Chapter Thirty
Thirty
Lying With Truth
“How did you do it?”
Shadach watched Mother watch him as they sat at the table, her eyes a curious mix of suspicion and wonder.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. His siblings were out and it seemed even the neighbours had deigned to be silent.
Not to mention the Shadows. They were cowering in corners and cabinets. Scared to come out.
“Does it matter?” Shadach said. “You told me to get the jewels and I have the jewels.”
Mother sat back, her hands gripping the arms of the chair, her face a mask of stone. “The jewels that the Halcin have been trying, and failing, to get for over a century. You get them in a few days.”
“Is that an accusation or a compliment?”
“I’m not sure.”
Silence.
“How did you do it?” she said.
“Does it matter?” he said.
No answer.
“Are you afraid I sold my soul to get them?” Shadach tried to relax into his chair even though every muscle in him was tense.
“Perhaps your soul,” Mother’s words were slow, drawn out, “or perhaps ours.”
“I did neither.” He settled deeper into the stiff, wooden chair. “Maybe in an ironic twist, I’m just more Halcin than the lot of you.”
Shadach expected Mother to laugh. To balk at his words. Instead, she watched him, sure and steady, her mouth a thin line. The minutes passed. One. Two. Three. Four. And then—
“There are stories,” she said, her eyes never once leaving Shadach. “Old stories, from when we were artists. Lawyers. Judges. Do you know them?”
“Depends which ones you’re talking about,” Shadach answered carefully.
“The ones that said we Halcin used to have eyes that could see more than the creation of Shadows.”
“What about them?” Shadach looked away then forced himself to look at Mother. She would note his hesitation, his diverted glances.
“They’re interesting, don’t you think?”
“As interesting as any fairytale,” he said.
“Fairytale,” she said. “Of course.”
More silence. Shadach’s mind spun with questions.
Did Mother know? She at least suspected.
But how? Why? Had he slipped up? Done something to make his gift known?
Shadach wanted to ask, but if he dared, he would be all but admitting the truth.
And this truth could not be exposed. Not yet.
Not ever. When he looked into Mother’s eyes, he saw she understood this too, as the memory of his father flashed through her mind just as it flashed through his.
This type of power was dangerous. Too dangerous to be spoken aloud.
“You really plan to do this? To become Emperor?” Now, Mother looked at the table. Her eyes were still hard, but her lips had softened.
“It’s what the God has decreed.”
“Screw the God.” Mother’s gaze snapped to meet his. “You belong here. Not out there in that miserable world. Do you know nothing?”
Shadach’s fight-or-flight instinct catapulted him towards “fight” at those words.
Those words. The ones she had said to him all those years ago.
Do you know nothing? Mother had told him he would regret his decision to leave.
That he would be dead to his people. That the world would eat him alive.
The cruelty of her tone, the ferociousness of her eyes, it came back to him in a devastating wave of memory.
Shadach’s chest went tight, his heart thundering in his ears as his body remembered his own fury at a mother who could not understand why changing his fate meant so much.
You’ll never understand, he had said. You might be happy to be a prisoner here, but I’m not. Go ahead. Rot here if you want.
I will. And you can die in your Selat grave, she had answered.
But now, over ten years later, the world was different. Shadach was different. He had seen and he had lived and he saw in her eyes what he had been too naive to see back then. The realisation hit Shadach like a punch to the stomach, the tension and anger in his body smashing out of him.
“What happened to Father,” Shadach’s voice was gentle, “is not going to happen to me. Just because I’m leaving the compound doesn’t mean I’ll end the same way.”
Mother went as stiff as a sword. It might have been his imagination, but Shadach thought he saw a glint of water in her eyes. “I never said it would.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You’re being foolish.”
“I know, but it’s worth the risk.”
“Not to me.” The words came out fast and harsh, and Mother’s violent intake of breath after she’d said them told Shadach she hadn’t meant to. Not aloud. She looked away as if that would stop him from seeing how much she cared. How scared she really was.
The God forbid Mother be seen as weak.
“When I’m Emperor,” he said, “and you’re surrounded by your jewels and your servants, you’ll change your mind.”
A thin smile creased her lips. “So you have learned a thing or two about diplomacy in your old age.”
“I learned from the best.”
“Flattery won’t help you.”
Shadach grinned. “Yes, it will.”
They sat in the quiet for a moment. This time it was comfortable. Unhurried. But all peaceful things had to come to an end and Shadach had quite a lot of unpeaceful things to attend to.
