A Slice of Shadow (The Lost Kings #5)

Chapter 1

Isla

No one will find out.

I won’t fall again.

I can do this.

I tell myself this over and over as I throw a blanket over my thin mattress. I really need to shake these wayward thoughts from my mind.

I love being a performer.

The conditions aren’t always ideal, but I feel closest to being me when I’m up there on my silks. Having to hide who I really am is taking its toll on me. My heart beats faster in my chest just thinking about what tomorrow will bring.

I need to get over it already. It is what it is.

I sit on my bed for a moment, taking in a deep breath.

My tent smells of mildew and old smoke, but it’s home.

At least I have a roof. It’s noisy outside; there’s battering, hammers pounding stakes, and the occasional curse.

The troupe is getting ready for our first performance at the Shadow Court.

We arrived a little earlier. As much as I love feeling the sun on my back, being in any of the courts makes my skin crawl. Particularly this one.

The shadowfae are dangerous. Their magic is dark, slippery, and wholly unpredictable… I should know. They seem to have eyes in the back of their heads and a nose for sniffing out magic. They’re always assessing, always looking for both weakness and power.

I have both, but no one can ever know.

I put a hand to my ear, feeling the rounded edge. They should have points. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m not a pure-blooded human. I’m a half-breed, and unlike many others of my kind, I’m one of the few who can wield magic, and I do…all the time.

Problem is, it could get me into real trouble if anyone ever found out.

I use it to enhance my performance, to make the almost impossible look effortless. Just enough to keep me valuable to the troupe. More than enough to get me jailed or killed if anyone ever found out.

I press a hand to my stomach, trying to quell the nausea rolling there. If the fae discover what I can do, I’ll be forced to stay at their court. They’ll drain me week after week like every other magical creature in the realm. Drained until I’m a useless husk.

No. I can’t let that happen, and I won’t.

If I were clever, I would never use magic again. I would bury it in the deepest recesses of my soul and never touch it. But I need it to make a living, and I love what I do. If only it didn’t come with so many risks attached.

My stomach growls, and it reminds me that I haven’t eaten since this morning. The exhaustion from the journey is making me lightheaded. The communal cook fires should be going by now.

I push through the tent flap.

Outside, as expected, the camp is a hive of activity.

To my left, a group of strongmen is wrestling to erect the main center pole in the performance tent, their muscles bulging.

The canvas billows and snaps in the wind.

One of them, Garrick, catches my eye and nods.

I nod back. Friendly but not overly so. That’s the balance I’ve learned to strike over the past two summers with the troupe.

Don’t get too close. Don’t let anyone in, or they might find out about my secret.

I follow the smell of cooking meat as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

It will be dark soon, and the stars will come out.

How I long to see them shining in all of their glory.

The endless weeks of travel between courts take a toll on even the most hardened traveler.

Out there, the sky goes from muted gray to a muted black, with no sign of the sun, moon, or stars.

It’s all just rain, cold, mud, and stench for weeks at a time.

I still prefer it to the fear that churns in my belly every time I’m at a court.

As I round one of the supply wagons, I nearly collide with Lyre. She’s carrying a bucket of water, and her dark hair is pulled back in a tight braid. Her horses whinny softly behind her from the makeshift corral.

“Hi, Isla.” She grins at me, her whole face lighting up. “Have you finished setting up?”

“Yes.” I manage a small smile. “Your beauties look well.” I glance over her shoulder.

“They’re thrilled to be here.” She looks back at her horses, her expression softening. “The grazing is wonderful, but they’re restless for some reason.” As if on cue, one of her ponies lifts his head, his nostrils flaring. Then he whinnies and bolts to the other side of the corral.

“See what I mean? They’re twitchy.” She giggles. “I hope they settle by tomorrow’s show.”

I know exactly how her ponies feel, but I don’t say so. Instead, I just nod. “I’m going to get some supper. Do you want to join me?”

“Wish I could, but I need to finish up here first.” She hefts the bucket.

“Do you need help?”

“I’ll manage. Save me a seat, will you?”

“Of course.”

I continue, weaving between tents and wagons. To my right, three acrobats are practicing handstands. Sera waves at me from upside down, her face flushed from the exertion. I wave back.

