Shadow's End (Light & Shadow) (18 page)

There was only one thought echoing in my head: that
the day had come, at last, when Temar was my enemy, open and declared—not just by words, but by action. There could be no hope for reprieve. One of us would die, soon, and their master with them—and the other would triumph. I had spent years hoping that this would never come to pass, and now I must steel myself to it. I could not let Miriel die, and her hopes with her. And so it must be Temar and the Duke who lost, who died.

Chapter 18

“Catwin!”

Footsteps pounded after me. I ran, pushing my weary muscles to a sprint, dashing through the corridors, but Temar was faster. I darted into the stairwell and ran, jumping over the railings
in my descent, but he was catching up, and if I ran much farther, we would be in the stairs that led to the kitchens, with wakeful servants watching our confrontation. I needed to confront him here.

“You would have
killed
me!” I spat, choosing a landing and rounding on him, my hands in fists. I shoved away his hands when he reached out to me.

“Catwin,” Temar tried to laugh
, but I could see the strain in his eyes. “He never would have ordered that.” He was out of breath from chasing me. He smiled, and even now, the sight was sweet to me. “Do not think I would have hurt you. Please, Catwin.” I did not give a thought to his pleading, but instead I went to the heart of it at once, my words as keen-edged as a dagger.

“Would you have done it if he had ordered?”

The words dropped into silence. Far below, I could hear the clatter of pots and pans, the endless work of the cooks. Here, in this little stairwell, there was only darkness and the sound of our breathing. I looked at him, and saw—in the flickering lantern light—that he had gone grey.

“Don’t ask that. Catwin, please. Don’t ever ask that of me.”

“I won’t need to,” I said coldly, and I pushed my way past him and left, climbing back towards the nobles’ apartments. I felt a pain in my chest that I supposed was heartbreak, a deep aching, and an upwelling of anger. Hadn’t I always known that Temar’s first allegiance was to the Duke? What did I think I could have changed?

“Catwin!” I kept walking. I needed to get to Miriel; I needed to see the face of an ally, I needed the embrace of the only other person who could understand how much this hurt.

When I felt his hand on my shoulder, I did not even think. I dropped and turned, shoved my hips backwards. Temar stumbled sideways with a muffled yell, his fingertips grazing my arm, and I slid past him in the dark, letting him fall behind me on the stairs. I would have gotten away, but Temar was the one who had taught me that throw; Temar had known what I might try, and he had thrown his arm out as he hit the wall. He caught my ankle and pulled me back.

My other foot lashed out, catching him in the ribs, and I tumbled sideways, yanking on the front of his tunic, dragging him down and twisting as he fell. His arm snaked up, catching
at my belt, and I fell, too, giving a gasp as I hit the left side of my body against the stone floor. We tumbled to the landing below, sprawled on the floor, his hands grabbing for mine as I tried to jab my fingers into his sternum, find the pressure points on his torso. We struggled, I desperate to hit him and drive him back, unable to rest long enough to plant my feet and throw him from here, him reaching to keep my hands back from his eyes, from his throat.

He caught my wrists, pinning me against the ground, and in the dim light I could see only the contours of his face. I yanked at my hands, but ineffectually, and then dropped my head back, onto the floor, despairing. There was nothing left but the most vicious of attacks, the most unexpected and attention-grabbing. A moment ago, I had been willing enough to use them—now, in this silence, I knew that I did not want to kill him
. I could not. This very night, he had spoken of honor, of love, of justice—it was not in me to kill him without knowing, now, why he was here.

Temar’s face hovered close to mine, his lips so close that I felt I could feel the warmth of his skin. I heard my instincts crying out that I had thrown away my advantage, that knowledge and honor were nothing if he killed me now, but the voice seemed very far away. We stared at one another, and I could feel my skin on fire where it touched his: his hands at my wrists, my legs tangled with his. I shaped his name silently with my lips, and I saw him shape mine, and then he bent his head and kissed me.

His lips were soft. That was my first, surprised thought. Temar was all coldness and sinew. In all my dreaming, I had never thought that his lips might be soft. Surprised, dazed, I felt myself kiss him back.

