A Gathering of Shadows

  “Fine,” grumbled Kell, turning back up the stairs. “I’ll do it.”

  Tolners and Vis were standing outside Rhy’s room. Kell was a few strides shy of the chamber when the doors burst open and a figure came striding out. A figure that most certainly wasn’t Rhy. The guards’ eyes widened at the sight of him. The man obviously hadn’t gone in that way. Kell pulled up short as they nearly collided, and even though it had been years—too few, in Kell’s estimation—he recognized the man at once.

  “Alucard Emery,” he said coldly, exhaling the name like a curse.

  A slow smile spread across the man’s mouth, and it took all Kell’s restraint not to physically remove it. “Master Kell,” said Alucard, cheerfully. “What an unexpected pleasure, running into you here.” His voice had a natural undercurrent of laughter in it, and Kell could never tell if he was being mocked.

  “I don’t see how it’s unexpected,” said Kell, “as I live here. What is unexpected is running into you, since I thought I made myself quite clear the last time we met.”

  “Quite,” echoed Alucard.

  “Then what were you doing in my brother’s chambers?”

  Alucard raised a single studded brow. “Do you want a detailed account? Or will a summary suffice?”

  Kell’s fingernails dug into his palms. He could feel blood. Spells came to mind, a dozen different ways to wipe the smug look from Emery’s face.

  “Why are you here?” he growled.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard,” said Alucard, hands in his pockets. “I’m competing in the Essen Tasch. As such, I was invited to the royal palace for the Banner Night.”

  “Which is happening downstairs, not in the prince’s room. Are you lost?” He didn’t wait for Alucard to answer. “Tolners,” he snapped. The guard stepped forward. “Escort Master Emery to the Rose Hall. Make sure he doesn’t wander.”

  Tolners motioned, as if to take hold of Alucard’s sleeve, and found himself propelled suddenly backward into the wall. Alucard never took his hands from his pockets, and his smile never wavered as he said, “I’m sure I can find my way.”

  He set off in the direction of the stairs, but as he passed Kell, the latter caught his elbow. “Do you remember what I told you, before banishing you from this city?”

  “Vaguely. Your threats all seem to run together.”

  “I said,” snarled Kell through clenched teeth, “that if you break my brother’s heart a second time, I will cut yours out. I stand by that promise, Alucard.”

  “Still fond of growling, aren’t you, Kell? Ever the loyal dog, nipping at heels. Maybe one day you’ll actually bite.” With that he pulled free and strode away, his silver blue cloak billowing behind him.

  Kell watched him go.

  The moment Alucard was out of sight, he slammed his fist into the wall, hard enough to crack the inlaid wooden panel. He swore in pain and frustration, and an echoing curse came from within Rhy’s chambers, but this time, Kell didn’t feel bad for causing his brother a little pain. Blood stained his palm where his nails had sliced into the skin, and Kell pressed it to the broken decoration.

  “As Sora,” he muttered. Unbreak.

  The crack in the wood began to withdraw, the pieces of wood blending back together. He kept his hand there, trying to loosen the knot in his chest.

  “Master Kell …” started Vis.

  “What?” he snapped, spinning on the guards. The air in the hall churned around him. The floorboards trembled. The men looked pale. “If you see that man near Rhy’s rooms again, arrest him.”

  Kell took a steadying breath, and was reaching for the prince’s door when it swung inward to reveal Rhy, settling the gold band atop his head. When he saw the gathering of guards, and Kell at their center, he cocked his head.

  “What?” he said. “I’m not that late.” Before anyone else could speak, Rhy set off down the hall. “Don’t just stand there, Kell,” he called back. “We have a party to host.”

  * * *

  “You’re in a mood,” said the prince as they passed into the dignified splendor of the Rose Hall.

  Kell said nothing, trying to salvage the man he’d seen earlier in his bedroom mirror. He scanned the hall, his attention snagging almost instantly on Alucard Emery, who stood socializing with a group of magicians.

  “Honestly, Kell,” chided Rhy, “if looks could kill.”

  “Maybe looks can’t,” he said, flexing his fingers.

