Shadow Weaver Series, Book 1 Page 9

  She opens the door to the cottage. “Come, show us what you can do, safely away from prying eyes.”

  I hesitate in the doorway. “You won’t make me go home?”

  She sighs. “No. Not yet anyway. And only if you decide that’s what you want to do.”

  A small sob escapes from my lips before I can hold it back. “Thank you,” I say.

  Perhaps they are not so bad after all, Dar whispers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After breakfast the next morning, we set out for the nearby village. Alfred and Miranda debated about whether to bring me along at first since the guards might still be on the lookout, but in the end they decided it was better to keep me close than leave me home alone. Plus, Miranda is determined to get me a dress that actually fits. The family runs a market stall in the village with fresh vegetables, thanks to Lucas’s talent.

  The villagers don’t know of this, of course, and I’ve been strictly instructed not to mention Lucas’s light singing or to reveal my shadow weaving while we’re there. Just to be safe, they said.

  I could not agree more, Dar whispers in my ear. Our best defense right now is to not attract attention.

  Once we reach the path, it is easy going, but at first we have to wind our way through grasping bushes and around tall, thick trees. Lucas and I run ahead, and every once in a while, he lets loose a burst of his light magic, much to the annoyance of his parents.

  “Lucas!” his mother hisses. “Stop showing off. We’ll arrive at the village soon.”

  Up ahead, the path turns, and when I reach the curve in the road, I see it. The village is surrounded by an apple orchard. Houses dot the outer edges, becoming larger and closer together as they near the village center. The houses on the outskirts have thatched roofs, but bright red and green tiles shine on the tops of the taller buildings farther in.

  Alfred and Miranda take us straight to the center of the town where the market is held. Waving banners of all colors adorn the stalls, and the many smells of food and spices and flowers blend together in a strangely beautiful cacophony.

  Imagine the games we could play in this crowd, Dar says with a hint of longing in her voice.

  “Mum says you have to go with her to the seamstress for some clothes, but let me show you Pa’s stall first,” Lucas says, grabbing my hand.

  He leads me over to where his father is setting up his stall, piling the vegetables he brought in his cart on the counter.

  “Lucas, don’t go running off today.” His father waggles his finger at him. “I need you here to help me.”

  Miranda puts her hands on my shoulders. “Come, Emmeline, let’s get you some new clothes.” She frowns. “Are you feeling all right today? You’re looking paler than usual this morning.”

  I shrug. “I feel fine. Just a little tired, I suppose.”

  Miranda puts a palm on my forehead, but soon straightens up, satisfied. “All right then, let’s get going.”

  Lucas waves as his mother leads me away. We pass by cart after cart of strange goods—antiques and food and jewels, even scrolls and books. Miranda greets a dizzying number of people, shaking hands and inquiring after their families along the way. Finally, she stops just past the market at a black brick building with flounces of fabric in the windows.

  My parents never took me to the village near them. They always had the seamstress come to us, and they made sure she only saw me and took my measurements in their sitting room once I had cleared it of any lingering shadow toys. Fear seizes me for a brief moment. What if this is the village closest to my parents’ estate? What if the seamstress recognizes me? I grip the doorway tightly, but when Miranda gives me a look, I relax.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she says.

  I paste a happy expression on my face. “Of course.”

  She seems very suspicious of you this morning, Dar says. Maybe you shouldn’t have told her about your talent after all.

  I swallow my retort to Dar. We’ll talk about this later. Instead, I take a deep breath and step inside the store, the door clanking closed behind me, punctuated by the sharp ring of a bell.

  My hands have gone slick, and I wipe them on my skirt. A woman I’ve never seen before pops out from the back room and smiles when she sees us.

  “Oh, Miranda, who is this pretty little one?”

  Lucas’s mother greets her warmly. “My niece. She’s come to stay with us for a little while, but I’m afraid her baggage ended up in the river on the journey here. All ruined. She needs a new dress.” Even as Miranda speaks, her keen dark eyes take in the store, always on alert. I wonder if it’s because she has begun to feel protective of me.

  See? Dar whispers. She lies too easily.

  I try not to bristle at Dar’s words. Was she always this suspicious of everyone we met and I just didn’t notice? Or has spending this time with Lucas and his family only thrown it into sharp relief?

  “Poor thing,” the seamstress says, patting me on the head. “That must have been frightful.”

  I clear my throat and clasp my hands before me. “Yes, it was ma’am.”

  “So polite too.” She takes my arm and leads me toward the back room. I can’t help staring at row upon row of bolts of cloth and spools of ribbon lining the walls in a rainbow of colors and shades. At first it seems lovely, then an unsettling feeling runs through me as I remember how Dar told me she died and became a lost soul. It was in a shop just like this. For a moment, I tense, worried this place will trouble her, but she does not say a thing about it, though she is huddled quite close to my feet.

  I’m told to stand on a raised platform while the seamstress pokes, prods, and bends my arms and legs into odd angles to ensure she gets the right measurements. All the while Dar grumbles in my ears about how much she wishes to go outside and play with the shadows instead of mimicking my bizarre motions.

