Read Online Shadow's End (Light & Shadow) by Moira Katson - Free Book Online Page B

voice. I did not want to spark her fear by agreeing, but I did not have the words to contradict her. Instead, I went to the window and peered out. Men were patrolling around the house, and as I watched, a detachment of the men I had been training took up position, practicing their sword work as they faced the house. From his vantage point atop one of the nearby statue pedestals, Jeram waved and gave me a mocking bow, and I slammed the shutters closed.
    I went hot, and then cold. Think, think . The Merchant would forbid Jeram to kill us, he would assure Jeram that we could be trusted. Jeram would, in time, agree. He knew that his men were better trained now than they would be without me. He even knew, deep down, that Miriel’s treaty offered them a better chance of survival than their suicidal siege plan—surely, he must know that. But what of the others? What of later, when Miriel’s fight with Jeram was reported to the men at the tavern? Who might decide that they were better without the noble then?
    And so, we should be ready to escape in an instant. Silently, I pointed to my spare suit, and then to Miriel. Her eyes widened, but she did not argue. She had run away in a gown before, gasping as the ribs of a corset bit into her, holding her skirts out of her way; she put no stock in vanity now. She pulled the suit on and rolled up the pants and the sleeves, looking delicate and striking, her black hair gleaming darker, truer even than my black suit, her skin standing out, creamy.
    There was nothing for us to do, and so when Aron arrived to bring us our dinner, Miriel was already in bed, the covers pulled over her shoulders and her dark curls spread across her pillow. I saw Aron’s eyes flick around the room, resting on her briefly, before he shoved the food into my hands and slammed the door once again.
    I wanted to laugh, or cry. Giving two imprisoned girls food. The Merchant would not know what had happened to us before, he would have no way of knowing that poisoned food had been sent to us—and that that one incident had been the what bound us together as allies. In truth, I doubted that The Merchant would ever poison us. He was a soft man, softer than he believed Miriel to be—he could not wield a knife or order a young woman’s death. Still, I laid the tray on the table, the food untouched, and went to bed myself.
    It was past midnight w hen the key turned in the lock, and I felt no rush of fear, only a calm acceptance that I had been right. I reached up, silently, and wrapped my hand around the haft of the dagger I had laid by my pillow. The door opened with barely a whisper of sound, and the figure slipped inside, shadowy. Aron. My eyes were accustomed to the dark, and I knew his walk; I had watched him out of the corner of my eye since the first day we had lived in this house.
    I did not hesitate—only flipped the blade into my fingers, sat up, and threw. He gave a choked cry, and I heard Miriel wake, saw her scramble towards the window. I gestured to her not to jump. I did not know if she saw, and I had no time to check; I was hurtling across the room to Aron’s side, wrapping my hand around the dagger where it protruded from his chest, my other arm across his windpipe.
    “Who sent you? Who sent you to kill us?”
    “Not—both.” His teeth were stained with blood, but he was laughing. “Just you.”
    “What?”
    “They said—necessary.” He gave a shudder of pain.
    “Who? Who said it?” He looked over at me and smiled, terribly, and then he wrapped his fingers over mine and jerked the d agger out of his chest. His blood flowed out over my fingers, and his head lolled back.
    “Catwin!” Miriel was at my side, her fingers twining in mine, an arm around my waist. “Catwin, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
    “Did you hear him?” I demanded. I could feel shock setting in: I felt that I was floating. I could feel her arm around me and nothing else. Then reality slammed down, and Miriel’s fingers and