Counting Shadows (Duplicity) (14 page)

“I’m not exactly sure,” I reply honestly. “I don’t know many details. But he appeared one day in my father’s court, and I overheard him talking to Father. All I heard at the time was Ashe’s killer…
Asair
telling Father that someone was traitorous. I didn’t think much about it until Ashe was taken away. After that, I found out that Asair had claimed Ashe had plans to kill me in my sleep. And he had a document that Father seemed to think proved this.” I grit my teeth. “If Asair wanted Ashe’s death, it worked. He was given an unfair trial and killed just hours after he was arrested.”

Lor winces and looks away. His hand slowly balls into a fist until it begins to shake. I consider leaving the room for safety, but then Lor lets out a long breath and shakes his head. “It wasn’t fair,” he murmurs. “Jay never did anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry.” I give him a minute longer to calm down, and then say, “I need to know where I can find Asair.”

Lor clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “Why?”

“I need to kill him.”

Lor laughs, and his lip lifts into a sneer. “Kill him? Kill
Asair
? No, you can’t do that. Believe me, he’s invincible. It’s part of the reason I’m here and not back at my home waiting to inherit my throne.”

“What’s the other reason?”

Lor’s shoulders arch like an offended cat. “I’m not going to talk about that,” he mutters.

I open my mouth to protest, but then Lor smacks a finger against the book, pointing to a passage.

“Here,” he says. “This is what I’ve been looking for.” He draws an invisible circle with his finger around a paragraph, and then shoves the book toward me. “Read it.”

I snatch the book from Lor’s hands and eagerly scan the pages. They’re yellowed with age, and the ink is faded is some places, but it’s still readable.

Lor makes that half growl, half hum noise. “A little eager, are we?”

“I’ve waited years to find out about Ashe,” I say. “If there’s answers in this book, I want them. Now.”

Lor taps the passage again. “Then read here.”

I peer down at the page. It takes me a moment to adjust to the ornate handwriting; it’s flowing, decorative script, and very different from the simplistic writing that fills most of my books.

‘The Angel people have passed down a legend throughout the centuries,’
the book reads.
‘The legend is called Sil Te-Fa. In our language, this title loosely translates to The Final Prophecy. The legend is said to predict the Angel people’s rise to greatness above all other species.’

I peer over the edge of the book to give Lor a skeptical look. He rolls his eyes.

“I know it sounds crazy,” he says. “But just keep reading.”

“You just spent all that time trying to find this? A passage about some ancient fable?”

“If I’d just told it to you, you wouldn’t have had any reason to believe me,” he says. “So just read it.”

I sigh and return my gaze to the aging paper.
‘The origins of the legend are unsure, but it is believed to be over a thousand years old. Many believe it is older than this. Because of its age, most of the legend has been lost throughout the years. But small portions of it have been passed down by mouth.’

I snap the book closed. “Lor, I have no interest in your people’s bedtime tales. This is ridiculous. Our time would be better spent discussing Asair.”

He takes the book from me and opens it back up to the right page. Then he hands it back to me. “If you want to know more about Asair, then read this.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. But I straighten my shoulders, and then turn my attention to the book.

‘The legend of Sil Te-Fa tells of twin boys who were born with ink already tattooed into their skin, in the form of fire. It is said that the first-born twin was imbued with great magical strength. The second-born was imbued with magical wisdom and intelligence, and he was the adviser to the first-born. The twins were destined to conquer all the lands of their continent.

‘However, the human people wished to protect themselves from the Angels. Through sorcery, they created a powerful force to stop the twins. While it is believed this force once had a true name, it has been lost throughout the generations. She is now called the the Unknown.

‘The twins and the Unknown fought a great battle, which ended in the twins death. However, before the first-born twin died, he managed to cast a spell that would continue to bring him and his twin back to life until they succeeded in conquering the lands.

‘Fearing the return of the Angel twins, the humans cast the Angels off their continent, banishing them to a foreign land across the sea. It is said that throughout the centuries, nine sets of twins have been born to Angels with the signature flame tattoos. Each set have been murdered, supposedly by the spirit of the Unknown, which continues to live on.’

