CHAPTER 2
THE SOUTHERN KEEP, LA’TARI
Eight Years Earlier
“Yes, Shivaria, you must meet the new master of shadows and train with him. Don’t ask me again.”
Leanna has never been a patient woman and though I hadn’t actually repeated myself, I’m not surprised when she responds like I’ve drawled the question at her eight times. I hate my shadow lessons, almost as much as I love my sparring lessons with Bront.
The previous shadow master was a slip of a man with thin, oily, black hair and a face so pocked it somehow distracted from the intense crook of his nose, though that wasn’t why I hated him.
He had no business being the master of anything.
He was prideful, arrogant, and never willing to train me beyond what he considered adequate.
Years before, I made the mistake of besting him at a task in which he himself had trained me.
The man had no idea just how many hours I spent on my own perfecting the skill.
It was something I would later consider simple, but at the time, with a horde of onlookers and my palms sweating out the adrenaline shooting through my veins, it seemed monumental.
I sat on the ground before an intricately locked chest, the shadow master doing the same beside me.
My tools barely entered the lock before the lid sprung open with a loud pop.
It was a warm summer day, and a small crowd gathered to watch.
Even serious Bront had thrown a fist in the air and whooped for me while others clapped and some laughed.
It was the laughter that earned me the withering glare of my instructor.
For the remaining time I knew the man, he simply trained me to fail at everything.
He would gloat and mock my botched attempts, louder when anyone was present to hear.
Frustrated, I complained to Leanna. I’m not sure why.
I knew better by then to expect any help from her.
She only scoffed at my plight and told me that managing people was as much a part of being Fea Dien as mastering the shadows.
I would never be Drakai if I failed to pass my shadow training.
I started skipping meals, the only breaks in my heavily scheduled days, and spied on the shadow master as he taught the students he found worthy of his so-called skill.
I gleaned what little I could and practiced late into the night, all to barely keep up with Leanna’s exacting expectations.
I was glad for the break in my training when the shadow master was sent off on a simple, low-risk reconnaissance mission and never returned.
There seemed to be some debate as to what might have happened to him.
But I am sure he was found out by our enemies and killed, probably by a well-trained house cat.
This morning marks a month without shadow lessons.
And though I know I need them, nothing on Terr could excite me less than the new master of shadow’s unannounced arrival.
Leanna’s face holds its usual mixture of lovely and brooding storms as I follow her across the deadwood yard.
A cascade of long yellow hair tumbles down her back, and she’s wearing her pristine fighting leathers, the ones she usually reserves for special occasions.
I doubt anyone else will notice, but it’s a fact that certainly piques my interest.
Following Leanna’s gaze, I find a tall man leaning nonchalantly against an old, decaying oak, his arms folded across his chest, full lips tugging up at the corners as he eyes me expectantly.
I expected him to look older, though the hair that frames his strong jaw is pure white, a sure sign that he shares in the disgrace of my feyn heritage.
Physically, he is nothing like the previous master.
The man who stands before me is broad in the shoulders and, even below the loose, white tunic he wears, his muscles are well-defined.
His leather pants could be tighter. No, really, they can’t be, and I can see from the corner of my eye that Leanna is appreciating the sight.
I roll my eyes.
Stars above. I hope these two don’t find it necessary to complicate my life by falling into bed together.
A cheeky smile adorns his face, and he has an eyebrow quirked at me when I look back as if the man can read every petulant thought in my head. Schooling my features, I settle myself next to Leanna when she stops in front of him.
He breaks the quiet of the deadwood and says, “Thank you for coming to meet with me on such short notice.” I like his voice, it’s deep and soft, falling on my ears like a gentle breeze. My skin prickles at the sound and goosebumps rise on my arms, hidden beneath my dark fighting leathers.
“There is no need to thank me. I am happy to come whenever you choose to summon me,” Leanna says sweetly, suggestively.
Did she just say that? Gross.
It takes everything I have to keep my face placid and suppress the bile threatening to rise from my stomach.
