Counting Shadows

Chapter Two, Part Two

The answer is so obvious that I almost laugh at his question. “Because he murdered my Guardian. It’s his fault, and he needs to die for it.”

“So now it’s your job to deal out justice, huh? Great. I’ll inform the Grand Judge that he can retire.”

I answer seriously, ignoring the sarcastic drawl in his voice. “It’s revenge, not justice. There’s a difference.”

“And that is?”

“Justice is laws and politics and lies. Revenge actually means something.”

Farren shakes his head and doesn’t respond. One, two, three, four, five… I count the moments of silence that pass. After Ashe’s death, I was always counting my heartbeat, remembering his promise to me. Soon I figured out methodical counting can be soothing, and it became a habit.

When I reach eighteen, I let out a long breath. “Seriously, though. How was your day?”

He groans and lets his head fall back, but goes along with the subject change. “There were three more magical raids on the border.” He shifts his gaze to me. “Some of the Counsel is trying to blame you.”

I let my lip twist into a sneer. “When will they ever give up on that theory?”

“They have no reason to give up on it, Faye. These are magic raids. People are dying, and they can’t find any culprits.”

“Except for me, of course,” I mutter.

“Except for you. You look strange, you act strange, and you’re a person of power. Plus you have those visions. You’re the perfect suspect.”

I narrow my eyes. “Farren, you know I have no power. I’m a princess, not a prince. You don’t actually think I’m responsible for anything, do you?”

Farren rolls his eyes. “Of course not. You’re odd, but you’re definitely not a witch.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“You should be thanking me,” he says, his tone a little sharper. “There are some people who—”

“Want me dead. I know, Farren. I hear all about it. Just because I act oblivious to everything around me doesn’t mean I actually am.”

He bites his lip and doesn’t reply, which I take as an insult. I cross my arms and look away from him. Mature, no. But wise? Yes. It’s never smart to get into a heated argument with Farren. Neither of us ever wins—we’re both too stubborn—and we’re both fantastic at holding grudges. The result is both of us avoiding each other for a few weeks, getting lonely and extremely bored, and eventually making up. But I don’t feel like going through the whole three-to-four week process at the moment.

Farren gnaws at his lip for a couple more seconds—it’s a habit he’s never been able to break, no matter how much Father gets after him—and then says, “I don’t understand you, Faye. Not at all. You don’t seem to care that there are people out there wanting you dead.”

I care, of course. I won’t die knowing the man who murdered Ashe is still alive. But I only care enough to ensure Father will protect me from the witch-hunters and all the other paranoid citizens calling for my death. As long as I’m safe—as long as Father will protect me—what they say and want doesn’t matter.

“I care,” I say simply.

“Not enough.”

I shake my head. “You’re being ridiculous, Farren. We all know who’s behind the attacks. The Council is just too afraid to admit it.”

Farren raises an eyebrow. “You think it’s Shale?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

He nods, his expression darkening. “But we seem to be the only ones. Everything else is pretending like he’d never target Irrador.”

“Why wouldn’t he? I mean, our country is well-protected, but it’s nothing compared to Shale’s army. He’s taken over seven countries in the past three years. It’s just stupid to think he won’t target Irrador. And he’s—”

Farren holds up a hand to stop me. “You don’t have to tell me, Faye. Believe me, I know.”

“Then why aren’t you doing anything?” I demand.

“I’m not king. Seven more months, remember?”

“Of course I remember. But that’s no excuse to not do anything about Shale.”

He scoffs. “You’re one to talk.”

I probably should try to come up with a comeback. But I just shake my head and say nothing, because I know he’s right.

Farren stands from the chair and stretches. “We can’t seem to have a discussion tonight without disagreeing.”

“Can we ever?”

He chuckles and shrugs. “No, not really.” His expression lightens into that affectionate smile he’s given me as long as I can remember. “I’m going to retire for the night. You should, too. It’s late.”

I nod, despite knowing that I’ll be up for hours poring over the letter Derrin gave me. It’ll be in code, of course. Derrin loves his codes.

Farren moves toward the hallway, but says over his shoulder, “I mean it, Faye. Get to sleep. You have a big week ahead.”

Fire. Surrounding me, everywhere, the flames licking at the wooden cabin. I cough and stumble toward the door, throwing my arm over my mouth to keep the smoke out. Ahead of me, there’s a clear path leading outside, untouched by the accelerant I doused the cabin with.

“Please!” a voice calls from behind me. It’s deep and masculine, but strained by the smoke. “You can’t just leave me. The windows are jammed, I can’t get out!”

I glance over my shoulder. A young man stands across from me, trapped in the corner of the room by the fire. He stares at me with eyes as red as the flames.

I could unjam the windows for him when I get outside. But then why jam them in the first place?

“Goodbye,” I say.

I walk out the door, his screams following after me.

I startle at the fire in front of me. But then I blink a few times, and realize it’s safely contained in the fireplace. The fireplace in my chambers, far from any wood cabins.

The vision is over.

“Faye?” Farren says tentatively.

I can only imagine what my expression looks like. My skin feels clammy, and I’m breathing too fast. I swallow hard, trying to remember where our conversation left off before the vision struck.

“Goodnight, Farren.” My words are a whisper.

He sighs and shakes his head. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in two days.”