Jon Sprunk - Shadow's master

“Took your time,” Malig said.

Caim grunted. “You look like I feel.”

“Yeah, I ran into some trouble. Not even sure how I got here, to tell you the truth. Thought I'd lost your girlfriend, too, but I see she made it out all right.”

Caim nodded. Were any of them going to be all right, ever again?

“Anyways,” Malig said. “I figured you be along sooner or later. No sense in starting back home alone.”

Caim brushed a strand of silver hair out of Kit's eyes. She looked better, just tired. The bruising around her eyes had subsided. To have her, alive and human…it was more than he'd ever dreamt could be true. Yet something remained between them, and he had to deal with it if their relationship was going any further.

“I need a favor,” he said.

“Not another fucking quest, I hope.”

“Just keep watch over her until I get back.”

Malig shrugged. “Fine. Just don't take too long. I still don't like this place.”

That makes two of us.

Caim walked away before he changed his mind. He'd put this off long enough. He navigated a path down through the foothills. Once he was well away from Kit and Malig, he slipped into a gap between two tall boulders. Not sure how to bend his powers to what he wanted to do, he closed his eyes and listened to his breathing. It was steady, but his heartbeat thumped loud in his eardrums. He set the sword against a rock and he reached under his shirt. The golden pendant was warm as he slipped his fingers around it and jerked, snapping the cord. He held it up. The key turned slowly on its tether. The power coursed through him, strong and intoxicating. There was no pain as the portal opened before him. At least, not physical pain.

Caim stepped out onto soft carpet. The night wind whispered against heavy fabric. Outside, a horse whickered.

Instead of a grand hall lit with candles and oil lamps, he was inside a dark pavilion held up by two stout poles jammed in the ground. It was cold, too, despite the miniature cast-iron stove resting beside a large table.

Caim was beginning to think he'd come to the wrong place when he noticed the cot on the other side of the tent. The long, black hair on the pillow gave her away. Watching Josey, Caim realized he'd missed her. It seemed like he hadn't seen her in years. So much had happened since Othir. I've changed.

He peered out the tent flap. Soldiers lounged around campfires in the field outside. Four men in heavy plate armor stood at attention just a few steps from the tent. Caim let the flap fall back and turned to the table, which was covered in maps and sheaves of papers. He scanned a report from Hubert about Mecantia. Something about succession. The tent, the maps, the army. She's changed, too. She is truly an empress now. How does Her Highness remember the hired killer who helped her secure the throne? As a hero, or a convenient accident?

Wood creaked as she sat up. For a moment she couldn't see him through the jumble of her hair, and Caim took that time to study the girl he'd rescued from a High Town mansion. She looked a little older, more mature, but that could have been the silk nightgown with pearls sewn into the collar. “Iola?”

Caim stepped into the firelight. “It's me.”

He wasn't sure what he had expected. Recriminations? Kisses? Hurling teacups? But there was only silence. Then she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh…” He sighed, not sure how to boil down the last few months into a simple explanation. “I wanted to see you.”

“You don't look so good,” she said.

“It must be true. Everybody says so.”

“Did you just arrive? I was about to ask how you got inside here without being announced.” She smiled. “But I remember how good you are at breaking into guarded places.”

“Where are we?”

“How couldn't you know wh-?”

“Never mind. Have you crossed into Eregoth yet?”

“No. Have you seen Keegan?”

“You've met Keegan? Hagan's son Keegan?”

She stood up, holding a blanket over her body. “Of course. He's the reason we won.”

“Won what?”

By the time she'd finished her tale of assassination attempts, battles, and the new alliance between Nimea and the “high captain” of Eregoth, Caim was speechless. He never would have suspected it. No, that's not true. I saw her greatness, that day at the cemetery in Othir. She was born to be empress. And Keegan had proved himself worthy again. While it was painful to know that death had come to so many in Eregoth, Keegan was the man to rebuild the war-ravaged country. He'd have to tell Malig.

She walked around the stove. “What of your quest? Did you find…?”

“My mother?” Caim paused as the pain of losing her, still fresh, ripped through him. “Yes, I found her. But she's gone.”

“I'm sorry.”

He nodded.

“And what about you?” Josey asked. “Are you back now? To stay, I mean?”

Caim held out the key pendant. “No. I came back to give you this.”

Josey took it from his hand. For a moment their fingers touched. Then she threw herself into his arms. She was warm and soft, not the scrawny girl he'd left behind, but even as he held her Caim didn't feel the same ardor that had swept over him before. He loved her, and would always love her, but she wasn't the one he wanted.

“I'm sorry.” It sounded pathetic, but he didn't know what else to say. He could hardly tell her about Kit. “I can't imagine what you've been through, but I know I'm not the one to share it with.”

Caim started to reach for her shoulders to push her back, but Josey broke the embrace first. “Caim, there's something you should-” She shook her head. “Just know that I'm fine. I always knew I couldn't hold you, but I'll always love you. I hope you're happy.”

“You know me. When am I ever happy? Is it all right if I check up on you once in a while?”

“Anytime you want. But use the door next time. All right?”

Caim looked at her, trying to etch this moment into his memory as he stepped back into the shadows. Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry. He gave her a nod, and then he departed.

The portal snapped shut between them.

Josey stared at the spot where Caim had disappeared and wondered if she'd dreamt it all. Then she squeezed the key pendant in her hand.

An animal bleated outside the tent, and in that moment, in the darkness, Josey felt his absence fully for the first time. She could still smell his sweat, his dyed leathers, the faint metallic scent of his knives, the oil of his unwashed hair. She had held out hope that he would return for so long, but the hope had grown fainter with the passing days. Until now. He was her friend, her first lover, and now he was gone.

Josey caressed her belly. Why hadn't she said anything about the child? Caim deserved to know he was going to be a father. Why? So I can make him stay with me? Is that what I want? No, this isn't Caim's child. It's mine.

But a memory bubbled up through her brain, of a moment she'd shared with Hirsch before the final battle. “You remember you asked me about my magic?” he had asked.

“Yes,” she answered, her mind focused on the oncoming fight.

“Well, one of my gifts is the ability to sense the power in others.”

She wasn't in the mood for cryptic talk. “What are you talking about?”

The adept leaned closer, until the brim of his hat almost touched her forehead. “The child, lass. He'll be strong in the Art. Damned strong.”

Strong like his father.

Fingernails scratched at the tent flap as Iola peeked inside. “Majesty, is everything all right? The guards heard voices.”

“Come in. Please.” Josey dropped her hand from her stomach. “I was just talking to myself.”