Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
Countdown
The city was a formidable beast. Aoife felt the weight of pending defeat as she sat inside its walls, her horse dancing beneath her and desperately wanting to go … where? Somewhere. Anywhere.
Perhaps he wanted to run as badly as her.
Aoife swallowed the dry knot of fear in her throat and smiled at Shadach.
He smiled back before his penetrating eyes surveyed the streets, calculating their next move.
At least, she hoped that’s what he was doing.
For all Aoife had meant her speech about succeeding together, that had been before the fear had settled.
Before she’d felt the weight of this city.
Before she’d processed just how in over her head she was.
Being in over her head wasn’t new. Aoife had been that way ever since she’d come to the Kingdom of Shadows.
She’d been that way during every computer science exam and programming assignment in college.
But this was different. Maybe it was the subject matter.
For computer science, she could study, read books, learn more.
When it had come to running from Aristen …
well, survival was pure instinct. She’d known how to do it without needing to learn.
But this. Stealing. Thievery. Endearing herself to a people that clearly hated her.
There were no books, no instinct for how to succeed.
She was useless.
“Aoife?”
Aoife’s hands jerked against the reins at Shadach calling her name, her horse dancing at the sudden pull on its mouth. “Sorry?”
“I know where we can stay. You may not like it though.”
“Is it with you?”
“Of course.”
Aoife’s hands relaxed against the reins. “Then it’s perfect.”
Everglade City was a three-day journey from the Western Lands, which meant they once again had to relocate.
At least for the duration of the trial. Aoife checked her wrist as if she had a watch.
As if there were a number on her arm taunting her with the days, the hours, the minutes they had left to steal these jewels or be sentenced to a proverbial, if not literal, death.
Their deadline on the third day would be midnight, signalled by a particularly large trio of bloody stars sitting dead centre in the sky.
Because it was morning now, those stars were faint, sitting on the horizon line and allowing the sun to have its glory for the moment.
They would rise and become more prominent throughout the evening as they counted the nighttime hours.
Aoife had suggested they try to fudge the truth a little, maybe say they arrived later than they actually had. After all, who would know exactly how long they had been in Everglade? According to Shadach, the Halcin would. They had eyes and ears everywhere.
The countdown had already begun.
Side-by-side, they rode into the parts of the city Aoife quickly recognised as the slums. Not quite as desperate as the one in the Emperor’s City, but a place of impoverished despair nonetheless.
She followed Shadach past homes made of cloth and mud, past beggars and children threatening each other with knives for food.
Then, as if passing through a portal, the houses grew nicer while the people grew more merciless. Their eyes were the same as Shadach’s.
“This is a Halcin enclave,” Shadach said, his voice a whisper. “A home away from home for us. In fact,” Shadach hesitated, “I spent many of my younger years here.” There was a long pause as if he were going to say more. He never did.
“The Halcin in this enclave will let us stay with them?” Aoife said after a formidable silence. Judging from their reception in the Western Lands, that seemed unlikely.
Shadach flashed a crude smile. “They’ll enjoy watching us fail. So, yes. They’ll let us stay.”
No sooner had Shadach spoken than that sea of ice and shadow eyes turned on them. Lips, mocking. Laughter, cruel. Schadenfreude was the word that came to Aoife’s mind: pleasure in someone else’s misfortune.
Shadach said something to one of the men in Halcin. The man gave a gleeful reply, pointing down the road.
“The enclave leader’s house is this way,” Shadach said, nudging his horse forward as Aoife did the same. “He’s the one who says where we shelter.”
Aoife kept her eyes focused on the path ahead, desperately trying to ignore the stares, the laughs, the lewd gestures from the Halcin that were coming out of their houses to see the spectacle.
The enclave leader’s house was, naturally, the biggest. A two-story brick dwelling that looked every kind of resistant that was important. Fire-resistant due to the brick, break-in resistant due to the thick metal door, and envy-resistant due to its complete lack of character.
