Variants of Shade : Shadows and Shade Alternate Universes

Beginning : Pigs

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The girl is still unconscious on Pax's horse. Hanging over the animal's withers, even after we slow to a walk and approach the White Castle with some measure of the required stealth. The few friends we still have include Jada, a Sealer who can, on rare occasions, grant us the seal required to leave the White Castle.

If we're caught, we're dead. But getting the statue from Lord Martin was important enough to risk it.

Roarke and I both take a deep breath. Tasting the air. Hunting for Darkness and other signs that we're walking into trouble or a trap.

"Clear," Roarke says.

I nod in agreement – or at least not disagreement. We sense different things, and we can never be completely sure. A little bit of the right kind of potion or Seed, and we'd be completely unsure.

Fun.

We slip from the trees and into one of several back entries to the stables.

"Are you sure we can't keep her?" Allure asks.

"I'm sure," Pax grumbles.

Pax has been uncharacteristically silent. His threads are tangled around the girl with tinges of cinnamon and roses and even a little bit of morning dew on the air. Regret, desire, and sorrow. I've ridden behind him the whole way back, and though his body language declares the mortal is nothing but a burden, he did save her – and I have no idea why.

I'm not one for saying much.

And I'm not about to change now.

We ride through the quiet stables all the way to what appears to be a dead end. Seth dismounts and opens the wall made from woven branches with one touch. The branches peel back to reveal our little section of the stables. Leftover from when we were young princes and had the run of the place.

It's about the only thing we have left.

We're not permitted into the White Castle anymore, and we try not to frequent the stables too often in case this little spot falls under anyone's scrutiny. A few days here and there. A quick trip to personally tend to our mounts. All of that is easy to slip under people's noses with some care and some Allure. But it's not worth the risk to stay here permanently. And the stable master takes care of the horses anyway.

So, for the most part, this place, as with everything else that we once were, is forgotten.

Seth leads his horse into its stall then hurries back to Pax, lowering the girl down and cradling her like a child. She practically is a child. A mortal.

Which would make her a dead child in a kingdom where even the weak live for a few hundred years and can survive a ten story drop. And the strong live to over a thousand and enjoy a ten story drop. Plus there's the issue of our magic slowly draining away the mortals soul.

They may be my brothers, doesn't mean I don't often think they're brainless.

Pax swings down from his saddle and motions for Seth to hand her over, which Seth does after an obvious hesitation. I grunt at them both, tending to my horse rather than watching their nonsense.

Sure, she's interesting. Pure fight sits deep inside her. Her threads are made from struggle and survival. An ashy scent comes and goes on her, just the slightest whiff – not like most mortals who have lived in fear long enough to be tainted to the soul.

The Void tastes like ash, and I don't seek or tolerate its company.

But the scent fades when dealing with Pax or talking to me – her fears lie in something worse than us. Which makes her a curious creature. But I don't want to be curious about a mortal.

Ever.

The ideal situation here would be that she is deposited with the servants – which is the plan – and we never see her again. But, if we do see her again, I'd like to see what she does when faced with a real challenge.

Real fear.

Real danger.

Does she run? Does she fight?

Seth's the betting type, but odds are that she'll curl into a ball and cry. And that will be the moment I know if she's worth my time.

When I turn from unsaddling and brushing my horse, Seth and Roarke are already finished with theirs, and Pax has returned from depositing the mortal somewhere far from us, and begun his own.

A few moments later, we let ourselves out of the stables and amble along the border of the castle grounds. As far as the world is concerned the Elorsin brothers were punished for treason. We killed the Crown – our mother – and would have taken over the kingdom if not for Lithael stepping in. Lithael took mercy on us and begged the council to relegate us to servants at the White Castle for the remainder of our lives. Simply because he wants to watch us suffer for the next thousand years.

Wants to make us beg and kneel in the mud.

And he'll fail every time.

Because the world is wrong – and we watched him murder our mother – but there's nothng we can do about it.

"What did you do with the girl?" I ask as we pass the back wall of the servants' building – home.

"Nothing. The guards came along, and I handed her over. Said she's a new servant who hit her head on the walk here. She needs a place to stay and a job to do. I could hardly carry her inside or deliver her to the bonded-quarters – could I?" Pax says.

"So, you left her with some guards?" Seth asks, drawing out the 'so' like he wasn't sure if he should continue.

"Which ones?" Roarke asks.

Pax's eyes narrow as he thinks. "We stopped keeping track of what happens in those halls years ago."

So, he left a defenseless mortal with strangers. This is amusing.

We've all stopped, and for a long moment indecision taints the air.

The reality gnaws at him, but she isn't a toy or a pet, and we can't keep her. We work the grounds, which today means pushing small hand cutters that trim the grass to a perfect height. Just like the twenty or so other servants spread out over the open green space before us. The grounds quarters are behind us. The stables beyond that. And somewhere even further back is the girl.

Pax looks ready to bite, Seth's on the balls of his feet but not bouncing, and Roarke runs a hand through his long hair frowning at our options.

We have none. We can't do anything but cut the damn grass.

One by one we break free from our consciences and join the workers. The evening bell will toll soon, and then we'll find out if our day's absence drew attention, or if our few allies managed to keep our secret.