  I wish we could make something from the shadows hidden in the nooks and crannies here. There are so many that no one would notice.

  A slight shake of my head is all I can give in answer. Hiding is what we must do at all costs. Though I can’t help thinking it seems odd that Dar wants to play in a place that ought to conjure up horrific memories for her.

  When the seamstress is finally done, it is time to pick the colors. She holds up a pale pink cotton, and I unconsciously wrinkle my nose. Miranda shakes her head immediately.

  “No, I don’t think so. What do you say, Emmeline?”

  “I’m grateful for this; any color will do.” I don’t quite feel right being choosy when I am at the mercy of their kindness.

  “But do you like this one?”

  “It is probably not what I would choose for myself.”

  Miranda laughs. “You are too sweet for your own good. I could see you in this green here”—she plucks the edge of a roll of fabric—“or this blue.” She taps another. I run my hands over each of them, smiling. The green is deep, the color of emeralds, and the blue reminds me of the sky at midnight. Nearby is a deep purple, and I pull that down too. It is the color of twilight.

  “That settles it, then. Purple.”

  “Very good,” the seamstress says. “It’ll be ready in two days.”

  As we leave, a tightness constricts around my lungs, until it almost hurts to breathe. “I cannot thank you enough,” I say to Miranda. “This is terribly generous of you.”

  “It just wouldn’t do to have you wearing ill-fitting dresses while you’re here. I’m sure that one isn’t comfortable at all. And we’re happy to help you.” She pulls out a ribbon she bought from the shop. “Hold on for a moment.” She pulls my dark hair back, her hands running through it in a way that reminds me of Dar. Then she ties it back with the purple ribbon. “There we are. Perfect.”

  Miranda, like her son Lucas, is so warm that it seems to be a natural thing for her to do. Perhaps this is why Lucas
has lightcraft. The magic of the Cerelia Comet transformed his mother’s warmth into a talent for her son.

  When we enter the market again, a hush has settled over the crowd and vendors. Like they wait for something ominous to happen. Miranda notices it too, and frowns.

  “Stay close, Emmeline,” is all she says.

  We thread through the throng of people in a hurry to reach the vegetable stall. Miranda pushes me behind the stall just as the hush falls over our section.

  Soldiers. I spy their green cloaks first. Fear freezes me in place, until Lucas pulls me behind his father and down into their cart.

  “We have to hide in here,” he whispers, pulling a blanket over the top of the cart. “Just to be safe.”

  I don’t object, but fear lingers on my skin, turning it cold and hot and cold again.

  Strange, that Lucas needs to hide too even though they now know the guards are after you, Dar muses.

  I agree it is odd, but this is hardly the time to ask. All I know is that this family fears something or someone terribly.

  What could they be hiding? Maybe we should check the study one more time tonight…

  I shudder. Invading their privacy like that again is not a thing I wish to do.

  I don’t know how much time passes. But between the heat and the wait, Lucas and I doze, curled up together in the bottom of the cart. When the blanket is finally pulled back, light assails my eyes, disorienting me, but Lucas has no such trouble.

  Miranda stands over the cart with a grim expression on her face. “They’re gone. We’re going home. Stay where you are. Just in case.”

  The blanket falls back over us and soon the cart begins to move. The background chatter of the marketplace fades, and soon the clatter and bump of the wheels on the path greet us.

  We’re on our way back to the cottage and safety. Yesterday, I assumed Miranda and Alfred hid Lucas because they were being overly cautious around strangers. But the soldiers were seeking me. This time it was clear that Lucas’s family is desperate to hide him from the soldiers, too. Somehow, the soldiers are a threat to them. Dar’s voice echoes in my ear: What could they be hiding?

  Chapter Fourteen

  That evening when dusk descends, my shadows flock to me as though they have missed me. I have certainly missed them. I don’t yet dare play with them as freely as I did at home, even though I’ve told Lucas and his family about my shadowcraft. But tonight I linger outside even after Lucas has run indoors to set the table. The sky above is clear and bright with stars, and the fireflies beckon to me from between the trees. It energizes me in a way sleep no longer seems to.

  Other creatures prowl the woods too. A few keens and howls break the evening calm. I shiver, but Dar wraps around my shoulders.

  They won’t hurt you. All you have to do is hide in your shadows with me and you’ll be safe.

  She’s right. But I can’t yet. Miranda quickly discovered I am useless at helping with dinner, and she has been having me wash dishes instead. It’s the least I can do.

  My eyes grow hot, and Dar purrs in my ear. We’ll do something nice for them in return once you’ve performed the ritual. We can thank them together.

  Warmth pours through my limbs. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

  Now that we’re alone and Dar seems to be in a better mood, I dare to ask the question that has been troubling me all day. “Dar, did the dressmaker’s shop upset you at all? I was worried while we were there this afternoon.”

  A long pause follows, so long that I look down just to be sure Dar did not run off to the woods without me.

  It did, she says finally. But I did not wish you to worry. I could tell you were excited to get the new dress with Miranda, and I didn’t want to bother you with it.

