Reign of Shadows (Reign of Shadows, #1)(50)

I stepped onto the waiting lift, making room for Luna. The space wasn’t very big and the three of us had to stand close.

As we ascended, I looked down, watching as dwellers of all shapes converged on the spot we stood only moments ago. Several tilted their heads up, the sensors on their grotesque faces writhing as we lifted higher and higher, climbing up into the city nestled between thick trees.

One glance up revealed we were almost to the top.

“Let me do the talking,” I whispered into her ear. “Stay back behind me.”

When the lift stopped, I saw that it opened to a landing. Several dozen people milled about, including the archers who had come to our aid.

They craned their necks to get a glimpse of us. Amid the mass of people there was a decided lack of young women—proof that news of the king’s decree had reached here.

The man who shared the lift with us stepped out and turned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Welcome.” He was almost bald. A shadow of gray hugged his skull, the stubble of new hair growth.

I nodded, my gaze flitting from him to the men flanking him. “Thank you.” I understood their caution. I would be cautious of any newcomers, too.

But that didn’t mean I trusted them either.

“I’m Glagos, sheriff of Ortley. Is it just you and the boy?” His gaze dipped down to the forest floor as though we had left others below. He fingered a thick-ridged scar that bisected his cheek.

“Yes. This is my brother.” I tapped my head. “Don’t expect too much from him. He’s a little slow.”

Glagos’s gaze considered Luna for a moment. A quick glance back revealed she was doing her part, looking sideways rather vacantly, her expression vague and absentminded.

“I see. Are you both looking to settle here—”

“We’re just moving through. Hoping to refresh and gather more supplies. Dried kelp if you have any to—”

“We don’t just pass out our reserves to every stranger. We do nothing out of the kindness of our hearts. I don’t need to explain to you just how hard life is.”

“No. You don’t. I’m willing to work for any supplies.”

“Good. That’s the only way you’ll get any.” Glagos grinned, but there was something in that smile that made me uneasy. “We always need able-bodied men.” His gaze flicked to Luna and he went back to stroking the puckered skin of his scar. “Don’t expect he’s much of a worker. You’ll have to—”

“I can work enough for both of us. Whatever you need.”

“Very good.” He nodded, looking pleased. He glanced around, scanning the crowd. “Now let’s see. We’ll board you with—”

“Me.” An old woman stepped forward, her cane thumping on the wood planks. Her back was hunched and bent. It looked painful. I was surprised she could still walk.

She smiled a mostly toothless grin, her rheumy eyes gazing me up and down before fixing on Luna. “I’ll take them.”





TWENTY-THREE


Luna


“HERE WE ARE,” the old woman said. “I’ve two spare rooms. Bigger than what most people have here. It’s just me now. My family’s gone. I’ve some skills so they’ve allowed me this luxury.”

A room to myself would be a step above sleeping in trees or buried deep in shrubs or the occasional cave. And yet not being close to Fowler anymore would be strange. I didn’t know if I would feel entirely safe without his steady breath beside me.

“My name is Mirelya,” the old woman added.

Fowler made a small sound that I took for agreement. “Thank you, Mirelya. We won’t be here long.”

I immediately evaluated my surroundings, measuring the airflow, sensing obstructions, estimating the room’s width and length. I processed it all, my measurements clicking through my mind like dominoes dropping into position. I had a fairly good sense of where the walls ended and began. My boots thudded lightly over the plank flooring. The front window was open, its leather draping flapping lightly in a breeze, letting in a gust of wind that smelled pungent, ripe with the scent of dwellers gathered below the village.

Somewhere, a few houses over, a baby cried. It was strange hearing that sound and knowing it for what it was without having ever heard it before. A baby alive amid all this made tears burn at the backs of my eyes. This place could have been my sanctuary. High in the trees, it could have been an echo of the life Perla and Sivo described to me. The kind of life my parents had lived. Free. The king’s decree made that impossible, of course. Plus Fowler would never stay here. His dream was Allu.

The gentle aroma of candle wax weaved with the warm, yeasty scent of bread. I inhaled deeply, reveling in it. It smelled like home. I brushed my fingers along the back of a chair, thinking of Sivo and Perla, hoping they were well.

“I am certain you desire to leave with all haste.” Mirelya laughed then, a full-bodied laugh that cracked like dry leaves underfoot and ended in a hacking cough.

I winced. “Are you well? Do you need some water?” There was a pitcher on the table, crisp water within it.

“I’m fine. Older than I have any right to be. I’ve buried two husbands and four children, but somehow I’m still here. If I’m lucky, my time will come soon enough.”