  Rhy smiled and nodded his head at a cluster of guests. “You knew he was coming,” he said through set teeth.

  “I didn’t realize you’d be giving him such an intimate welcome,” snapped Kell in return. “How could you be so foolish—”

  “I didn’t invite him in—”

  “—after everything that’s happened.”

  “Enough,” hissed the prince, loud enough to turn the nearest heads.

  Kell would have shrunk from the attention, but Rhy spread his arms, embracing it.

  “Father,” he called across the hall, “if I may do the honors.”

  King Maxim lifted his glass in reply, and Rhy stepped lithely up onto the nearest stone planter, and the gathering fell quiet.

  “Avan!” he said, voice echoing through the hall. “Glad’ach. Sasors,” he added to the guests from Vesk and Faro. “I am Prince Rhy Maresh,” he continued, slipping back into Arnesian. “Maxim and Emira, the illustrious king and queen of Ames, my father and mother, have given me the honor of hosting this tournament. And it is an honor.” He lifted a hand, and a wave of royal servants appeared, carrying trays laden with crystal goblets, candied fruits, smoked meat, and a dozen other delicacies. “Tomorrow you shall be introduced as champions. Tonight, I ask you to enjoy yourselves as honored guests and friends. Drink, feast, and claim your sigil. In the morning, the Games begin!”

  Rhy bowed, and the crowd of gathered magicians and royals applauded as he hopped down from his perch. The tide of people shifted, some toward the banquets, others toward the banner tables.

  “Impressive,” observed Kell.

  “Come on,” said Rhy without meeting his eye. “One of us needs a drink.”

  * * *

  “Stop.”

  Lila had just started up the palace steps, the demon’s mask beneath her arm, when she heard the order.

  She stiffened, her fingers reaching reflexively for the knife at her back as a pair of guards in gleaming armor blocked her path. Her pulse pounded, urging her to fight or flee, but Lila forced herself to hold her ground. They weren’t drawing weapons.

  “I’m here for the Banner Night,” she said, drawing Elsor’s royal verification from her coat. “I was told to report to the palace.”

  “You want the Rose Hall,” explained the first guard, as if Lila had a damn clue where that was. The other guard pointed at a second, smaller set of stairs. Lila had never noticed the other entrances to the palace—there were two, flanking the main steps, and both were tame by comparison—but now that they’d been pointed out, the flow of traffic up and around those steps compared to the empty grand entrance was obvious. As was the fact that the doors to the Rose Hall had been flung open, while the palace’s main entrance was firmly shut.

  “Solase,” she said, shaking her head. “I must be more nervous than I thought.” The guards smiled.

  “I will lead you,” said one, as if she might honestly go astray a second time. The guard ushered her over to right set of stairs and up before handing her off to an attendant, who led her through the entryway and into the Rose Hall.

  It was an impressive space, less ballroom than throne room, undoubtedly refined without being ostentatious—how far she’d come, she thought wryly, to find massive urns of fresh-cut flowers and sumptuous red and gold tapestries restrained.

  A familiar captain stood near the mouth of the hall, dressed in silver and midnight blue. He saw Lila, and his face passed through several reactions before settling on cool appraisal.

  “Master Elsor.”

  “Ma
ster Emery.” Lila gave a flourish and a bow, stiffening her posture into angles.

  Alucard shook his head. “I honestly don’t know whether to be impressed or unnerved.”

  Lila straightened. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

  He nodded at the Sarows mask under her arm. “Do you want to be found out?”

  Lila shrugged. “There are many shadows in the night.” She caught sight of the mask tucked beneath his own arm. Made of dark blue scales, their edges tipped with silver, the mask ran from hairline to cheekbone. Once on, it would leave his charmer’s smile exposed, and do nothing to tame the crown of brassy curls that rose above. The mask itself looked purely aesthetic, its scales offering neither anonymity nor protection.

  “What are you supposed to be?” she asked in Arnesian. “A fish?”

