Mask of Shadows (Untitled #1)(48)

Fallow.

We weren’t fallow. Our home wasn’t a field left bare so they could profit. I squeezed my eyes shut as the word ripped its way through my chest and burrowed into my heart. They killed us and had the arrogance to call our blood-soaked lands “fallow.” I crumbled, sure I’d split in two with each shuddering gasp. My mask caught in my mouth.

I ripped it off. The weight of everything—Nacea, the shadows, Seve, his information—pressed into my back, digging into my bones like burrs I’d never be able to unhook. I curled up in the garden, muffling the sobs with my arms.

I didn’t feel better. I didn’t feel better at all. I had their names, but Nacea was still there, looming at the edge of my mind, threatening to remind me of pain and fear and blood with each glance toward Seve’s still hands. I couldn’t leave him here.

He didn’t deserve dying in the comfort of his own home, and I couldn’t leave it looking like a murder.

I dragged myself to his belongings and found a bottle of vile-smelling brandy wine. I poured out a measure in the glass next to the bottle and dribbled more into his open mouth. A fall would snap a neck.

He drank. He fell. He died.

It could happen to anyone.

I set everything up to look like a late night drink, fingers trembling as I straightened his sleeve and pulled him back up to the ledge.

“You’d best hope your Triad are more merciful than me,” I said and shoved.

He landed headfirst with a bone-snapping thunk. I leapt down next to him and sprang to my feet. The guards pacing around the area didn’t change course, no footsteps running toward me. I stared down at Seve, legs splayed and neck bent unnaturally. His neck was caught in the ivy scaling the bricks, tangled leaves holding tight to his slack face. Red spittle leaked from the corner of his mouth.

I checked his pulse and found nothing. “Blood owed, blood paid.”

The forest felt like home. Lights flickered from above, filtering down through the leaves, and guards patrolled the other edges of the forest with lanterns no larger than my hands. The familiarity of the leaves crunching beneath my boots, the darkness pressing down around me as I fled, ached in my chest, and I hid behind an old creaking oak, tears and laughter burning in my chest.

I’d done it.

I didn’t feel better, but it was done. Surely the terrible memories would ease the closer I got to the others. Seve was only one among many.

And I was still in the running to be Opal.

I stumbled toward my room, exhaustion crashing into me. Only Four was about, walking down the path from Emerald’s residences. The sound grated, and I groaned. My head ached with all that had happened tonight.

Four spun around. I dove to the side of the path. I couldn’t be seen, couldn’t let anyone know I’d been awake while a lord was murdered. They’d suspect the killers first, never one of their own, and they’d be right, but I couldn’t let them have me. Seve was only one.

North Star. Winter. Caldera. Riparian. Deadfall.

Four moved on down the path. I pulled myself from the underbrush, thorns stuck in my hands and the rotten scent of molded leaves clogging my throat. I shuddered.

The shiver stayed in my bones till long after I was curled up under the blankets in my bed, shadows with Seve’s hands clawing at my back.





Twenty-Eight


A streak of sunlight from the finger-thin slats in the ceiling seared my arm. I rose slowly, arms and legs heavy with sleep. The jaw-cracking yawn of a deep night’s sleep rattled me awake and cut Maud’s morning knock in half. I took my time telling her to come in, limbs wobbly as a kitten’s, and rolled out of bed. The moment she entered, mouth set in a sober line, I knew.

“What’s wrong?” I pulled on clean clothes and hoped my nonchalance sounded honest. “You’ve got that gossipy look about you.”

Maud glanced at the door and the slats in the ceiling before ducking her head down to speak—everyone did it when sharing secrets. “Lord del Seve died last night—fell off his roof.”

“What was he doing on the roof?” I pulled on my boots, furrowing my brows enough for her to see. “Thought all the people here had parlors and such?”

“Roof gardens are popular. Our Queen started using them when the school was besieged and they’d nowhere to grow food. The habit stuck.” Maud gathered up my clothes, eyes narrowed on my face, and looked me up and down. “You need to bathe eventually.”

“Do I?” I sniffed my shirt. “Smell like soap.”

“Disgusting,” Maud said. “I’ll draw a bath after breakfast. You’re not going to all your training, are you?”

“How’d you know that?”

She glanced at me over her shoulder. “It’s my job to know where you are and anticipate what you’ll want.”

“You should think about auditioning for Opal,” I said.

She laughed till we parted ways, and I ducked into the breakfast hall.

Only Amethyst was there, working her way through a stack of papers and a cup of tea. I sat at the other end of the table. Might as well let her drink in peace.

Eating with the mask on was a trick. I’d not caught them doing it yet, only the moments after.

“Your eating habits are worse than my brother’s,” Four said as he poured himself a cup of strong tea before he sat across from me, “and he’s barely five.”