In Her Shadow(8)

"If that's what you think," said the Abbess of Night. The strange phrasing wasn't lost on Britta, and she doubted it was lost on the Governor either. He had no power to get Britta home safely. She wore the black cloak. She could walk down the streets in nothing but it and a sack of gold strapped to her waist, and no one would dare harm her – if not for her status as a member of the abbey, but the wrath of its Abbess. In fact, she was probably safer out in the roughest back-alley than here in the Governor's manse.

A chill ran down her spine as the Governor's fingers wrapped around her arm. "Come along to the dining room," he said, and gently pulled her away. Britta glanced over her shoulder at her sisters as they disappeared through the front entrance into the night.





Chapter 3


"Dux Lucius?"

Lucius leaned back from his desk and rubbed his eyes. He'd been so absorbed in his reading, he hadn't heard anyone approach. "Yes?" he said to the guard poking his head through the cracked door.

"The Governor requests your presence at supper tonight."

Lucius repressed the frown that worked to worm its way across his face. He took a moment to make sure frustration wouldn't creep into his voice before saying, "Tell the Governor the situation hasn't changed from earlier. It's been a long voyage, and I'd like to rest before making any public appearances."

"He said this was important. A guest has arrived."

Of course there was a guest. There were always guests. The Governor was a very busy man. Still, his father had agreed to honor Lucius's request to be left alone for a couple of days before taking up public life. So why the change?

"Who's the guest?" he asked.

"I'm not sure what her name is. A priestess from the local abbey," he said.

Lucius choked down the frustration that threatened to upset his practiced calm. Probably the Abbess of the Night, Lucius thought. That made sense, about the only person in the city the Governor would break his promise to leave Lucius alone for. And that was fine, he wasn't concerned for himself. His request for a few days to relax was for Ava's sake, not his. Personally, Lucius was ready to get to work. Anything to keep him from sitting around ruminating.

"Tell the Governor I'll be down in a moment," he said.

The guard left without so much as a salute. Lucius went to the corner of the room where Ava slept in her little bed. A funny way too, like none he'd ever seen. Arms at her side, face planted on the pillow towards him, her knees tucked under her stomach so her butt stuck up in the air; how she could be comfortable baffled him. The limberness of youth, maybe. He didn't know whether to wake her or let her sleep. Ideally, he didn't want to leave her at all – not yet.

Lucius remembered what it was like waking in a strange land to find his parents gone, what it was like to stumble through the terrifying dark, desperate for human contact, seeking protection from the monsters that haunted therein. To this day, Lucius couldn't stand the night. Veteran that he was, it wasn't a child's fear, but something more. His dislike was philosophical, mystical, religious. The dark hid secrets, dangers, and lies. Only the light of day could part the veil of shadow and shade. The sun, unconquered and unconquerable, always rose in its battle against the forces of literal darkness. Triumphant, orderly, eternal, Lucius sought to emulate it, take from it lessons that would make his life bearable since Shavana's death.

Dux Lucius wiped the sweat that had formed on his brow. The candles in the room made it hot, and his nearness to the little bundle of heat snoring softly on the bed didn't help. He bent over and kissed her forehead. She stirred and mumbled something incoherent, but didn't wake.

He'd leave her, he thought, to do his business as his father bid, but he wouldn't blow out the lights, in case she woke during his absence.

***

How long would she have to wait? The Governor had brought her into the dining room. Not so large as the communal dining room for the sisters in the abbey, but certainly much more well appointed, with silver spoons and finely glazed plates and cups set out shining and glittering under the candle chandeliers. Her eyes hurt from the brightness. It was big and empty. Every movement she made echoed from the walls emphasizing the loneliness of her situation. She was a pawn in someone else's game. Why hadn't the Abbess argued to stay? Why had Britta been left alone to deal with such a precarious political situation? She was the New Moon: vestal, virginal bride-to-be – not a politician. Thrust into the position of diplomat, Britta realized how poor her education as future leader of the abbey had been. Goddess, she thought, Weboshi was right: I'm being set up to fail. She'd been abandoned by the sisters who supposedly loved her most. It stabbed at her chest in a way she wouldn't have expected until it actually happened.

What was it about her that made people want to leave her behind? Britta barely had enough time to let the idea settle before the door to the dining room swung open and in stepped the Governor with a young man she assumed was her groom-to-be in tow.

On the tall side of average, he stood with a straight military bearing that made him look even taller. Like the men of his culture, he wore a light linen tunic that exposed the tight muscles of his legs and arms. Dark, short cropped hair above eyes of sharp green, framed a square face, its handsomeness only marred by the sternness of his expression. Or was it sternness? Perhaps it was a blank passivity. Perhaps it was nothing at all, but it struck Britta as cold, contrasting with the handsomeness of his features that, in and of themselves, would have left her breathless otherwise.