Shadow Weaver Series, Book 1 Page 12

  “You don’t have to show them now if you don’t want to, dear,” Miranda says. “Magic is a personal thing.”

  “And for good reason,” Mrs. Rodan says. “You’re right to hesitate before showing off to strangers.” She shoots a meaningful glance at her son. “Your instincts will serve you well.”

  Lucas smiles encouragingly at me, but his mother clears her throat. “It’s late, and I think we’ve all had enough excitement for this evening. It is time for the children to go to bed.” She stands. “Come on, Doyle, Cary, we’ve got extra cots for you both. Cary, you’ll be in the same room as Emmeline, and Doyle, you’ll bunk with Lucas.”

  I trail after them like a shadow myself, but when Lucas looks back at me and beams, light fills me from my head to my toes.

  • • •

  I lay on my cot, Dar at my side, a few feet away from Cary. She didn’t say much other than “I bet your magic is more fun than my brother’s” and “good night,” before she turned on her side and began to snore.

  This is the time of night when Dar and I usually set out to collect an item for the ritual, but with the guests here—still awake and chatting in the sitting room—I don’t know if I should risk it. I never worried my parents might check on me when I was at home. But what if Mrs. Rodan checked on Cary and noticed I was missing? Then I’d have to answer for what I was doing in the woods at such a late hour. I don’t know how many times I can use the sleepwalking excuse and get away with it.

  Dar spills across my pillow. If they don’t stop jabbering soon, we shall have to wait until they leave. The full blood moon approaches swiftly so we can’t afford many delays, but it’s too risky tonight with everyone awake still.

  “I don’t know how long they’re staying,” I whisper.

  Hopefully not long, Dar says sharply. I curl onto my side.

  “Don’t be upset. I like them, but you’re my best friend. No one can take your place.”

  She wiggles. I am sorry. I hate being locked up like this. I want to play in the darkness.

  “Soon,” I promise. I lay on my back, but try as I might I still cannot fall asleep. The soft murmur of the adults’ voices echoes down the hallway.

  A wicked idea blooms in my mind.

  “Dar, how would you like to have a little fun right now?”

  She perks up, billowing out. I’m all ears.

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed and my bare feet hit the cold floor. Mrs. Rodan’s words from earlier about my instincts serving me well have been niggling at me. “I want to know what they talk about. Maybe they’re here for a reason, not just a visit.”

  Dar grows darker, her eagerness becoming a palpable thing.

  I gather my shadows to me as quietly as I can, so not to wake Cary. She doesn’t stir, and by the time I’m fully covered, my boldness has returned. I crack the door open, and the voices of the adults grow louder. There hasn’t been much laughter, not like there was earlier or before they arrived.

  They must be discussing something serious.

  Curiosity tingles up my arms, and I keep my shadows close as I creep down the hall. No one will see me unless I let them.

  I tiptoe to the edge of the sitting room but remain hidden in the shadows.

  I’ve missed this, Dar murmurs, and I can’t help but agree. Listening in on people—my parents, the odd visitor, the cook—always gave me a thrill. It made me feel closer to them, as if I actually knew them. Though tonight it’s tinged with an undercurrent of guilt.

  “Stay as long as you need to,” Miranda says.

  “Thank you, but it will be a brief visit this time,” Mr. Rodan says. “Only a day or two at most.”

  “That is likely safest. If Lady Aisling suspects you were hiding in Parilla, then moving on to Abbacho as quickly as possible is for the best,” Alfred says.

  My body goes rigid. Tate and his companion spoke of Lady Aisling, too. Tate worked for her.

  That can’t be good, Dar says, a tremor in her voice.

  This time, I dare to peer around the corner to see them. The adults sit on opposite sides of the couch, while Lucas’s father refills their glasses with a light, sparkling liquid.

  Miranda is oddly quiet and stares at her glass as the liquid swirls inside it. Alfred puts a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, she has no reason to stop here. No one even knows this cottage exists.”

