Sandy Williams - The Shadow Reader

Garrad leaps to his feet. His sword is halfway out of its scabbard when it’s suddenly rammed back in. The flesh at his throat splits open. Blood pours out the deep gash. It pours out of his mouth when he gurgles out a cough. He staggers into the wall, starts to slide down it, but vanishes into the ether before he reaches the floor.

A cold fist clenches in my chest as I watch Garrad’s soul-shadow rise up.

Micid reappears.

“You didn’t have to kill him.” My words are barely a whisper. No one was supposed to die.

He wipes his blade clean on his sleeve. “He would have prevented me from opening the humans’ cell. Where is it?”

“You could have knocked him out.” Garrad was one of Kyol’s men. Kyol trusted him. He trusted me.

Micid shrugs. “The humans, shadow-reader. Our time is limited.”

My skin is clammy, my fingers prickling and numb. I can’t tear my gaze away from the bloodstain on the floor. I can’t forget the shock in Garrad’s eyes, but I jab a finger toward the wall. I don’t know what else to do. I’m committed now. I can’t not go through with this.

Micid drags the cart out of the way. “Where is the triggerstone?”

“Above you.”

“Where?” He motions me forward. “Show me.”

Heart stammering, I walk to the wall and stand on my tiptoes to touch the stone.

“Here?” he asks.

His hand brushes mine, and I jerk back. “Yes.”

The stone glows blue with his magic. When I hear the first rumblings of the slab moving aside, I try to slip away, but Micid moves. I end up trapped between him and the cart. He bumps my shoulder— not accidentally—then catches me when I teeter off-balance. The way his hands grab hold of my hips is way too intimate. I panic.

I shove away, but somehow end up even closer to him. He laughs when I struggle, then stops when I manage to get my dagger out of its sheath. I spin out of his arms and hold it between us.

I cut him. His right sleeve is slit and there’s a thin line of blood on his pale skin. Really, it’s no more than a scratch, but apparently that’s enough to piss him off. His expression darkens a second before he disappears.

Oh, crap.

I scurry backward. My arm goes numb when my dagger is knocked from my hand. Micid, still invisible, launches into me. I crash down on my back. His hand tightens around my throat. I pry at fingers I can’t see, try to squeak out a call for help, but there’s no air. The wall was sliding open, wasn’t it? Where the hell is—

“McKenzie?” Naito stands above me. As my vision blurs, I see him scan me from head to toe. Then, finally , he kicks out.

Micid grunts. I suck in a breath and punch at where I think his head should be. I miss.

“Naito!” I manage a shout before a hand clamps around my throat again.

Naito launches himself on top of me. The other human joins him, striking at the space between us. I slide across the ground, away from the fight, and suck air into my lungs. By the time I’m breathing normally, the struggle’s over.

“What is this?” Naito shoves Micid, apparently still caught in the In-Between, away.

“Ever hear of a ther’rothi ?”

He scowls. “They don’t exist.”

“Apparently, they do,” I say, climbing to my feet. The other human helps Naito up. “Lord Raen hired him to help get you out.”

Naito, dusting himself off, stops midbrush and stiffens. “Lord Raen?”

I don’t get a chance to explain. There’s the sound of running footsteps, then the fae who was left guarding the door to the storage room rounds the corner. He skids to a halt, surveying the scene behind the blade of his sword. I follow his line of sight to the puddle of blood on the floor.

“We didn’t kill him,” I say, though guilt stabs through me. I’m at least partially responsible for Garrad’s death. I brought Micid here.

“Back into the cell,” the fae orders, taking a step forward. I back up. Naito stands his ground, but the other human moves to the left, bends down, and retrieves my dropped dagger.

“Back in the cell, Evan,” the fae tries in English.

“No,” Evan says. He has no hope of taking down a fae, especially one of Kyol’s swordsmen, with that dagger. He must be desperate, though, because he strikes at the air with an aggressive—and almost comical—roar.

I frown, wondering if his time in captivity has screwed with his mind. Then, out of the corner of my eye, something moves.

The pole of a spear slams into the fae’s head. He drops like a rock, Lord Raen standing behind him.

“Where’s Micid?” Raen demands.

I wave a hand toward the floor behind me. “Somewhere over there.”

His jaw tightens. “He was your escort.”

“Looks like we’re going to need a Plan B.” I won’t apologize for Micid. I don’t think the ther’rothi is dead, just unconscious, either from my dagger’s poison or Naito and Evan’s attack.

“Plan B?” Raen asks. He doesn’t get it, and I’m not going to explain.

Naito walks past Raen without so much as a glance and kneels beside the unconscious fae guard. He searches his clothing, finds a set of keys on a metal ring, and pockets them.

Evan belts a sword around his waist, grabs a crossbow off the wall, then surveys the rest of the storage room. “Nice of Taltrayn to lock us in an arsenal.”

Naito takes the guard’s dropped sword. When he rises, Lord Raen steps forward.

“Kelia. I must speak with her.”

When Naito turns his back on the noble, a throb of sympathy courses through me. I don’t know what Raen did to make Naito hate him so much or to make his daughter sever all ties. It has to be something worse than just disapproving of their relationship.

Lord Raen makes a noise, then steps in front of Naito. “My daughter. I will speak with her.”

Naito’s eyes are cold. “She doesn’t want to speak to you.”

“You will make her.”

“No.” He steps around Raen.

Raen puts his arm up, not letting him pass. “You will make her.”

Naito’s lip curls. “I won’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

“There was another fae guarding this storage room,” Raen says, his tone even more threatening than Naito’s. “He’ll return, and when he does, I can delay him or tell him where you are.”

I step between the two men. “I’ll tell her to talk to you.”

Naito turns his glare on me.

“We’re wasting time,” I say. “We need to go.”

Evan surveys the storage room. “We need to blend in if we’re going to walk out of here. Cover up our skin.”

While they search the room for some kind of disguise, I turn to Raen. “Watch for the other fae. Please. I promise I’ll talk to Kelia.”

At first, I don’t think he’s going to budge. Cold, silver eyes watch Naito. The animosity in the air is almost tangible. This is hard for him, helping the human who took his daughter away.

Finally, he sighs. He takes off his gloves one at a time, shrugs out of his robe, hands it all to me, then silently walks to the door to stand guard.

“That’ll work,” Evan says, nodding at the robe in my hands. Then he holds out the dagger Raen gave me. “We haven’t exactly met. I’m Evan. I read the shadows for Aren before the Court caught me.”

“McKenzie,” I say, taking the dagger.

He nods. “The nalkin-shom . I’ve heard of you.”

I manage not to roll my eyes. “Seems like everyone has.”

He laughs and then helps me slip on Raen’s robe.

We rummage through the room for another minute. Evan and Naito find armor that covers everything but their hands and faces. I end up giving Raen’s gloves to Naito. They fit him better, and we decide he’s the best swordsman out of the three of us—I wasn’t really a contender. We find only one other glove. Evan pulls it on and settles for pulling his sleeve down over his other hand. I plan to keep both my hands beneath my robe unless I absolutely have to take them out.