“We can’t do this,” he murmured, between kisses.

“I know,” I agreed, but I felt my legs tangle in his and my head lift slightly, for his kiss. All of a sudden I needed to feel his skin against me and I arched my back to bring my torso along his. He gave a gasp at that.

“Catwin.”

“I know,” I whispered back. I could feel his hips drive against mine. “But I can’t stop.”

It was a dream, I thought; certainly, it did not feel like reality. His hands came away from my wrists and one cupped the back of my head where it lay against the floor, the other found my waist and tore at the sword belt. My hands were at his waist, fingers tangling in the lacing of his britches. I was burning up—

Footsteps. The one thing that could have moved us. We were up in a flash, pausing to hear whether the footsteps were above or below us, and then running, fleeing without words towards the Duke’s rooms. We slowed to a walk as we approached, and the guards swung their pikes aside to let us through; I shot a glare at them for betraying me to the Duke, but as soon as we were in the room alone, I forgot their presence entirely. It was dark in the outer room; the fire had burned low and there was no sound from Miriel’s chambers.

“Miriel?” I whispered. No answer, and we looked at each other in the half-light of the dying fire. He stayed a few feet away from me, uncertainly.

“Catwin, we can’t do this.” But he was moving towards me.

“I know,” I said, but I reached for him. His l
ips found mine once more, and the world faded—

“Very interesting.”

Temar shoved himself away from me with a curse, and I felt my head whip around to the shadows at the edge of the room. Miriel stood and stepped out of the shadows of the chair; she had waited for me, for the news I would bring back, hoping that the Duke’s departure did not mean my death. I stared at her dumbly and took in every inch of her. She had tilted her head to the side as she studied Temar, cool and collected. I looked over at him, saw him breathing hard as he stared back at her. For the first time, he did not look so much furious as wary.

“You know,” Miriel said, her voice like cool water, “I think you really do want Catwin.”
I lost my breath at her words. I had kissed him, pulled him to me, shown him without even thinking that I wanted him—I had always wanted him. I had not even thought that he might be playing me for a fool.

Temar said nothing, and Miriel smiled. It was not her uncle’s smile, nor her mother’s. It was the smile of a woman I hoped would never be my enemy.

“And I really think that my uncle would believe me if I told him. Don’t you?” Temar shrugged, but I had seen his gaze close off. Miriel stepped closer. “And what do you think he’d do if he knew?” she asked, and I saw the first genuine fear I had ever seen in Temar’s eyes. I looked away, not wanting him to know that I had seen, not wanting to watch while my ally blackmailed the man I loved.

“So you stop telling him not to trust me,” Miriel ordered. “I know you’ve always hated me, but I swear to you, you don’t know the first thing about me—and I won’t be undone by you. Stay out of my business, Temar, and I’ll stay out of yours.” And she left. At the door, she turned and held out her hand. “Catwin.”

“I’ll come in a moment.” I saw her face go blank; it had been an order as much as a question, and she had not allowed herself to fear that I would choose Temar over her. She turned on her heel and disappeared into her room, and the door closed behind her with a gentle click.

“Do we have to be enemies?” I asked softly. “Truly?”
There was no time for dissembling; I could not make this pretty. I looked up into his eyes, and recoiled at what I saw there: darkness, and death, and pain. Over everything, pain. “Who
are
you?” I asked, before I could stop myself.
What are you?

“I am a Shadow,” he said. “We could never be allies, Catwin. Your first allegiance is to Miriel, you know that. You’ve proved it time and again.”

“But I don’t want to be your enemy,” I protested.

“It’s
all the same thing,” he said simply. “Think on it all you want, but there’s no way around it.” He lifted the latch, slipped out the door, and was gone.

“How could you?” Miriel asked simply, when at last I gathered the courage to open the door and face her. She was standing in the center of the room, waiting for me. She had wrapped her robe around herself, and I saw that she was shivering; even in midsummer, the stone bulk of the Fortress pulled the warmth from the air. I bowed my head in the face of her bright scrutiny.