  Mrs. Rodan sighs. “We should have followed your lead and moved every two years to a different spot in the woods. It was smart of you. And it was foolish of us not to take advantage of the network sooner.” She lowers her voice and sets her glass on the table untouched as though she can’t stomach it anymore. “Did you hear about the Hamlins’ daughter? Lady Aisling got her claws into her a few weeks ago. Her soldiers have been prowling villages on the border of Zinnia and Parilla for more talented children ever since, and are moving steadily inward. Their cover has something to do with that treaty the Zinnians proposed to unite all three territories under one rule.”

  The hair raises on the back of my neck, shooting shivers down my spine. This Lady Aisling is looking for talented children? I knew she and Tate offered a cure to those parents who had problems with their children’s talents, but actively hunting for them is another matter entirely. It seems Lord Tate was not really visiting my parents’ estate about a treaty after all.

  I told you Tate was no good, Dar mutters.

  “That’s why we decided it was time for a change of scenery,” Mr. Rodan says.

  Miranda manages a weak smile. “Well, I hear Abbacho is lovely this time of year.”

  They laugh, but even that can’t release the undercurrent of tension strung through the four of them like a bow.

  “We have your papers for you,” Miranda says, shuffling something on a table. “And just last week our friends at the network informed us that your residence is ready. Lady Aisling will not be able to find you easily.”

  Mr. Rodan sighs. “Yes, as long as the Abbachon nobles don’t ever sign that treaty.”

  My head reels with the implications. What is the network that they speak of? Was this missing Winthrop involved with the network too? Miranda said he was a flame breather, but surely he was too old for Lady Aisling. And he wasn’t a child in need of a cure.

  Dar winds her silky fingers through my hair. Don’t worry, Lady Aisling won’t get you. I promise you that. We’ll flee at the first sign of danger.

  “But what about Lucas and his family?” I whisper.

  Dar sighs. They can come too. If they must.

  Miranda picks up the empty glasses on the table and moves toward the kitchen—and the hallway where I hide. I suck my breath in sharply and flatten myself in the shadows in my corner. She passes within inches of me and doesn’t bat an eye. I don’t dare move. I have to pass by the kitchen doorway to get back to my room. When she returns to the sitting room a few minutes later without incident I finally breathe out again.

  That was too close. My estate was spacious and had many more corners to hide in, making eavesdropping easy. The cottage is much smaller and hiding is more of a challenge. I shouldn’t take a risk like this again.

  The adults change topics, something about trade and life in the woods. I tiptoe back to the guest room and slip inside. When my head hits the pillow, I set my shadows free and let troubled dreams wash over me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, I wake to find Cary’s cot empty. I dress quickly while Dar yawns at my feet, then hurry into the kitchen. After what I overheard last night, I don’t want to miss anything from these visitors, even if they are delaying our plans to perform Dar’s ritual.

  But when I get there, I notice that Lucas’s face is darker than usual today. In fact, he looks like he hasn’t slept at all. I catch the tail end of Miranda’s words to her son from the doorway.

  “…we all get them so
metimes, dear. But the good news is, nightmares aren’t real, and we don’t have to carry them with us in the light of day.” She ruffles his hair, but his face is still drawn.

  First Miranda, now Lucas? I can’t help thinking again of Lord Tate and what happened to him over one night. I don’t want to believe that Dar had a hand in this, but what exactly does she do while I sleep? I eye her warily, but my shadow gives no indication that anything is amiss.

  I slip into a chair at the table and it isn’t until I’ve reached for a roll that Doyle notices me.

  “When did you get up?” he says, narrowing his eyes.

  “A few minutes ago,” I say, slathering some butter on my breakfast.

  “Well, you sure are quiet,” he says.

  Lucas laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes today. “It’s her talent.” He glances at me uncertainly. “Do you mind telling them what it is? You don’t have to show them if you don’t want to.”

