And then I let myself drift in the inky waters of my despair, until my bell rings and announces my first patron of the day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
There’s a party held that evening to honor one of Tarkin’s newly minted generals, yet another excuse for the entire Grace District to drink their weight in wine until sunrise, and so my patron schedule empties shortly after midday. I know I won’t be seeing Aurora, either, and so I snatch a few hours’ rest, gather Callow, and escape to the black tower.
If Endlewild knew what I was doing with Kal, he would have made good on his threats. And probably burned the tower down for good measure. But I know his promise to watch me was not an idle one. And so after I’m clear of the Common District checkpoint, I push my Shifter magic to its limits. For the first time, I’m able to hold a Shift for longer than a few minutes. I become a beggar woman with a weathered face that not even the guards at the main gates bother to question. Still, I think I feel eyes on my back with every step.
Between lack of sleep, restless anxiety, and spent magic, I’m a jumble of buzzing nerves by the time I reach the tower and let my Shift fall away. Callow sails ungracefully to the ground, complaining when she lands at an awkward angle.
“Haughty Fae beast,” Kal spits out when I’ve told him of Endlewild’s visit. “He has no right to threaten you. His kin murdered your own.”
“It’s not the first time he’s threatened me, and I doubt it’s the last.” I pull my cloak closer against the shards of icy sea spray. “When I told you of my childhood—all the tests and treatments were done under Endlewild’s direction. He wanted the Briar King to kill me when they found me. Now he’s just waiting for an excuse to do it himself.”
Kal tenses with each word, his shadows like spears in the dimness. “He will not kill you. Not as long as I live.”
I don’t see that there’s much Kal can do from this prison, but I hold my tongue. The sentiment means more than I can say. “He can’t prove anything about my power, otherwise he would have already executed me. And the Briar King doesn’t want me dead—not yet.” When I escape Briar, he might change his tune.
“That will not stop the Fae beast.” Kal paces along the perimeter of the chamber, which is submerged in the deepening indigo of twilight. “Does he know you are part Shifter?”
“No.” Of that much, I’m certain. Being half Vila is bad enough for the Fae lord. If he knew I shared the blood of another creature of Malterre, he would have slit my throat on the spot. “And I would never betray you.”
Dragon knows I’ve wanted to tell Aurora about Kal often enough. But I can’t trust that she wouldn’t reveal Kal’s existence, even by accident. And if Endlewild wants to kill me simply because of my ancestors’ perceived crimes, I don’t want to think about what he would do to Kal.
“I believe you.” His shadows roll like a tide behind him. “But we must be more careful.”
“I’ll Shift every time I come. I managed it the whole way just now.”
He beams, a brilliant slash of white in the gloam, and for a moment I let his pride fill me up, replacing the queasy dread that’s plagued me for days. “Wonderful news. But it is not enough. Not quite.”
That shot of happiness fades. “What else can I do?”
“I will teach you a new Shift. It is difficult, but I believe you have the potential to master it. And you must.”
My magic wriggles, already eager for the challenge. To prove that I’m worthy of Kal’s confidence. That I’ll do anything to keep him—us—safe from Endlewild’s claws. “What is it?”
His jet eyes glow. “I will teach you to be invisible.”
* * *
—
Difficult is an understatement.
I’m already bone-tired from my sleepless nights, and my power was stretched as thin as spider’s silk after I held the Shift on the way to the tower. The key to invisibility is focus. The Shifter must be in constant flux, altering herself with each step to reflect the changing environment. The best Shifters, Kal tells me, are able to remain invisible even at a run. Even on horseback. But it takes decades of practice and patience.
The Shift itself is excruciating, requiring precise concentration on a hundred details at once. An ache starts at my temples and hammers down my tender vertebrae, into the exhausted muscles of my shoulders. My joints don’t want to re-form into the molds I bid them take, and they balk and buck at every command.