  I frown. I’m usually so in tune with Dar’s emotions, and she truly seemed to be her normal self at the shop. And interrupting me with Miranda has never stopped her before.

  Could…could Dar be lying to me?

  “Dar, what about—”

  The cottage door swings open, and Miranda stands there with an odd expression on her face. “Who are you talking to, Emmeline?”

  My stomach flips. “No one.” I shrug. “I was just playing with a shadow or two.”

  “Well, you should come in now. It isn’t safe to stay outside after dark.”

  If only she understood that it is the safest place for me. Where the darkness is mine to command. It’s where I feel most at home. I stamp down my doubts about Dar and the dressmaker’s shop and glide into the cottage, my shadows trailing after me. I leave them at the door with a promise to return later. After all, Dar and I have a ritual to perform and items we must collect.

  • • •

  Later that night, I crawl from my bed and Dar coils around me, hiding my body from view. I lace up my boots and step into the hall. To my surprise, voices echo back to me, hushed whispers coming from the study.

  My ears perk and Dar fizzes with curiosity too. I don’t need to say a word to know what she wants to do. I confess, so do I. It has been ages since we played my favorite game: eavesdropping. Miranda and Alfred have been warm and welcoming, but Dar has brought up so many suspicions that I can’t help feeling disconnected from them still. I wish to know them better.

  With my shadows gathered around me, I tiptoe toward the study and find a corner not far from the door to hide in. They won’t see me here even if they leave the room, but I can hear them perfectly.

  “Don’t you see it’s gotten worse?” Miranda says and something thumps on the table, but I cannot see what. “Now even Old Winthrop has vanished. I didn’t think anyone could get past his talent but someone did. And you know exactly who it was.”

  Gooseflesh breaks out on my arms, and I pull Dar and my shadows closer. I can hear the steps of someone pacing the room, but I can’t tell which of them it is.

  Curious, Dar says. Maybe life isn’t as simple here as you believed.

  Part of me bristles at Dar’s suggestion that they are up to something sinister, but the rest of me frets.

  “Maybe what the villagers are saying is true; maybe he did just retire to another part of the country, one that is sunnier and easier on his old bones.”

  “Winthrop was important. Alfred, he’s a flame breather. Even at his age, he is not one to be trifled with or taken easily.”

  “All the more reason to believe he wasn’t taken at all.”

  Miranda sighs. “I wish that you were right. But he was the last of those blessed by the comet fifty or more years ago. There’s a pattern here. And it scares me. Our plans depended on him.”

  I back farther into my shadowed corner and wrap my arms around my middle. Dar billows, curiosity getting the better of her.

  They are silent for a moment, and while I can’t see, I imagine Alfred kisses his wife lightly on the forehead and that she has her arms crossed over her chest. It’s a gesture I’ve seen between them before.

  But this time it is not something trivial like running out of carrots for dinner. Someone they know is missing. Someone at the center of some plan they have.

  Someone with a fearsome talent. A bead of sweat trickles down my spine, making me shiver.

  I told you they’re up to something, Dar says, smug satisfaction coloring her tone.

  “It doesn’t mean it’s anything bad,” I hiss back. We know only a little about Alfred and Miranda and of course they have lives and plans outside of that. But still, Miranda’s mention of many people missing is a thing that sticks to the inside of my brain, never letting go.

  If talented people have been going missing, that could be why they hide Lucas from any strangers. But I can’t help wondering if this might be connected with Tate and Lady Aisling and their promised cure for talents. I shudder. I would hate to see Lucas’s lovely talent disappear almost as much as my own.

 
Moments later they leave the study, arms interlocked, like they’re holding each other up. They head toward their room, and I wait until the door closes softly behind them, then wait a few minutes more for good measure.

  We slip out of the cottage into the woods, away from their troubling, mysterious words and ever closer to our goal.

  It feels like coming home. The shadows pour forth from the trees at a mere hint of my shadowcraft, like they can sniff me out. Thin shadows of saplings wind around my arms like ribbons, and tiny ones from Miranda’s flower garden curl into my hair.

  My shadows, my friends, my playmates. These are what my parents wanted to take from me. They are why I had to run away. Something swells in my chest and chokes in my throat.

  I cannot bear to give them up.

  We have a ways to go tonight, Dar says. We need to pick an apple.

  “An apple?” I say, almost laughing. Then I remember the orchard outside the local village. “But we can’t just take an apple from the orchard. It isn’t ours. The villagers sell them in their market.”

  Unfortunately, this ritual requires the apple to be stolen.

  “What sort of ritual would require that?”

  Dar sighs and flattens on the ground. Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. If you don’t want to do the ritual…

  “No! No, of course I do. I want you to be free and whole again.” I pull her shape up so she can walk beside me. I can’t wait until she can do that on her own two feet.

  Are you sure?

  “Yes, there is nothing I want more. Let’s find that orchard.”

  The village is to the east, and we head in that direction, guided by the moon and stars.

  “How did you find out about this ritual, Dar?” I ask.

  I have been waiting for a shadow weaver like you for a very long time, is the only answer she gives.