  My mouth goes dry. This shouldn’t be such a hurdle for me. But after Mother and Father treating it like an embarrassment and going so far as to try to send me away because of it, I can’t help but hesitate.

  I swallow hard. “I’m a shadow weaver.”

  Cary’s eyes light up. “Really? What can you do with shadows? They always seem to be stuck to walls and floors.”

  A smile creeps over my face. “Not for me.”

  “She can make stuff from them,” Lucas says.

  “You must show us!” Doyle says, accidentally spitting crumbs from the roll he is eating across the table.

  “Doyle, don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude.” Cary hands him a napkin and rolls her eyes. “Sorry, but it does sound intriguing. We’d love to see it, if you don’t mind sharing.”

  Dar sniffs at my feet. Show them, then I can play with the shadows for a while without anyone catching on. I long to have some fun. I never get to have fun anymore.

  The edge in her voice concerns me, but I put that aside for now.

  “All right, I’ll show you.” I pop the last bit of roll in my mouth, and before I can even swallow, Lucas grabs my hand and tugs me toward the front door. His energy seems to be coming back.

  “I have a great idea—let’s go outside, and we can show them how my light singing and your shadow weaving work together!” Lucas says.

  It is sunnier than I usually prefer when I play but being in the middle of the woods makes up for it. I call the shadows of the trees at the edge of the yard, pulling them closer with my hands, then weaving them into a giant ball. I let it dip close to the ground, and Dar slips in unnoticed. Then it spins and spins, puffing out more and more, faster and faster, until it surrounds all four of us. Inside the giant shadow ball, the sunlight is only a hazy memory over our heads. It seems as though night has set when the day has hardly begun.

  It’s lovely. I missed our outing last night more than I’d realized. Being surrounded by shadows is something I’ve grown accustomed to all these years, so being without or having fewer feels strange.

  Cary and Doyle gasp. “This is incredible!” Doyle says.

  “It’s better than your stupid wind,” his sister says.

  He scowls and shoves her in the arm, but she just smirks.

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling rather pleased with my work. It isn’t even the most remarkable thing I’ve crafted, but it’s large enough to impress these new friends.

  Dar cackles in my ear. His sister is right. His wind whistling is unimpressive next to your shadow weaving.

  At my side, Lucas begins to sing, the notes leaving his mouth as tiny specks of light. They swoop and soar through the darkness of the yard, teasing my hair and making me laugh. He sends them diving toward Doyle—who ducks—then settles them over our heads, like little stars.

  I clap along, caught up in the magic as much as the others. A light breeze wanders through the air, and I wonder if it’s Doyle, perhaps feeling a little left out.

  This, right here, this is peaceful. I feel free and happy and accepted by every person here. No one lies to my face or pretends to like me just to please my parents. They don’t even know who my parents are.

  They’re my friends.

  It fills me up inside with some strange, unnameable thing. I feel lighter than I ever have before, like I could take on anything or run a hundred miles. This is what it will be like when Dar is human again. She won’t be sullen and jealous anymore, and she’ll only add to this joy. And I’ll never have to let it go.

  • • •

  We play outside for most of the day, pausing only for lunch. It has been a few days since we last saw the guards, so the adults don’t object to us playing in the woods now. We wander down to a nearby pond where Lucas baits fish with his light, and Doyle swoops them out of the water with his wind. But by the time we return to the cottage, the sun is going down.

  Miranda calls to us as soon as she sees us. “We’re waiting for you to eat dinner. Come in, please!”

  “Just a few more minutes, Mum? I want to show them how I can make things grow at night,” Lucas asks his mother, but she shakes her head.

  “Dinner, Lucas. Now.”

  “Fine.” He scowls, unconsciously bending the light around him into daggers wherever he looks.

  “You won’t want to miss dinner with the Rodans. They’re only here for another day or two. Take advantage of it.”

  “They’re leaving so soon? But why?” Lucas asks. Doyle fidgets next to him.

