Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Emperors & Gods
The light filtered through the sheer curtains like a blessing of grace after a deathly storm.
Grace was what Shadach felt watching the light pour over Aoife’s naked body as she slept, the curves and bends of her form gentle and exquisite in equal measure.
How, after all he’d been through, after all life had thrown at him, had he ended up here? In this single, perfect moment.
Aoife wanted him. He had nothing to offer her but trouble and still she had chosen him.
It was ironic, wasn’t it? The woman who shared so much of what he wanted to bring to the world, or bring back to it rather, was from a different world altogether.
Shadach strove to live by the remnants of his culture that had been lost. The love of art, of dreams, of striving for more than cut-throat criminality.
He had failed to find a match in the modern Halcin. In Selats. In Xana.
He had found it in Aoife.
Shadach wondered in the dim of morning if, perhaps, someday, he could tell her. If he could tell her his secrets. How he could see the lies as they were made. Perhaps, even, that he could read the Shadows themselves. Would she continue to choose him even then?
A pang of guilt settled in Shadach’s heart. She had given herself to him, body and soul. She had been brave enough to take that risk. He had not. But if he risked now, if he told her he could see her lies, would she take back everything she’d said? Would she decide she didn’t want him anymore?
As if summoned by his thoughts, a fat, loathsome Shadow slunk into the room from beneath the door, sniffing the ground, seemingly looking for more secrets to devour.
Shadach raised an eyebrow at the Shadow.
Its blobby form appeared to look at him even though it had no eyes or head to speak of.
With a hiss, it scuttled out of the room.
The Shadows and Shadach seemed to have mutual feelings for each other.
Aoife stirred, brushing her wild red hair out of her face. She blinked, her mind still in dreams even as her body tried to bring her back to the world she and Shadach shared. Together. Once her bleary eyes cleared, she looked at him. Smiled.
“Morning, handsome,” she said, her voice thick and sexy with morning.
“Morning, gorgeous.” He moved closer and kissed her.
Their bodies entwined, hands grasping, mouths desperate for more kisses.
Shadach entered her and she gasped into his neck, the tightness of her making him shiver from the pleasure.
She suited his body perfectly. Moving inside her, deep and slow at first, then hard and fast, Shadach made love to her until she was panting and quivering in his arms. Until his own orgasm rocketed through him.
Then came the Shadows, eager to destroy Shadach’s joy. They taunted him with their whispers, their laughter. Telling him he was too much of a coward to truly let Aoife in. Too afraid to give her the chance to destroy him.
Maybe she won’t betray you, he thought. A part of him believed it.
Another part of him laughed at his own naivety.
Yet another part of him told him he was a coward letting Aoife take all the risk.
She was putting her life at stake for him and he was giving her nothing in return.
Shadach wasn’t sure which terrified him more: the thought that Aoife might betray him or that his bravery might be paltry compared to hers.
“You asked me,” Shadach said as they lay in bed, realising the more terrifying option was the latter, “how I knew you were lying yesterday. I said you weren’t a good liar, which is true.” Shadach smiled and Aoife laughed. “But that’s not how I knew.”
Aoife studied him, serious, her chest against his, eyes gazing into him.
“Some Halcin are … gifted.” He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t.
“Gifted?” Her voice pitched up curiously.
“On the way to the Temple of Lust, I said there used to be people that could see Shadows being created.”
“The people from long ago,” Aoife said.
Shadach nodded then took a deep breath. “Those people were the Halcin.”
Aoife started to say something and then stopped. She started to say something again. Stopped. Finally, she said, “What?”
He laughed, the nerves making the sound choppy. “We used to all be able to see Shadows at their moment of creation, but now it’s only a rare few who can.”
“And you’re one of the few?” Aoife’s voice was ever so slightly on edge, but there was no anger in it. Only confusion.
Shadach’s heart thrashed in his ears. “Yes. When someone lies, I can see their Shadow peeling off them and escaping into the air. So I know who lies and when.”
Aoife said nothing. When Shadach finally dared to look, her face was a placid mask. She was watching him while also watching the Shadows hanging in the air. “That’s how you knew. In the tavern, when we fought, that’s why you kept insisting I’d lied. Because I’d made a Shadow.”
“Yes. A very loud one.”
“What do you mean ‘loud’?”