  Alucard made a noise of mock affront. “Obviously,” he said, brandishing the helmet, “I’m a dragon.”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be a fish?” challenged Lila. “After all, you do live on the sea, and you are rather slippery, and—”

  “I’m a dragon,” he interjected. “You’re just not being very imaginative.”

  Lila grinned, partly in amusement, and partly in relief as they fell into a familiar banter. “I thought House Emery’s sigil was a feather. Shouldn’t you be a bird?”

  Alucard rapped his fingers on the mask. “My family is full of birds,” he said, the words laced with spite. “My father was a vulture. My mother was a magpie. My oldest brother is a crow. My sister, a sparrow. I have never really been a bird.”

  Lila resisted the urge to say he might have been a peacock. It didn’t seem the time.

  “But our house symbol,” he went on, “it represents flight, and birds are not the only things that fly.” He held up the dragon mask. “Besides, I am not competing for House Emery. I am competing for myself. And if you could see the rest of my outfit, you wouldn’t—”

  “Do you have wings? Or a tail?”

  “Well, no, those would get in the way. But I do have more scales.”

  “So does a fish.”

  “Go away,” he snapped, but there was humor in his voice, and soon they fell into an easy laugh, and then remembered where they were. Who they were.

  “Emery!” called Jinnar, appearing at the captain’s elbow.

  His mask—a silver crown that curled like spun sugar, or perhaps a swirl of air—hung from his fingertips. His feet were firmly on the floor tonight, but she could practically feel the hum of energy coming off him, see it blur his edges. Like a hummingbird. How would she fight a hummingbird? How would she fight any of them?

  “And who’s this?” asked Jinnar, glancing at Lila.

  “Why, Jinnar,” said Alucard drolly, “don’t you recognize our Master Elsor?”

  The magician’s silver eyes narrowed. Lila raised a challenging brow. Jinnar had met the real Stasion Elsor back in the tavern. Now his metallic eyes swept over her, confused, and then suspicious. Lila’s fingers twitched, and Alucard’s hand came to rest on her shoulder—whether it was to show solidarity or keep her from drawing a weapon, she didn’t know.

  “Master Elsor,” said Jinnar slowly. “You look different tonight. But then again,” he added, eyes flicking to Alucard, “the light was so low in the tavern, and I haven’t seen you since.”

  “An easy mistake to make,” said Lila smoothly. “I’m not overly fond of displays.”

  “Well,” chimed in Alucard brightly. “I do hope you’ll overcome that once we take the stage.”

  “I’m sure I’ll find my stride,” retorted Lila.

  “I’m sure you will.”

  A beat of silence hung between them, remarkable considering the din of the gathering crowd. “Well, if you’ll excuse me,” said Alucard, breaking the moment, “I’ve yet to properly harass Brost, and I’m determined to meet this Kamerov fellow …”

  “It was nice to meet you … again,” said Jinnar, before following Alucard away.

  Lila watched them go, then began to weave through the crowd, trying to keep her features set in resignation, as if mingling with dozens of imperial magicians was commonplace. Along one wall, tables were laden with swatches of fabric and pitchers of ink, and magicians turned through pages of designs as they declared their banners—a crow on green, a flame on white, a rose on black—pennants that would wave from the stands the following day.

  Lila plucked a crystal goblet from a servant’s tray, weighing it in her fingers before remembering she wasn’t here as a thief. She caught Alucard’s eye, and toasted him with a wink. As she lapped the hall, taking in the main floor and the gallery above and sipping sweet wine, she counted the bodies to occupy her mind and keep her composure.

  Thirty-six magicians, herself included, twelve from each of the three empires, and all marked by a mask on top of their head or under their arm or slung over their shoulder.

  Two dozen servants, give or take (it was hard to tell, dressed alike as they were, and always moving).

  Twelve guards.

  Fifteen ostra, judging by their haughty expressions.

  Six vestra, going by their royal pins.

  Two blond Veskans wearing crowns instead of masks, each with an entourage of six, and a tall Faroan with an expressionless face and an entourage of eight.

  The Arnesian king and queen in splendid red and gold.

  Prince Rhy in the gallery above.

  And, standing beside him, Kell.

