Chapter 19 #2
"Well that's not ideal." I put a hand on the shadows and they warm slightly under my touch. "How much do they know?"
"Everything. Your healing, your location, your..." He glances at Ruvan. "Affiliations."
"You mean that I'm living with the Shadow Guild and teaching them about vegetables?" The shadows are vibrating now. "Yes, I can see how that might upset people who think magic should stay in its proper boxes."
"They're planning something called a Cleansing."
The shadows explode outward, forming a complete barrier between me and everyone else. Can't see through them, just darkness. My breath comes out in little puffs.
"I can't see through you. Move please, this is important." They don't move. If anything, they get thicker. One pats my head. "Thank you but I need to see what's happening."
"They consider you corrupted," Arthur continues, his voice muffled. Someone drops their fork. "Light magic tainted by shadow influence. They want to purify you."
"That sounds unpleasant." I'm still trying to see through my protective shadow barrier. One creates a tiny window at eye level. "Thank you. What does purification involve exactly?"
"Death. Usually. Eventually. After they try to burn the corruption out."
The shadows are making sounds now. Low rumbling like distant thunder. One wraps around my wrist.
"Right. Well." I push at the shadows until they reluctantly part enough for me to see everyone frozen mid-bite.
"Sit up straight, Finn, you'll get indigestion slouching like that.
And you—" I point at the nervous Tide Runner, "you haven't touched your vegetables.
You need vitamins. When's the last time you had actual vegetables? "
He stares at me, then slowly takes a bite of carrots. They crunch loudly.
"How did you survive?" The question comes out smaller than intended. "That night. You were supposed to be dead."
"I was already involved with the Tide Runners." He's not eating, just pushing food around. Still with the wrong fork. "Through my water magic. The attack—it was targeting me too. As an unregistered magic user. When I realized they were coming for both of us, I had to choose."
"So you chose to let me think you were dead."
"I chose to keep you safe."
"By letting me think I killed you." The shadows are practically vibrating now. "By letting me carry that for six years."
"It was the only way—"
"I lit candles for you." My voice cracks completely.
Someone shifts uncomfortably. "Every week.
Talked to your grave about my terrible paintings and Mrs. Harwicke's nose and how I couldn't afford proper brushes.
Remember when you said I should just paint everyone's nose the same? Said nobody would notice?"
"Livvy—"
"It wasn't even your grave!" The shadows spike again, one knocking the butter dish off the table. "I was talking to empty dirt!"
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He looks exhausted suddenly, older than twenty-four. "But they would have killed you. The Radiant Court, the Registration Bureau, someone. Your light magic, unregistered, that powerful? You were a target from the moment it manifested."
"So you just decided to be dead? Without asking? Without letting me choose?"
"You were twenty-one. You painted flowers and worried about people's feelings. You once cried because you stepped on a snail." His voice goes soft. "How could I let you choose between your life and mine?"
The shadows soften slightly. Traitors. One pats my shoulder.
"Your boots still have holes," I say, because emotions are hard and footwear is practical.
"That's not important right now."
"It's winter. Frozen feet affect combat efficiency.
And you get chilblains. Remember when you got chilblains that one winter?
Your feet swelled up and Mother made you soak them in warm water?
You complained the entire time but you did it anyway because she made you hot chocolate after—" I stop. Can't talk about Mother. Not now.
He almost smiles. "Still worried about everyone's wellbeing."
"Someone has to." I look around the table. Everyone's eating mechanically now. "Gray Streak, you're holding your knife wrong. It's going to cramp your hand."
He adjusts his grip, looking bewildered.
"I have to go," Arthur says eventually. "Being here too long breaks my cover."
"Your cover as my dead brother?"
"My cover as someone who doesn't care what happens to you." He stands, and my shadows immediately form a barrier again. "May I hug my sister?"
The shadows consider this. I pat them encouragingly. "Let me hug my stupid, lying, not-dead brother. But watch him. He might steal the silver."
"We don't have silver," Finn points out, his voice slightly muffled by food.
"He might steal the stainless steel then."
The shadows part reluctantly, staying close enough to intervene. One hovers right behind Arthur's head.
Arthur's hug feels exactly the same—protective, slightly too tight. He still smells like soap and something minty.
"I'll send word when I know more," he whispers. "Be careful. The Luminary himself is interested."
"The Luminary sounds pretentious."
"He's worse than pretentious. He's a true believer." He pulls back, glances at Ruvan. "Keep her safe."
"She's remarkably bad at being kept safe," Ruvan says. First words he's spoken since ordering everyone inside.
"She always was." Arthur looks at me one more time. "Remember when you tried to save that stray dog? It bit you and you still kept trying?"
"He was scared. Scared things bite." The exhaustion's hitting properly now. "Your boots still have holes."
"I know, Livvy. I know."
Then he's leaving with his Tide Runners, and I'm standing in my doorway watching my dead brother walk away again. My legs feel weak. The shadows wrap around me, warm and solid, practically holding me up.
"He's really alive," I say to no one in particular.
"And working with people who tried to kill us yesterday," Ruvan points out, because he's helpful like that.
"And now a religious death cult wants to purify me." I look at the dining room with its abandoned plates. The nervous Tide Runner did eat his vegetables though. Small victories. "Who's on washing duty?"
"You're worried about dishes?" Ruvan's studying my face.
"Someone has to wash them. We can't leave them overnight. The kitchen will smell. And we'll get ants. Do you want ants? Because that's how you get ants and then we need ant traps and those never really work and—"
The shadows catch the first plate I drop. They gather the rest, though they keep mixing up the sorting.
"Your brother let you think he was dead for six years," Ruvan says, following me with plates the shadows handed him.
"Yes, well, he's always been dramatic." I start filling the sink with hot water. "Probably where I get it from."
"You're not dramatic."
"I just forced mortal enemies to have dinner together because my dead brother showed up alive." The water's too hot but the shadows adjust it before I can burn myself. "That's at least moderately dramatic."
"That's practical. Harder to kill people after you've shared potatoes."
The shadows swirl warm around us both. One's trying to dry dishes but keeps dropping them.
"A death cult wants to burn the corruption out of me," I say conversationally, scrubbing a particularly stubborn bit of chicken. "Do you think they provide their own fuel or expect us to supply it?"
"They'll have to get through me first."
"That's very sweet, but you're not invincible. You get those headaches, remember? Behind your eyes? Have you been taking the willow bark tea I made?"
"This isn't about tea—"
"Everything's a little bit about tea." I hand him another plate carefully. The shadows catch it, pass it to him. "Maybe let Ruvan handle the plates, shadow friends."
We wash dishes in comfortable silence while shadows try to help and mostly just move things to wrong places. My legs wobble and I have to lean against the counter.
"Your brother has terrible boots," Ruvan observes, steadying me with a hand on my elbow.
"The worst boots. Someone should do something about that."
"Not us."
"Obviously not us. We're busy with dishes." I hand him the last plate with both hands. "And death cults. And teaching shadows about silverware organization."
"The important things."
The shadows wrap around us both, warm and protective, while outside my not-dead brother walks back to his guild that tried to kill us yesterday. Everything's different and exactly the same, which is how these things go.
Tomorrow I'll process the emotional trauma properly. Tonight, I have clean dishes and matching plates and my body won't stop shaking even though the danger's passed.
The nervous Tide Runner ate his vegetables though.
That's something.