Reign of Shadows (Reign of Shadows, #1)(67)

Our friendship existed on his terms. He approached me only when I stopped. He chose when I could touch him. He chose when to sniff me, when to graze me with that looping tail of his. If I climbed a tree, sometimes he joined me. Other times he ran off, not returning for several hours. I didn’t mind. I was glad for his company on any terms.

I decided to head south and follow the Kangese River before turning west to Relhok City. I would briefly cross into Lagonia’s lands. Sivo’s lessons played over in my mind. He had taught me all about the kingdom—my kingdom, as he had frequently reminded me. He had schooled me in its geography. Beyond that, he told me about the other kingdoms that surrounded Relhok: Neliam, Carondale, and Lagonia. He had even imparted everything he knew about the far distant lands on the other side of our seas. Not that any of that mattered greatly now. I only needed to worry about reaching the capital, giving wide berth to the villages and cities that may or may not even exist anymore along the way.

Sivo had provided me with a mental picture of the world, including how it used to be and what it was like now—at least as much as he knew from residing in seclusion.

The world as it truly was, what it was actually like to live in . . . Fowler taught me that lesson.

The world was a merciless place. Hard and cruel. Except when you found someone to trust and love. Life, however fleeting, possessed meaning then. Knowing Fowler and loving him had given my life that meaning. I could always cling to that. I always would. Until the end.

I was being followed.

At first it was just a vague sense—a possibility that I dismissed as a result of my constant state of vigilance.

I listened but could hear nothing over the wind and drum of my own heart. Digger had left on one of his private excursions a while ago, and I tried not to long for him too hard. He was a wild animal that roamed where he wished. He wasn’t a pet. Shaking my head, I told myself I was just being overly anxious. Out here, alone, my nerves were a stretched string ready to snap.

It was midlight again. I could tell by the crispness draped over the pungent marshland I presently trekked across. The air felt less cold on my skin, too. I was covering good ground at least, despite the nasty stretch of bog sucking and pulling at my boots.

It wasn’t an outright swampland. Each step plunged me down with a squish, mud splattering all the way up to my knees. I pushed on faster, my strides gobbling up ground, determined to put more distance between Ortley and me. Fowler and me.

I doubted Fowler would give pursuit. He had dropped his walls to trust me, and I had left him. I doubted he would understand and overcome that betrayal easily. No, he would push on for Allu.

And that was for the best—no matter how it swiped a claw at my heart.

Even the bitter sting of my thoughts didn’t block out the prickle at the back of my neck. The sensation at my nape swept up, pulling my skull tight. I slowed my strides and stopped, immediately sinking deeper.

Standing still, I listened. It was there. A steady whooshing that fell evenly, like the sound a towel makes when it’s whipped in the air. It was more than that sound though. It was a sense, too. Something was coming in fast and hard at my back. Given that it was midlight, this wasn’t a dweller. I turned my head left and right, assessing for a place to hide from whatever it was that was coming. I was out in the open, a stretch of barren landscape with only a few shrubs and far-off trees. My flesh puckered to gooseflesh. I was exposed and vulnerable.

Swallowing back a wet breath, I ran hard for the nearest tree, splashing through the bog. In my haste, I tripped once and ate a mouthful of foul water. Spewing the sludge from my face, I pushed back up to my feet and kept going.

The wind shook the tree’s branches. They sounded brittle, but I only hoped they were sturdy enough and had enough leaves to provide some cover from whoever was out there. Slogging through the mud, I told myself it would have to do. Midlight was already fading. I didn’t want to spend the day stuck up in a tree if I didn’t have to. Hopefully dwellers avoided this swamp like they did lakes.

Reaching the tree, I climbed it easily, scaling up its length, muttering one of Fowler’s curses. It creaked under my weight, bits of bark flying off and crumbling under my clawing fingers. One of my nails cracked. I pushed on, whimpering as a sliver of wood imbedded itself in my palm.

The trunk was nowhere near as large as those of the trees that had surrounded Ortley. It swayed in the wind as I reached as high as I could go. It was with some effort that I balanced myself in the nest of fragile branches. Finding as solid a perch as I could, I waited, listening again to all the obvious and not so obvious sounds around me.

The whooshing grew louder. I turned in its direction, hanging on tightly from my position. It was a person. I marked the even two-footed tread, the loping gait. That one foot . . . the right foot that always hit the ground just a fraction harder.

Fowler.

Relief coursed through me. My head dropped and I sagged, tension slipping from my shoulders. Outrage followed, eclipsing all else. I adjusted my weight, stiffening at the sudden protesting crack of a branch. My nails dug deeper into rough bark. Leaving him was the hardest thing I had ever done. Even harder than leaving Sivo and Perla. I didn’t know if I had the strength in me to do it again.

I waited, hoping against all hope that he might pass the tree and keep going. It was possible. Any tracks would be hard to read in this bog. Any steps I’d taken had to be swallowed back up the instant I made them. If I could just hold silent and use the branches for cover and not make a sound—