“I better get back to the war room.” That’s what they were calling the strategy sessions for getting him past Aristen’s men and into the Emperor’s City.
Mother nodded, standing as he stood. “Taking Kesra is a smart choice.”
“Because she’s excellent at what she does. Nothing more.”
“I didn’t meant to imply there was something more.”
“Yes, you did.”
Mother’s smile was shrewd. “Maybe I did.”
“I love Aoife, Mother. I never would have gotten the jewels without her.”
Mother shrugged, for once deciding to keep her opinion to herself. Shadach stepped to the door.
“Promise me,” she said. “Promise me you won’t end up like him.”
Shadach turned back to her. “I promise,” he answered.
Please let that be the truth, he prayed.
~*~
“When do we leave?” Aoife lay in bed beside him, her luscious red hair falling across the pillow case. Now that Shadach was considered Halcin again, they had been allowed to stay in Mother’s house.
“In another day or two.” Shadach pulled her closer, her head resting on his chest. “We’re still working out the finer details. Well,” he gave a humourless laugh, “we’re still working out any details.”
“You don’t have a plan?” Worry shot through her words.
He stroked her hair, wishing this could all be over. Wishing he could take away her fear for good. “We will. But because Aristen has to let Halcin shipments through unimpeded, he knows more about us and our methods than we’d like to admit.”
“You’ll find a way,” Aoife said. But her voice sounded distant. Why so far away all of a sudden?
“Hallus said he’s going with you,” she said.
“Yes,” Shadach answered slowly.
“And a girl named Kesra.” Aoife suddenly did not sound far away at all.
Shadach sighed to himself, annoyed with Hallus when he wasn’t even here. “He told you Kesra and I used to be together.”
Aoife sat up, looking him in the eyes. “It’s true then.”
“I was seventeen,” Shadach laughed. Aoife didn’t. “Aoife.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked at him beneath those thick eyelashes, chewing on her lip. He wanted to kiss her silly until she forgot every worry in her. “You have no reason to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” Aoife said. Shadach watched a tiny Shadow leech off her shoulders. Though Shadach would have known she was lying even without his gift.
“Fine,” she said, “maybe a little jealous. But can you blame me? The woman looks like a goddess.”
“She looks like a merciless bitch. Which is what she is and why we need her help, but she is nothing like you. And could never compare to you.” Shadach kissed her.
He would show her in the best way he knew how that she had nothing to fear from Kesra.
She was ancient history and Shadach had never stopped being thankful she was exactly that.
Shadach hesitated. The kiss. It was … off.
Aoife wasn’t kissing him back with her usual excitement.
Her usual passion. He pulled back, looking at her pained eyes.
It hurt him deeply that there might be something in her that his kiss couldn’t fix.
He pulled her closer, peppering her chin and cheeks with kisses before he said, “What’s the matter, my love? I know something is wrong.”
Her gaze turned serious. Uncertain. For a brief moment, he thought she would lie. He braced himself, stomach twisting.
“I’m just … worried,” she said, eyes downcast, “about the future.”
No Shadows. No lies. Yet Shadach’s stomach didn’t relax. “That’s not surprising, given our situation,” he said, cautiously.
Aoife took a deep breath. “Yes, but I mean after. After Aristen. Nobody thinks we’re a good idea. And I … feel like you’re hiding something from me about the heist. About how it happened. And maybe that’s because you think everyone else is right, too.”
“No,” he said instantly. “I don’t.” That was absurd. How he wished she could see the creation of Shadows, so she could know his words were true.
She looked at him then, her eyes speaking louder than words ever could: then why the secrets?
A voice in Shadach’s head, said, Tell her. His voice or the God’s, Shadach couldn’t decipher. But then came another voice, his own voice for certain, promising his mother he would not end up like his father. Promising himself that he would save his people.
“There are some things better left secret,” he said. “For now.” He pulled her closer. “Please trust me.”
“I do,” she said without hesitating. Without creating a Shadow. “Of course I do, but …”
“Do you think you’d make a good empress?” Shadach took her hands in his. “Do you think we should be together?”
She glanced up at him, a mix of hopeful and terrible emotions in her eyes. “I think I could learn to be a good empress if it meant being with you. And of course I think we should be together.”
“So do I,” he said, kissing her hands. “That’s all that matters.”
He smiled at her and she smiled back, but the gesture did not reach her eyes.
~*~