I slowly close the book. The worn leather of the book’s spine crackles, and it’s the only noise in the room. I say nothing. Lor says nothing. We just think.

Then I break the silence. “You lied. This explains nothing about Asair.”

Lor chuckles and takes the book from me. “You’re more concerned about a lie than you are about my insinuation that I’m a figure from an ancient prophecy?”

“I’ve already told you. I don’t like lies.”

Lor opens the book back to the passage about the legend and absently trails his finger across the ornate writing. “It wasn’t a lie. This explains everything about Asair.” He taps the passage and looks to me, that smirk of his settling on his lips. It’s the smirk of someone happily withholding information, and my hand itches to slap him.

But I won’t slap a wounded man, especially not one who can cut off all my access and information to Asair. I shiver as I think of his name. It doesn’t feel right, and I don’t think it ever will. To me, Ashe’s killer has always been a nameless monster, a being so low that he doesn’t even deserve a name.

“Tell me what it explains about Asair,” I demand.

“It explains him. His desires, his faults, his angers.” Lor closes the book and clears his throat. Then he takes a deep breath. “Asair was born with the name Kellden. He went by Kell, and his twin brother was Den. They were born to the reining Angel King, and each had the tattoo of the flames.”

I slowly shake my head. “But I thought…” I trail off, because I’m not sure what I thought. I’m not sure about
any
of this.

“You thought Jay and I were the twins from the legend,” Lor says.

I nod.

“We are,” Lor says. “But Kell and Den were, too. They were the first to be born with the tattoos in three centuries. People were shocked, or maybe frightened is a better word. They’d been telling this legend for centuries, but it was just that. A legend. And now it was coming to life right in front of them.”

“How did they know the tattoo wasn’t fake?” I ask.

“They didn’t, at first. So the people demanded a test. They burned away a small circle of skin on the twins’ shoulders. Both the skin and the tattoo grew back instantly.”

I frown, remembering the branded circle close to the collarbone of Ashe’s killer.

“After the people saw the twins’ tattoo grow back right in front of their eyes, they believed he and Den were the twins from the prophecy. People honored and practically worshiped them. Everyone believed that Kell and Den were going to lead the Angels to greatness when they grew older.”

“But they didn’t.”

Lor shakes his head. “Kell and Den were raised like kings. Not like princes, but like kings. Even at a young age, they were granted privileges within the highest courts. And it didn’t work well. They didn’t have to work for any of their powers, and they—or at least Kell—took them for granted.

“Soon after my brothers turned seventeen, the Angels faced a threat from a neighboring kingdom. The courts’ plan was to just ignore it; the enemy kingdom was small, and they wouldn’t actually attack us. It was nothing but a bluff.

“But Kell didn’t see it that way. So he took part of the Angel army and led a charge against the neighboring kingdom. Den went with him. He didn’t think it was a good idea, but he’d sworn to never abandon Kell. My other brother, Jem, went to try to keep the twins safe.”

Lor pauses and looks down. He trails a finger over the writing on the cover of the book, absently tracing the curves of the letters. I hold my breath, worried I’ll interrupt his thoughts if I make the slightest sound.

“They never returned,” Lor says. “Well, Kell did. He was stripped of his title, his name, and his right to the throne. But Den and Jem died, along with most of the army. The neighboring country was stronger than the courts thought.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”

It’s the second time I’ve apologized to him today, but this time I don’t know if the apology is sincere or not. I don’t want it to be; I want Lor to feel that kind of pain. The pain of having loved ones torn away, of having them disposed of like they were nothing but an obstacle, or nothing but a threat. Like they were nothing but… nothing. Maybe if Lor feels that pain, then I won’t be the only one who has to bear it.

But part of me knows I mean it when I apologize to Lor. Because no one should have to feel that kind of pain. Ever.

Lor nods, acknowledging my words. “Kell changed his name to Asair after he was disgraced. Soon after he came back home, his tattoo disappeared. It was just gone one morning when he woke up. Part of the legend that’s not in here—” He taps the book. “—is that no traitor will ever bear the flame tattoo. Asair tried to hide that his tattoo had disappeared, but…” Lor gestures to his shoulder, where part of the tattoo is. “Things like this are hard to hide.