  Miranda puts a hand on Lucas’s shoulder and leads him toward the house. “It’s the safest thing for them to do. For all of us. They can’t stay here for long. The night after tomorrow, they’ll be heading out again. We’ll just have to enjoy the time while they’re here.”

  Good riddance, Dar mutters, and my cheeks turn pink. For once I’m glad that I’m the only one who can hear Dar.

  “Are you going to start moving around a lot like we do?” Lucas asks Cary and Doyle.

  “Maybe,” Cary says, the expression on her face unreadable.

  “That’s too bad. I liked your house in Parilla,” Lucas says. He turns to his mother. “And I liked our last cottage in Abbacho better than this one too.”

  “I know, Lucas, but it’s more important that we be safe,” Miranda says.

  He kicks a loose pebble as we enter the house. I follow them like a shadow, the curiosity inside my chest turning my expression into a question. One that Lucas’s mother recognizes when she glances back at me.

  She sighs. “You’re wondering why we move around so much, aren’t you, Emmeline?”

  “It does seem a bit unusual,” I say. “And this is such a lovely cottage. It would be sad to leave it behind in a year or two.”

  “Not as sad as being discovered by Lady Aisling,” Lucas’s father says, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek. He sobers when he sees the expression on my face. “You don’t know about Lady Aisling, do you?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve heard the name, but that’s all.”

  Miranda’s face pales. “You must be careful. We assumed she was the reason you hid your talent. Come, we’ll explain over dinner.”

  They usher us toward the kitchen table, and Lucas helps his mother set the food out for us all to share. We join the Rodans and load up our plates, while I try not to burst with curiosity. I wish Dar was talking. She knows much more than I do about Zinnia and Lady Aisling, but she has gone into a silent sulk under the table. Maybe she wants to listen to what they have to say too.

  Lucas digs into his meal, but the adults push their food around their plates. Miranda finally puts her fork down.

  “Emmeline, do you know how people like you and Lucas obtained their magic?”

  I nod. “Yes, every twenty-five years the Cerelia Comet sails by, blessing a few pregnant mothers in its wake with children with magical abilities.”

 
“That’s right. Now you’ve heard of Zinnia, yes?”

  Heat slides down my spine. That is where Tate wanted to take me. “It’s the territory on the other side of Parilla.”

  “Indeed it is. But you really haven’t heard of Lady Aisling?”

  Dar rears up from the floor, and wraps around my knees. Don’t tell them about what happened to me yet. Let’s see how much they know first.

  My heart clenches at my shadow’s plea. “The name is familiar, but I don’t know much about who she is,” I say. Dar relaxes her grip on my knees.

  Lucas’s parents and the Rodans share a knowing frown. “Well, you should,” Alfred says. “She’s the leading noble of the territory, famous for the grand parties she throws in her Garden of Souls, but she’s dangerous for people like you, Lucas, and Doyle.”

  The image of Simone’s ghostly face flashes in front of my eyes and makes my hands tremble.

  Miranda downs half of her water glass in one gulp. “Lady Aisling collects talented children like yourselves. She and her emissaries scour the countryside for them, then trick their parents with promises of a cure.”

  My spine straightens, and I try not to show my reaction, but my hands twist in my skirts. This sounds all too familiar, and I fear my galloping heart will give me away.

  Lucas’s father scoffs. “There is no cure, of course. It is merely a ruse to convince the parents to send their children away to Zinnia.”

  My brow furrows. “But what is she doing with them?” I can almost feel the cold grazing of Simone’s eyes.

  “No one knows for certain, though there are many theories. Some believe she’s training them to be her personal army.”

  “Maybe she needs them to tend to her giant garden,” Doyle suggests through a mouthful of food.

  “I think Lady Aisling is stealing their magic somehow,” Cary says.

  Lucas swallows a huge bite of toast. “But who could do that? And how?”

  I shudder and stare at my plate. My appetite has all but vanished. Deep in my bones I know with utter certainty that is exactly what she is doing. Simone was so damaged… Something awful must have happened to her.