  Lila held her breath. For once, Kell’s auburn hair was swept back from his face, revealing both the crisp blue of his left eye and the glossy black of his right. He wasn’t wearing his usual coat, in any of its forms. Instead he was dressed head to toe in elegant black, a gold pin over his heart.

  Kell had told her once that he felt more like possession than a prince, but standing at Rhy’s side, one hand around his glass and the other on the rail as he gazed down on the crowd, he looked like he belonged.

  The prince said something, and Kell’s face lit up in a silent laugh.

  Where was the bloodied boy who’d collapsed on her bedroom floor?

  Where was the tortured magician, veins turning black as he fought a talisman’s pull?

  Where was the sad, lonely royal who’d stood on the docks and watched her walk away?

  That last one she could almost see. There, at the edge of his mouth, the corner of his eye.

  Lila felt her body moving toward him, drawn as if by gravity, several steps lost before she caught herself. She wasn’t Lila Bard tonight. She was Stasion Elsor, and while the illusion seemed to be holding well enough, she knew it would crumble in front of Kell. And in spite of that, part of her still wanted to catch his eye, relish his moment of surprise, watch it dissolve into recognition, and—hopefully—welcome. But she couldn’t imagine he’d be glad to see her, not here, mingling with the throngs of competitors. And in truth, Lila savored the sensation of watching without being watched. It made her feel like a predator, and in a room of magicians, that was something.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” came a voice behind her in accented English.

  She turned to find a young man, tall and slender, with reddish brown hair and dark lashes circling grey eyes. He had a silver-white mask tucked beneath his arm, and he shifted it to his other side before extending a gloved hand.

  “Kamerov,” he said genially. “Kamerov Loste.”

  So this was the elusive magician, the one neither Jinnar nor Alucard had managed to find. She didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

  “Stasion Elsor,” she answered.

  “Well, Master Elsor,” he said with a confident smile, “perhaps we will meet in the arena.”

  She raised a brow and began to move away.

  “Perhaps.”

  III

  “I took the liberty of designing your pennant,” said Rhy, resting his elbows on the gallery’s marble banister. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Kell cringed. “Do I even want to know wh
at’s on it?”

  Rhy tugged the folded piece of fabric from his pocket, and handed it over. The cloth was red, and when he unfolded it, he saw the image of a rose in black and white. The rose had been mirrored, folded along the center axis and reflected, so the design was actually two flowers, surrounded by a coil of thorns.

  “How subtle,” said Kell tonelessly.

  “You could at least pretend to be grateful.”

  “And you couldn’t have picked something a little more … I don’t know … imposing? A serpent? A great beast? A bird of prey?”

  “A bloody handprint?” retorted Rhy. “Oh, what about a glowing black eye?”

  Kell glowered.

  “You’re right,” continued Rhy, “I should have just drawn a frowning face. But then everyone would know it’s you. I thought this was rather fitting.”

  Kell muttered something unkind as he shoved the banner into his pocket.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Kell surveyed the Rose Hall. “You think anyone will notice that I’m—well, that Kamerov Loste is missing from the festivities?”

  Rhy took a sip of his drink. “I doubt it,” he said. “But just in case …”

  He nodded the drink at a lean figure moving through the crowd. Kell was halfway through a sip of wine when he saw the man, and nearly choked on it. The figure was tall and slim, with trimmed auburn hair. He was dressed in elegant black trousers and a silver high-collared tunic, but it was the mask tucked under his arm that caught Kell’s eye.

  A single piece of sculpted silver-white metal, polished to a high shine.

  His mask. Or rather, Kamerov’s.

  “Who on earth is that?”

  “That, my dear brother, is Kamerov Loste. At least for tonight.”

  “Dammit, Rhy, the more people you tell about this plan, the more likely it is to fail.”

  The prince waved a hand. “I’ve paid our actor handsomely to play the part tonight, and as far as he’s concerned it’s because the real Kamerov doesn’t care for public displays. This is the only event where all thirty-six competitors are expected to show their faces, Kamerov included. Besides, Castars is discreet.”