“Almost immediately after his tattoo disappeared, Asair did, too. Apparently, he couldn’t handle all the disgust people held for him. No one really knew where he went, but most agreed that he came to this continent. And, apparently, they were right.”

I take a moment to mull over this new information. The man who had killed Ashe hadn’t even been a man of power; he’d practically been an outcast. One who must have held a lot of spite for people who
did
hold power.

“So what about you?” I ask. “You also have the tattoo.”

Lor nods. “Two years after Asair left, when he would have been nineteen, Jay and I were born. We had the tattoos, so our birth also fulfilled the prophecy. I was the older twin—the one who was supposed to be the strongest—and Jay was the younger one.

“But people were more cautious about us. They’d had their hopes broken by Asair, and they weren’t willing for that to happen again. So they celebrated us, but they also watched us. Very closely.”

“That must have been torture,” I say. “I can’t imagine having an entire country monitoring your growth.”

Lor raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t your country do the same for you?”

I shake my head. “No. They gossip about me, and they spread rumors, but they never watch me. Father doesn’t let them close.”

He grunts. “Then you’re lucky. Because, you’re right, it was torture. Jay handled it gracefully, but I… Well, I acted out. I hated being under constant scrutiny. I just couldn’t take it. Jay was the only reason I didn’t go insane.”

I brush a strand of hair out of my eyes, wanting to see Lor clearly. This next question is one I’m both afraid and desperate to ask, and I need to monitor his expression. If he lies, then I could be in big trouble. Well, I guess
bigger
trouble.

“What are the twins’ powers, Lor?” I ask. “What makes you so…
special
?” I choose my words carefully, not using the other words that come to mind: Dangerous. Deadly. Cataclysmic.

He pauses again, and returns to outlining the book’s title. I watch his fingers as they trace up and down the letters. He has delicate hands, with long fingers and very few creases on his palm. His hands are another trait he shared with Ashe.

“I’m not sure,” he finally replies, and the despair in his voice convinces me he’s telling the truth. “Part of the prophecy not in this book is that our powers become apparent at the age of twenty. I’m not that old yet, and my brothers never reached that age before their powers were taken away.”

“So you have no idea what your powers are?”

“No, not the slightest clue. That’s another part of the prophecy that’s been lost.”

I nibble at my lip, considering him and his sorrowful expression. “Why did you just tell me that, Lor? You could have lied to me. You could have told me you had already had incredible powers, and I might have believed you.”

He just keeps tracing the lines of the book. “Because Jay trusted you. So I should, too.”

“What happened to him?” I whisper. “What happened to Ashe? Was he disgraced, too?”

Lor’s hand abruptly freezes. “Disgraced? No. No, of course not. Jay could never be disgraced.” His eyes flick up to meet mine, and he grits his jaw. It’s a challenge; he wants me to disagree with him.

So I don’t. I just nod and say, “You’re right. It was wrong of me to assume that.”

He grinds his teeth, his jaw working back and forth. Then, after a long moment, he nods. “Yeah. It was. What happened to Jay is completely different than what happened to Asair. Jay was stolen away. Our enemies knew of the legend, and they were afraid it would come true. So they kidnapped Jay when he was twelve to make sure that never happened.”

I think of the first day I met Ashe, of the day the bounty hunter presented him to my father in court. The bounty hunter had worn a large grin as he’d pushed Ashe forward, and so had my father. I’d always wondered why a bewildered little boy, completely mute and beaten half to death, would make the both of them so happy.

Now I knew. Ashe was the ultimate prize. He was Prince Jaylor, their future worst enemy—but not anymore.

“So what about you? Why aren’t you back with your people?” I decide not to voice the dozens of other questions running through my mind: If he was so powerful, why had he let Chagra nearly kill him? Was he really the twin from the prophecy? And, the question that was nagging at the back of my head, slowly working its way forward: Could I trust him?

“I’m not going to talk about that now,” Lor says. “It’s kind of a touchy subject.”