Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(55)

“Your friend Valoria spilled her breakfast on me.” He grins, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen someone jump that much at a simple hello.”

“And in other news,” Simeon cuts in, his voice rough from lack of sleep, “Danial might be moving back to Oslea thanks to our recent foray into the Deadlands.”

“What?” I put an arm around his shoulders.

“After all that’s happened, he thinks it’s too dangerous.” Simeon rolls his eyes, but the gesture does nothing to hide his pain. “I told him about rescuing Evander’s sister, and he told me to leave the Shade-baiter to you and Jax. He said if I don’t, I might lose him for good.”

Jax spits on the polished tile floor, showing exactly what he thinks of that.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” I say quickly. “I knew Danial was scared for you. I knew he didn’t want you going to the Deadlands, but—”

“You did the right thing. I won’t abandon my family, not even for the handsomest face in Karthia.” With a great shuddering breath, he seems to bury his misery deep and return to his usual good-natured self. “So, are we going to stand around discussing our feelings all day, or do you want to go get your sword and join us, sister?”

“You both realize Vane is probably hiding in the Deadlands somewhere, right?” As I say it, both Jax and Simeon frown slightly, and I relent. “We can check the Ashes first, though. I’ll be quick,” I promise as I spin around and run back to my room.

I grab my sword off the desk, and right as I pull it from its scabbard to check it over from yesterday’s fight, someone knocks briskly at the door.

“Simeon! I said I’d be right back.”

But the knock comes again.

Meredy Crowther is in my doorway, wearing Evander’s smile, holding out a bunch of fiery poppies whose bright petals mean consolation. “Thank you,” she says tersely as she steps past me, entering my room again without invitation, “for saving my life.”

She thrusts the flowers at me, and I take them with my free hand, studying her over the poppies. She looks almost as pale as she did when she was bleeding from the Shade-baiters’ attack, but her wounds are healed and her hair is braided into a neat crown.

“These are nice,” I mutter, bringing the flowers to my nose. “Really. Thanks.” It took courage to come here after the things we said to each other. I’ll give her that. But I have no idea why she’s still standing here, looking at me expectantly. “So . . . are you staying in Grenwyr City for—?”

I feel something scurry over my hand. Several somethings. A shiny black bug drops from the bouquet onto my boot, and I stifle the urge to shout as I stamp on it. But when another bug crawls up my arm, I curse and throw the flowers across the room.

A stalk of deep purple foxglove, the symbol of insincerity, falls from the middle of the bouquet.

“Death be damned, these are infested! Where’d you find them? A dung heap?”

Meredy’s face flushes as she stamps on every bug she spots. “So burn them,” she mutters. “I wouldn’t have come here at all if my mother hadn’t dragged me the whole way and insisted I thank you. If you ask me, you don’t deserve any thanks. I wish you’d left me there to die . . .” She squishes the last bug, then frowns at me.

For some reason, the sight makes my temples throb.

Meredy’s pale skin turns mottled gray. Her arms grow long and skeletal. Peeling, decaying flesh bubbles on her cheeks, and her mouth, opening in surprise, is full of sharp teeth.

I shut my eyes and lean against the wall of my room, willing the hallucination to stop. But when I crack an eye open, Shade Meredy is still standing there, watching me with dark holes for eyes, snarling with her jaw unhinged and her pointy teeth exposed. Looking hungry.

“Odessa?” Her usually cool voice is tinged with concern despite her vicious appearance. “What’s going on?”

“M-monster,” I grit out, keeping my eyes shut tight. My whole skull hurts worse than it did the time Simeon and I rolled down a giant hill and he accidentally kicked me in the back of the head.

“What did you just call me?” Meredy’s too-sharp voice crashes into my aching head.

“No, I mean—because—” I won’t tell her about the potions. I can’t.

“You don’t get to judge me for trying to bring Firiel back when I didn’t know she’d refuse to come. How could I have known that, after all the things we promised each other?” A sob escapes her. “I never should have come here!”

She slams the door behind her, and the moment her rapid footsteps in the hallway fade, I crawl toward the stash of calming potions under my bed. With the bitter liquid trickling down my throat, the pain in my head starts to recede, and I can see the trampled flowers on the floor clearly again.

I doubt Meredy will ever come back here. And I’m glad. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, especially not her, a girl who’s lost more than I have. Evander wouldn’t recognize me right now, and that alone makes me wish I could stop needing the potion—but I’m even more afraid of what I’ll feel without it.

I’m afraid of so many things.

Like a rogue necromancer who can control Shades.

After what I witnessed when I rescued Meredy, I wonder if Evander’s death or Master Nicanor’s were the random violent acts of a Shade. I wonder if their killer had a master and was following orders. A rogue necromancer guiding the giant Shade and feeding it corpses would explain why it was so much stronger than the usual monsters lurking in the Deadlands.