In front of the house, Shadach dismounted and Aoife followed suit. She held back as he knocked on the door, wondering if she should wait outside like she had when Shadach had first met with his family.
The door opened with a creak and a shudder.
A man about Shadach’s age stood in the doorway, a scar on his jaw, a streak of white in his blond hair.
A Selat? No. He had eyes of shadow and ice.
Aoife flicked a glance at Shadach to see if he would react, if he would think this strange.
Aoife had never seen a blond Halcin before.
But Shadach didn’t blink, didn’t flinch.
Instead, he smiled and said something in Halcin.
The blond Halcin casually leaned against the door frame, hands in his pockets, looking Shadach over as if sizing up a long-lost nemesis.
Finally, the blond Halcin gave a wry smile. He spoke in Halcin, at one point nodding at Aoife. Shadach said something back. She really needed to learn this language.
“You’re a Selat, then?”
Aoife jumped, slight enough that she hoped it wasn’t noticeable when the blond Halcin suddenly switched to a language she understood.
“Y-yes,” she said. The lie was easier than trying to explain the truth.
“Right.” The man laughed, the sound powerful and shrewd. “And I’m the Emperor.” Stepping back from the door, the blond Halcin motioned for them to come inside.
“What did that mean?”Aoife whispered, following Shadach’s lead and removing her shoes before stepping into the house.
“It—”
“It means,” the blond Halcin said, “I can see when Shadows are spun.”
Aoife glanced at Shadach. Was such a power not a secret?
“Hallus has chosen to be open about his gift,” Shadach said, instantly registering the question in Aoife’s eyes.
The blond Halcin, Hallus, gave a bitter laugh. “That’s a loose definition of ‘chose’.”
Aoife waited for him to explain, to say more. That moment never came. Instead, he motioned to his home, the inside an odd mix of sparsity and absurd displays of wealth: minimalist, wooden chairs and tables paired with gaudy gold candlesticks and jewel-laden bric-à-brac.
“What’s mine is yours,” Hallus said. In Selatian. Unlike the other Halcin, he didn’t seem to take issue with using a language Aoife understood. “Your room is upstairs, first door on the left. Food is in the kitchen.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Shadach said with a note of suspicion.
Hallus gave a cynical smile. “Knowing you’re about to crash and burn is bringing out my giving side.”
“He won’t crash and burn,” Aoife said.
“Sure,” Hallus answered. “And the white streak in my hair will be dark when I wake in the morning.” Saying something to Shadach in Halcin, Hallus went into a back room, apparently not to be disturbed.
“That went better than in the Western Lands,” Aoife said as she followed Shadach up the stairs.
“Don’t be fooled,” Shadach took Aoife’s hand, “Hallus is one of the most ruthless Halcin on record.”
“Do you know that personally or by reputation?” The way they’d spoken to each other had been familiar, but tense. Even if Aoife hadn’t understood the spoken language, she had understood the body language.
“We knew each other as children,” Shadach said as he led Aoife onto the top landing.
The upstairs was a plain, lifeless series of rooms with all the doors closed.
There were no framed pictures, no bits of colour, nothing to make this place feel like home.
Shadach opened the first door on the left and it was every bit as horrible as Aoife had predicted.
Plain grey blankets. Brick walls with no blemishes.
A bed frame that looked like ancient IKEA furniture.
“I take it you didn’t like each other?”Aoife looked away from the bed, trying not to cry over the prison-grey pillowcases she’d have to put her head on tonight.
“No … but that was mostly my fault.” Shadach seemed to fight the instinct to flinch.
“Hallus’ mother is a Selat, his father a Halcin.
If he’d been born without the Halcin eyes, he could have passed for a Selat.
If he’d been born without the Selat streak, he could have passed for a Halcin.
He got the worst of both worlds and nobody wanted him. ”
“That’s so sad.” Aoife sat on the stiff desk chair in the corner.
“He had to go somewhere and he ended up with the Halcin by default. No Selat community was going to take him. But the Halcin didn’t want him either … and made sure he knew it.”
“Even you?”