I’m surprised when the smile falls from the man’s face, not cruelly or dismissively, it’s just gone.
Leanna stiffens beside me when she notices the same, then places a hand on the small of my back and pushes me forward.
“Shivaria, meet the new master of shadows, Vakesh.” All the sweetness is gone from her voice as she turns on her heel. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”
I chance a glance behind me as she makes her way back to the keep on pointedly wrathful strides. I don’t envy the man the ire he’s provoked in her.
“Come.” He issues the command as he turns toward the trees, and I follow him into the forest.
For twenty minutes we walk in silence. Well, he walks in silence.
The man doesn’t make a sound when he moves.
His feet glide beneath the leaves fallen to the early frost, and I try to mimic the movement as we pass beneath the sparse growth above.
He stops occasionally, listening and observing the forest surrounding us.
By the time we approach a small stream I have become determined to perfect the skill on my own, already having granted myself the title, the silent death.
A thick leather sack waits against the base of an ancient maple, and I watch quizzically as the master of shadows plops down beside the water, casts his boots aside, and lays his back on the ground, sinking his feet into the crisp water.
He sighs contentedly, eyeing me through a squinting wink.
Sunlight shimmers across his face, filtering through the canopy of bright yellows and deep reds as the leaves flit about on a light breeze.
“What would you like to learn today?” he asks, sounding almost bored.
If I’ve learned anything over the last twelve years training as Drakai, it’s that there is a correct answer to his question.
He is attempting to draw something out of me; I just need to figure out what it is.
Rolling my shoulders, I search my mind for the reply he seeks.
He takes me in curiously, the corners of his mouth tugging up ever so slightly.
My cheeks begin to heat under his gaze, and I loathe that he seems to be enjoying my discomfort.
“Well?”
“I would be happy to learn whatever it is the master of shadow would like to teach me,” I answer blandly.
“Hmm.” He sounds thoughtful. “That doesn’t really answer my question, does it?”
My brows pinch in, and I scold myself. Of course, it’s a trick question. I’ve already failed the first task he’s given me.
I ponder my possible answers, first considering picking something I am already well versed in to show him my skill, then quickly discard the idea.
No one likes a show-off. I consider picking a skill for which I’ve never been trained, though those are few and far between at this point in my life and I’d rather not make him immediately aware of my flaws.
“I’ve been told you are an exceptional student, and a quick study too.
I’m honestly a little surprised it’s taking you so long to answer such a simple question.
But, by all means, take as long as you’d like to consider it.
” He smiles and it almost seems genuine, but I know better than to believe it.
“Teach me to walk silently, like you,” I blurt out without thinking, but it’s a safe choice.
If he chooses to, I am sure he will be able to improve upon my technique, but I’m also confident enough in the newly acquired skill that I won’t risk utter shame and embarrassment attempting it under his scrutiny.
“Excellent!” He smiles, bounding to his feet. “Though after the progress you made this morning, I expected you to have nearly perfected it by the time we made it back to the keep.”
My face falls and I eye him suspiciously.
He scowls at the change, and uneasiness twists my stomach.
I hadn’t noticed his attention on me as we made our way through the forest. My cheeks begin to tingle as I consider just how aware he must be of every fault I made in my attempts to mimic his movements.
His mouth forms a thin line as he observes me, before quickly settling back into the relaxed smile he seems to favor. “Shall we begin?”
The master of shadows settles his stick on a flat piece of wood and spins it between his flattened palms, brows pinched with intense determination.
The sun has just begun to sink beyond the horizon, casting an ever-brightening display of orange and purple hues onto the thin layer of clouds buffeting the mountains to the east. In no time at all, his efforts produce a curling strand of smoke, rising from the small bundle of dry moss at the base of his stick.
It’s been six months since I was brought before the master of shadows.
Six months since he taught me to walk along the forest floor without making a sound.
Six months of teaching me anything I’ve asked to learn, without question or hesitation.
Months of his patient tutelage and kind smiles, things he never seems to be without.