Near the edge of camp, I spot old Marcus sitting cross-legged, mending one of his juggling clubs. His fingers work the needle. He’s been with the troupe for years and years. I think he’s been here the longest, even longer than Master Roland himself.

As I get closer to the cook fires, I notice the fae hovering at the edges of our camp, watching us. A small group stands near one of the wagons.

One of them, a female with pretty features, steps forward as I pass.

“You,” she says, her voice cutting through the noise. “Human.” Her eyes are a beautiful green. Her hair is long and flowing about her shoulders, her ears pointing through the golden strands.

My heart lurches. I stop, turning to face her with what I hope is a respectful expression. “Yes, my lady?”

She looks me up and down, her gaze lingering on my hands, my face, my worn clothing. “I take it that you’re one of the performers?”

“I am.” I keep my voice steady, even though my pulse is racing.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a singer.”

Her lips curve into something that might be a smile but doesn’t reach her eyes. “Sounds…boring.”

“There’s more to my show than just singing.”

“Oh? Do tell.” She cocks her head.

“You’ll have to come to the performance to find out,” I tell her, trying hard to maintain my smile.

“Maybe I will. I have heard that you are all very good,” she tells me.

One of the male fae is leering at me. I suddenly wish I had worn my coat. Like most of the troupe, I am wearing hose and a simple tunic with riding boots. It’s practical travel attire. Only, here at the fae court, women tend to wear dresses.

“Thank you, my lady.” I incline my head, careful to show deference. “I hope to see you on one of the days,” I lie.

The fewer fae in attendance, the better, as far as I’m concerned.

She waves a hand, and I take it as permission to leave. I turn and walk away, forcing myself not to hurry or to show the fear bubbling up inside me. My hands are clammy, and my heart won’t stop racing. It’s silly. I need to stop this.

They can’t tell that I can wield magic just by looking at me.

I may have fallen at the Ice Court, but that wasn’t my fault. I can’t help it that my magic doesn’t work very well in such cold conditions. I was so sure I could perform unassisted, and I was wrong.

My arm pained me for weeks after. So much so, I was too careful at the last show. Master Roland wasn’t very happy with me. But who can blame me?

Three strikes and you’re out. If I don’t do well at this court, I will be booted from the troupe. Master Roland doesn’t keep slackers.

This show will be perfect. I know it will. I’m very good at my guise. Besides, I’ve been practicing day and night for a whole moon-cycle.

I’m so focused on putting distance between myself and the shadowfae that I don’t see the tent master until I nearly walk straight into him.

Speak of the devil, and he will appear.

“Whoa there!” His hands come up to steady me, and I stumble back, looking up into his face.

I don’t need this right now. I don’t think my nerves will take it.

“Master Roland.” I step back some more. “Apologies. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No harm done.” He smiles broadly, but his eyes are narrowed as they take me in. He’s a hard man. Fair, but hard. He has to be. We survive rather than thrive. It wouldn’t take much to tip the balance. We all have to pull our weight at all times. “Are you on your way to get your meal for the day?”

I nod. “Yes, Master.” I clasp my hands in front of me.

He studies me for a moment more, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “Good, good.” He nods slowly. “And are you ready for tomorrow’s performance?” He tilts his head.

My throat tightens. “I am. I’m very much looking forward to it.”

I’m such a liar. I hate that I have to lie to survive, but what else can I do?

His eyes narrow, and I wonder if he can read the anxiety written all over my face. “I’ve been hearing things, Isla. Good things, indeed, and all about the new routine you’ve been working on.”

“Oh.” I nod a few times. “That is good to know, Master.”

“I’m expecting great things from you.” He leans in, his voice dropping.

“You’ve been with us for two summers now.

You know how important these performances are, especially at the courts.

We need to impress. We need to be…memorable…

valued, so that we will be welcomed back with open arms. This is where the coin is.

This is where we need to be…where we need to shine. ”

There’s an edge to his words. A warning.

“I understand.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “You won’t be disappointed.”

He searches my face for another long moment, then nods. “See that I’m not.” He pats my shoulder once, almost fatherly. “I like you, Isla.”

Kakara help me, but it’s another one of his damned veiled warnings.

“I’ll do my best, Master.”

“I know you will.” He steps aside, gesturing toward the cook fires. “Don’t let me keep you from your meal. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”