James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Muttering a curse under his breath, Davian flung himself to his feet. He usually woke at dawn and had trusted his body to keep to that schedule, but apparently he had deprived it of sleep for one too many nights in a row. The knocking came again; hurriedly throwing on some clothes, he stumbled over to the door and opened it.

The girl waiting outside had blond hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and the recent good weather had left her with the faintest smattering of freckles high on her cheeks. She smiled at him, a guileless expression, and amusement danced in her sea-green eyes.

“Hello, Ash,” Davian said awkwardly, suddenly aware of his dishevelled appearance.

“Morning, Dav. You look….”

“I know.” He raked through his thick, unruly black hair with his fingers, but he knew it would make little difference. “Apparently I overslept.”

“Apparently you did. Quite a bit,” said Asha, with a brief, meaningful glance towards the window. Then, after a careful examination of the hallway to check they were truly alone, she lowered her voice. “Mistress Alita’s been keeping me on the run this morning, but I came as soon as I had an excuse." Her smile faded. "I heard about Leehim.”

The memory of the previous night came crashing back into Davian; it must have shown in his expression because Asha stepped forward, eyes suddenly soft with sympathy and concern. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” It was a lie; he actually felt a renewed flood of fear as he remembered Leehim’s convulsing form, the black veins crawling their way across the other boy’s face. Still, he wasn’t about to admit any of that to Asha. “It was nothing I hadn’t seen before. It just… reminded me how close the Trials are, I suppose.”

Asha grimaced at that but nodded, saying nothing.

Davian’s chest tightened a little as he watched her. As the last few months had flown by, he’d faced plenty of fears about becoming a Shadow. It had only been recently, though, that he’d realised that never being able to see Asha again was far and away the worst of them. That their friendship of the past couple of years had developed into something more, at least for him.

But he couldn’t say anything. Not now. It would only make the next few weeks harder on both of them, regardless of whether Asha felt the same way.

There was silence for a few moments; Davian glanced at the angle of the sun, which was high enough now that it barely came through his east-facing window. “I’ll tell you the full story later,” he promised, suddenly remembering that he had other responsibilities. He forced a smile as he spoke, trying to sound cheerful. “I’m supposed to be going into Caladel today.”

“You were supposed to be going into Caladel two or three hours ago,” corrected Asha. “Actually – I don’t want to make your day any worse, but that’s why I’m here. Mistress Alita realised that you haven’t been by to get the list.”

Davian groaned. “What did she say?” Mistress Alita took students shirking their responsibilities more seriously than any of the Elders. Worse, having all but raised Davian, any sign of him avoiding his tasks was considered by the head cook to be a personal affront.

Asha shrugged. “You know – the usual. Something about you, boiling water and that large knife she keeps hanging by the bench. It was too detailed to remember all of it.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to repeat it for you, though.”

“Wonderful.” Davian paused. “I don’t suppose you could… omit… that I overslept, when you speak to her?”

"She’s going to ask."

"Lie." Davian raised an eyebrow. "I meant lie."

Asha gave him a look of mock surprise. “You of all people….”

Davian sighed, repressing a smile. “I’d owe you one.”

“Another one,” Asha corrected.

Davian narrowed his eyes, but this time couldn’t help grinning. “Thanks, Ash.”

Once Asha had vanished down the stairs he shut the door again, his mood improved. As little as he was looking forward to a tongue-lashing from Mistress Alita – and as heavily as the memory of last night was beginning to weigh on him again – waking up to a visit from Asha was far from a bad start to the day.

He stood in front of the mirror, taking a few minutes to rub the sleep from his eyes, straighten his clothes and rake his fingers through his hair until it sat in a vaguely respectable state. The Elders were firm on anyone going outside the school walls appearing presentable. He was already late, so there was no point worsening his lecture by rushing off and looking dishevelled into the bargain.

Finally satisfied with his appearance, Davian hurried down the spiral staircase of the North Tower and into the inner courtyard of the castle. A group of younger students were gathered around Elder Jarras at the far wall, some of them giggling at a story he was telling them. Davian watched as the thick-bearded man made a deliberately overdramatic sweeping gesture with his deep red Gifted’s cloak, his eyes widening comically, sending the children into more peals of laughter. Davian smiled. Everyone liked Jarras.

He moved on, hurrying through a narrow breezeway to the back entrance of the kitchen. Most of the students used the main door from the dining area, but he’d been a serving boy here long before becoming a student, and a lifetime of habit was hard to break.

He slipped inside as quietly as possible, taking in the familiar sensations. The heat from the fireplace as a pot boiled busily above crackling flames. The smells of various spices mingling together. The cheerful chatter from Tori and Gunder, the cook and her apprentice, their backs facing him as they chopped away at some vegetables. Even after three years, this felt more like home than his room in the tower ever had.

He hesitated; Mistress Alita was nowhere to be seen. Tori, a middle-aged, dowdy woman who had always spoiled him before he had discovered he was Gifted, finally noticed that someone had entered. She glanced away again when she realised who it was. Her conversation with Gunder died within seconds as the teenage boy saw too.

Davian flushed, as always feeling like he was intruding. Gunder and Davian had been apprentices together, had shared a room until Davian’s abilities were uncovered. Now they were strangers. The servants here might work for the Gifted, but the war had left too many scars for them to look past what their employers were. What he was.

Sometimes he caught the familiar faces looking at him, a kind of sad accusation in their eyes. As if he had betrayed them, chosen this path rather than been pushed down it.

Davian forced himself to ignore the stares today, eyes darting around the room for the slip of paper that would tell him what was needed from town. If he could just find that list and leave before Mistress Alita returned….

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

The familiar voice came from behind him. His heart sank as he turned to see the head cook standing with a frown plastered across her face, waving the list at him.

Davian grimaced. “Sorry,” he said, abashed.

The portly woman shook her head in irritation. “Don’t apologise to me. The Elders are the ones whose plates will be empty at lunch. I’ll be sure to let them know who to speak to when they ask why.”

Mistress Alita seemed about to launch into one of her tirades when she suddenly stopped, eyes narrowing as she examined his appearance. “You look tired.” She was clearly still displeased with him, but there was a question in her voice now. “I haven’t laid eyes on you in days.”

Davian glanced over towards Tori and Gunder, but they had both returned to their task and were talking amongst themselves. Students were not supposed to speak to non-Gifted about their training, but he and Mistress Alita regularly flouted that rule. She had looked after him for years after he’d been left to the school’s care as an infant. She had a right to know at least a little of what was going on in his life.