Page 35 of Ties of Shadow

The Shade stubbed his toe on the step and hobbled to the next one. Shadows surrounded us until he reached to grab the broken pot shard before him. “Missed a piece. Tripped on it.”

I squinted at him as he turned quickly and walked a little too stiffly. I glanced down at the mother skunk who had meandered under the tables.

“Did you hear anything?”I asked in my mind, opening a mental window in the box as I did.

She scratched at her nose. “No, as I told him, I didn’t hear a thing. Only from my children.”One bumbled out from under a racerbristle as she spoke. “I’ll go gather them up.”And she trotted away.

By the time I arrived at the top of the steps, the Shade was standing before a table that was set up near the racerbristles with shears in hand. “Begin. I’m curious how this compares to the potion recipes I’ve dabbled with in the last few years.”

Oh, great, extra pressure. I hesitantly grabbed my own shears and tapped the handle on my palm. “Well, I’ll need three leaves, one stem, and a twist of root from the racerbristles for every bottle.” The Shade remained silent. “Twenty leaves of white thieves, three stamenfrom the auralius flower, two drops from adimantus mushrooms, and one cup of spring water.”

“Anything else?”

“Fourteen bluebuds, five leaves of weatherwillow, and one thorn from the ice rose.”

His eyebrow rose farther.

“And the root of the rototuber.” I cleared my throat. “That’s all.”

His chuckle filled the space as his shadows danced.

“And…” Ice filled my veins.

He raised a wry eyebrow as if sensing my mood. “Yes, Dayspring?”

“I may have already started collecting some pieces.”

With hot cheeks, I stepped over to the box of dried goods and crushed racerbristle ingredients I had collected that first morning before the spyrings attacked and set them on the table in front of me. I wished the space between us was bigger to hide me from his rage. Instead, I looked up and found amusement glinting in his eyes.

“We are going to need more hands.” His shadow swept past me and down the stairs. Within minutes, the cries of able-bodied creatures echoed against the glass. The Shade’s shadow pulled a much larger pot up the stairs, and others brought large mixing bowls and enormous spoons. “Shall we?”

I stepped to his side, his very presence thickening the air that pressed against my skin and filled my lungs. His shadows idly swirled at my ankles, causing my gown to shift like gentle eddies of a cool river. My skin prickled where I felt his gaze. Twenty animals sat or stood, their attention solely on me.

Snipping a stem off the bush beside me, I set it into the bowl with a hesitant smile. “We shall.”

The animals burst into action. At first, the chaos of directing, collecting, and mashing the ingredients was almost overwhelming. Butthe racoons, ravens, skunks, squirrels, and crows were easily directed and brought the ingredients to me with a mere thought and brief image of my mind. The Shade filled in where my thoughts struggled, and soon, piles of the raw ingredients filled the tables around us.

The Shade rolled up his sleeves to reveal wholly ordinary and plain forearms that were definitely not corded with delicious muscles and that I was absolutely not watching as he worked. I was never distracted by his grin at the creatures’ antics, or his patient gaze as he awaited my instruction. The day drifted by, my back ached, and my hands cramped, but we pressed on.

Around midday, Uncle Koll stopped by with a tray of food and tea that he placed on a nearby shelf. His eyes glittered as he took in the sight, then he returned to the kitchen. Sweat beaded on my temple, and a shadow swept past me to open the window. Below the table, shadows beat like waves, fanning the space. At least Death was a useful sort.

Finally, twenty potions sat before us. The right pink hue. The right viscosity. The right odor. I beamed at the Shade. “These are by far the healthiest ingredients I have used in quite a while. Years maybe. Even the plants I’ve found recently were all incredibly dry.”

“I’ve made the loamer potion before, but I never added the auralius stamen.” He tilted his head in concession. “It’s an excellent addition.”

“The shelf life doubles with it. Father discovered it quite on accident. But it means the potion containers can be larger, and the doses will remain viable for much longer, so we can space out how often we make them.” I bounced on my toes. “All of this can make a real difference!” I thought of the queen and how much this might help her, and with a happy squeal, I rushed forward, wrapping my arms around the Shade’s waist.

Both of us froze. I coughed and moved to step back, but his arms swept around me and pulled me into his embrace as the shadows swept circles around us. The Shade smelled like forests and moss and dew on the meadow at dawn. My cheek buried deeper into his chest against my wishes. And then there were tears in my eyes. Wretched, wild tears that had no business being there. One fell on his sleeve.

“Oh, Dayspring.” His chest vibrated against my cheek. “Your face is leaking.”

I turned my nose into him. Muffled, I protested, “Is not.”

His thumb caressed gentle circles against my shoulder. “Butwhy, Dayspring. Why the tears? Aren’t you happy?”

I was. I was happy that I could help the queen and have someone else’s help—even if it was the Shade. But how would I confess that to my kingdom’s greatest enemy?

“It’s been a long time since I had a hug,” I said instead, my cheeks flushing at the admission. “Chef sometimes hugs me, I guess, but not often, and not without leaving a cup of flour on me after.”

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