“It was a mistake,” I said shortly. I did not believe that, could not believe that; but every piece of evidence we had pointed to the fact that it had been a terrible mistake, an unforgivable lapse in judgment. Even Temar knew it.

And therein lay the greatest hurt of all. In all of my dreams and all of my longing to see Temar’s face, I had not thought for a moment that he might feel the same yearning for me; it had not even occurred to me to wonder about it. I had never thought that he might love another—not he—but I would never have
believed that he might want me. What there was between us was friendship and laughter—and later, forced enmity and my own unfortunate adoration. I had not once thought there might be more.

It had been heartbreaking, even that a friend might promise to kill me if I stood in his way. Had I not run from him, turned on him, lashed out at him for coming close to killing me? Temar k
new me better even than Miriel, in some ways, and better than Roine; and now Temar, who had taught me to tumble and reason and spy, would kill me. I had killed, and I knew it to be the very definition of horror, but I had only killed in panic, killed men I did not know; how could one kill, deliberately, a person they had seen breathe, laugh, smile, run? Temar and I had sparred enough to know each other’s very heartbeat—even if he had not loved me, how could he think of killing me? It was unfathomable.

And the fact that he might love me, and still do so, brought more pain than I had known existed in this world. Heedless of Miriel, I hunched over. It felt as if my chest was tearing itself apart, and I could not remember how to breathe.

“I wish we hadn’t come back,” I whispered.

“Why not?” she asked, curious despite herself. She would not reach out and touch me, and I knew that she doubted me now, but still she drew closer, and peered at me with a frown.

“In a week, we’ve lost every ally we had. Except Wilhelm.” I looked up and saw the flash of hope in her eyes, but I was too bitter to stop there. “Roine won’t speak to me, Temar nearly killed me. Jacces can’t be trusted not to go mad, and I’m certain he’ll try to kill us when he knows what we’ve done. And everything we’ve worked for could come to nothing in any case—what if the Ismiri win? What then?”

“We’ll probably be dead,” Miriel said matter-of-factly. “So I doubt we’ll care very much.” She looked me in the eyes, and I saw her force herself not to ask me of Wilhelm. “A question, though…”

“Yes?” I asked wearily, and she shrugged.

“If Temar just tried to kill you, why were you kissing him?” It was half a serious question and half a joke, but I would not be led, and Miriel grimaced when she saw my face.
She bit her lip and looked away.

“Your uncle doesn’t know anything,” I said, as calmly as I could. “He thinks you sent me to see if Wilhelm would agree to a tryst. It’s what he suspected in any case. He let me go, and told us he’d kill us if he thought there was anything more.” There was a silence, and then Miriel finally broke.

“And what did Wilhelm say?”

“He said to find an excuse to come into the camps with the Councilors, that it would be noteworthy, but he could not risk anyone seeing you near his apartments. He will meet with you, and sign the treaty.”

“Anything else?” she asked, and I tried to force away my own envy. They might be kept apart, always, but they could love each other, each without ever thinking of the other as an enemy.

“He said he would speak to you of it—but he wanted me to assure you that he would not have married Marie if he’d had any other choice.” Slowly, she nodded, and she closed her eyes tightly.

“It will be over soon,” she said, as much to herself as to me. “Catwin, I think I want nothing more in this world than to see him. More than the treaty, more than anything. I’ve been such a fool.”

“No.” I shook my head. “There’s no logic to it.”
Who would know that better than I?

“Catwin, please—“ Miriel’s voice broke, and I saw tears in her eyes. “Please promise me you won’t betray me.”

“I would never betray you!” I dashed my own tears away, angry now. “Never. How could you think that?” She did not mention what she had seen in the Duke’s rooms, it was too obvious to be worth discussion. She only stared at me steadily.

“Because if we stick to this plan, we’ll both come
out of it with nothing,” she said bitterly. “Have you thought of that? I have. Anyone would think that it might be better just to cut and run. Please. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I said, into the darkness.