“Different types of lies create different types of Shadows. A blatant lie creates a Shadow that screeches when it emerges.”
“You’re kidding,” Aoife said. Stunned.
Shadach shook his head.
“That’s wild.” She laughed, the sound overly exuberant. As if she were nervous, too. Which made Shadach relax just a little. He wasn’t alone in his feelings. “And that’s why you believed me when I said I wasn’t from here?”
“Yes. I knew you weren’t lying. And it made so much else make sense.”
Aoife sat up slightly, seeming to replay their interactions through a new lens. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The exuberance had faded from her voice, but her tone was still gentle. “I’ve been running around making a fool of myself not knowing you knew every time I lied.”
“It’s not something I tell readily. There are people who would use my gift for their own ends. Or kill me so no one could have it.” Shadach tried to swallow down the bitterness, the pain. Judging from the look on Aoife’s face, it didn’t work.
She took his hand. “Then I’m grateful you trust me.”
“I did want to tell you sooner, I just …”
Aoife nodded in silent understanding. “I will keep your secret until my dying day. And even after.”
“This doesn’t … it doesn’t change things then? What you said last night?”
“Did me pretending to not like art and claiming the Gates were some bizarre game make you change your mind?”
Shadach laughed. “No.”
“Then my answer is the same.” Aoife hesitated. “It may take a little getting used to, though.”
Shadach squeezed her hand. “I would be worried if it didn’t.”
She stroked his hand with her thumb, looking at their hands rather than into his eyes. “Is that why Halcin have two-tone eyes? Do they let you see the Shadows?”
“In theory. Though even Halcin who don’t have the gift still have the eyes.”
Aoife looked at him then. “That must be hard seeing the lies. Most relationships are better for the occasional white lie.”
“I don’t believe that,” Shadach said. “Nothing good comes of a lie.”
Aoife gave a little smile. “You say that now, but what happens if you ask me if you look fat in something, and you do, so I lie to be nice, but then you know I’m lying?”
Shadach laughed. “I promise to never ask you if I look fat.”
“Good.” Aoife rested her head on his shoulder.
Shadach lay his cheek against her head. They sat in perfect quiet, in perfect contentment, as relief seeped into every vein, muscle, and drop of blood in Shadach’s body.
He had told her the truth and she had not run.
She intended to stay. To be true. And he believed her.
But then the moment ended, the outside world creeping its unforgiving fingers into their room. It was time for Aoife to go.
“Room and board aren’t cheap,” she said with a smile.
Aoife went to a small wash basin in the corner and dipped the thin rag sitting on the side into the water.
She wiped her arms, her chest, her body as best she could then pulled back her hair and slipped on her dress.
With a final kiss, she left. Shadach’s peace went with her.
As the silence overtook the room, Shadach felt a heaviness pressing into his chest. He got up and pulled on his trousers, but the heaviness only worsened.
He pressed his palm to his chest, trying to massage out the invisible knot, but nothing changed.
Staring out the window at the snow-soaked earth, Shadach watched his breath fog up the streaky glass.
What was he doing here?
Aoife was down there cleaning dishes, serving customers, working herself ragged to give them food and shelter, and what was he doing? Hiding?
Shadach let his forehead rest against the glass. Hiding. Yes. But what else was he supposed to do? What were the options? There were no options that didn’t leave them dead.
Oh really? No options at all? A shrill, patronising voice said in his mind.
Well yes, of course, there was the option of running away. Running as far as the ground, and perhaps the sea, could take them.
You’re to be a coward, then?
Shadach jerked his gaze over his shoulder as if to punch whoever had said that. No one was there. It wasn’t being a coward. It was being smart. Shadach had more than himself to think of. He had to keep Aoife safe.
She’s not safe until Aristen is dealt with.
Shadach pushed away from the window, pacing the room. Aristen would give up eventually, wouldn’t he? A snarky laugh echoed in Shadach’s head. Aristen was more stubborn than Shadach. Always had been.
“He’s a good choice,” a man said outside the room. Shadach heard two pairs of footsteps walking down the outside corridor.
“The God chose another pampered brat, that’s all I’m saying,” another voice said.
“Quiet,” the other man hissed. “That’s blasphemy.”
“What? You don’t think General Holt is going to be another spoiled emperor?”
Emperor.
The God chose.
Had Aristen orchestrated a new Choosing? Was he set to be the next Emperor?