The Broken Crown

Chapter 37

 “I trust it you heard,” the Shadow said, somewhat awkwardly. That almost made her laugh. He was not a man who was easily unnerved, and in the two years it had been since the last time she had seen him, this was a feature she had exaggerated enough to have forgotten he was simply human.

 Anaïs stood up straight, her legs feeling strange after spending so many hours sitting on the ground. “About the serving girl? Yes.”

 He nodded to himself. “I had a mind to tell you myself.”

 Anaïs tilted her head questioningly. “Did you kill her?”

 “No.” He chuckled. “No, I did not. I wouldn’t have.”

 “You don’t usually have qualms about killing people,” she noted, surprised.

 “She wasn’t supposed to die,” he told her, and she took a subconscious step backwards at his harsh tone. “Besides, I wouldn’t want her to die.”

 Anaïs smiled at the thought of there being someone whom the Shadow would not kill. “Who was she? A lover?”

 He did not even smile at the joke. She had not expected him to. “No.” The hollowness in his voice was not something she had expected, though.

 “Who then?”

 He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

 “Who?”

 “Karen,” he said finally, and Anaïs furrowed in confusion. Karen… She had almost forgotten how the servant looked; she could have described her – brown hair, a little too tanned face, brown eyes – but how she looked was lost. Anaïs could have cried when she realized that.

 However, she remembered her voice when she gossiped, and she remembered how she would gasp incredulously from time to time. She remembered what she had said after Anaïs went to see the Shadow on their first day of work together. So, are you paying him? Or is he paying you?

 And she remembered noticing her eyes, when she said goodbye. She remembered the flecks of blue surrounded her iris, as hopeful as the person they belonged to. Karen had always hoped for better, and Anaïs thought it was unfair that it was always the hopeful that died, while cynics like herself prevailed.

 The Shadow reached out a steadying hand, clasping Anaïs upper arm. “Are you alright?” he asked, and she thought he looked worried.

 “Yes. Yes, of course.” She stepped out of his reach and drew in a deep breath. “She was very dear to me,” she explained. “Very special.”

 The Shadow smiled, and she thought it was the first time she ever saw him do that. It looked almost comical. “I think I remember her.”

 “You do?”

 He chuckled, and that was even stranger. “She was the one who would not shut up, if I remember correctly?”

 “And the one who made you laugh,” Anaïs pointed out with a smile of her own.

 He furrowed in confusion. “She did not.”

 She smiled, letting out a small giggle. It sounded melancholic to her, but not empty. “She just did.”

 He did not chuckle again, or even smile, but he did speak. “So she did.”

 Swallowing down a lump that had settled in her throat, Anaïs looked up at him. “Will you leave now?”

 “I just have one more question.”

 Anaïs pushed the unruly lock of hair, which kept falling into her face, back behind her ear impatiently. “What is that?”

 “You did well,” he told her. “Are you happy?”

 She thought about it for a long time, a very long time. Time seemed to have stopped moving. “Yes,” she finally answered, only then realizing that it was someone asking, actually asking if she was happy that made her happy. All the others expected her to be sad that the Kahari was gone, even now, but he did not. “Shadow…”

 “Yes?”

 “Do you think I am great?” She looked up at him, meeting his gaze boldly.

 “Great?”

 “Yes. Do you think what I have done has let me to greatness?”

 He frowned. “I didn’t think you wanted to achieve anything,” he said.

 “But I did, didn’t I?” Her eyes narrowed in question.

 “Yes, you did.”

 For some reason or another, she felt incredibly relieved when those words left his mouth. “Can I know your name?”

 He didn’t answer.

 When it became apparent that his unspoken reply was no, she nodded to herself. “I understand. Goodbye, then.”

 There were no more words exchanged between them. He left silently as he had come, and she was left standing, feeling as empty as her surroundings were silent.

 Once she had finished digging for roots and herbs, she returned to the village and put them inside the shed she shared with Talia. Then she walked out into the forest once again, heading north by east to her clearing. It was the place where she had shed her first tears after arriving to the South. Perhaps it was the place where she had shed her first tears since she was old enough to work.

 The sun shone down onto the top of her head and her hands went behind her head to release her hair. It shone in the sun as it fell down her back, almost completely straight. Her feet carefully treaded the ground, and then she looked to her left.

 There he was, in the sun with her, walking the same path as her, little more than fifteen feet away. He looked at her and her lips parted in shock.

 For some reason, none of them strayed from their path. They just walked beside each other, taking the same steps, walking the same path, just far from each other.

 They had walked almost all the way to the tree line when all of a sudden, her steps just stopped. She turned around, facing him, seeing him mirror her images. Then she took the first step, this time towards him instead of the shadows of the forest.

 He did the same, and she gasped.

 Again and again, step by step, they moved closer to each other, and every time his feet moved with hers, it was a surprise to her. Every time she lifted her feet, her heart stopped thinking he might not follow. But he always did.

 By the time she had reached him, her eyes were brimming with tears, but it made no matter. She always cried when she came there anyways.

 Her hands gripped his tunic harshly, but it took her a long moment of collecting her bravery before she managed to use that grasp to haul herself up.

 His lips were chapped and his taste was foul, that of alcohol and smoke. His body smelled dirty from the road. He smelled the way any man would in Etheron, even the royals. But the Shadow did not try to hide who he was, and, she realized, that was why her body did not tense when his hand caressed her sides softly, why she did not have to suppress a scream when he groaned into her mouth or pushed her against a tree.

 She knew him, for better or for worse, and that was why he did not scare her when he ground into her, or bit her shoulder. Instead, it made waves pleasure ripple through her body, shaking her very core.

 That was why, when she screamed, it was not from pain or fear or terror, but from pleasure.

 And, when the wave crashed over her, that was why she did not fear drowning. Her hands clung to him and she had never in her life felt safer. She had never felt safer than when this killer, this animal to so many, softly lay down with her on the ground, tired from what could scarcely be called love-making.

 They were both panting, as much from exhaustion as surprise. Their eyes met and she thought she saw some happiness.

 “My name’s Zacharias,” he whispered.