Sisters of Shadow and Light Read online

“Most of the village didn’t know what to believe, and he was very kind and kept to himself, which was why none of us reported him to the authorities,” Sami said. “But Adelric bringing Cinnia here … raising a family at the citadel … it left many of us wondering what he was hoping to accomplish. The Paladin had never done anything to purposely hurt us or rule over us in Gateskeep … but being this close to the gateway meant that we suffered a great number of rakasa attacks, and the Paladin weren’t always careful in their attempts to capture or kill them. There were casualties.”

  Finally, I could bear it no longer, my desperation superseding my pride. “King who? And what gateway?” I forced myself to speak, over the thrumming of my heart. “Why have you never told me any of this?”

  Sami blinked and looked to me, almost as if she’d forgotten I was there. “I couldn’t risk telling you and having you say something and accidentally reveal the very knowledge your mother made me swear to keep from you. But now … with him here … things are changing. I always knew we couldn’t keep the history of your heritage from you forever. I think your mother has begun to realize that as well.”

  “The gateway,” Halvor added, “is here somewhere. Most scholars agree that the citadel was originally built on this cliff eons ago to hide and protect it. They rebuilt it to enable the Paladin to keep their warriors as close to the gateway as possible in case anything else got through.”

  “What kind of gateway? Where does it go?”

  “The gateway—the one that the rakasa came through to Vamala in the first place?” The way he said it made it sound like a question—or a test. I shook my head, my neck hot with embarrassment.

  Halvor and Sami exchanged a look, his one of disbelief and hers one of guilt.

  “A thousand generations ago,” he explained, “our worlds were connected, magical and nonmagical people and creatures living side by side, traveling easily from realm to realm. It was a time of slavery and suffering, for all but the most powerful beings. But after a massive war, a group of Paladin who had come to care for the nonmagical humans combined their power to sever the worlds completely, leaving only one possible link. The gateway hidden here is the connection to Visimperum—the realm where the rakasa and Paladin live. We remained separate for so long that the creatures and beings from the other worlds, including the Paladin and rakasa, fell into myth and legend, a tale used to frighten children into staying in bed. Until the day when it was reopened somehow, and rakasa escaped from Visimperum through the gateway and began terrorizing Vamala once more.”

  I could only stare as he relayed such earth-shaking information as if it were common, everyday knowledge. Which, apparently, it was to everyone in the world, besides me. “And that gateway is here somewhere? Why is there even a gateway at all? When did it get opened—and how? Is it closed now?” Questions rose faster than I could speak them, one on top of another, filling my mind and mouth.

  “Those are the questions that the people of Vamala asked,” Sami said. “Perhaps you can understand why some of the villagers were suspicious of the Paladin. That’s why I allowed myself to look past the evidences of a loving, happy couple—of a good-hearted, kind man gifted with extraordinary abilities and a young wife who had left her family, her home, everything, to follow him—and turned a cold shoulder on them.”

  “What changed?” Halvor asked when I continued to look at her mutely, trying to absorb all of this information while reconciling the cold, unfeeling story version of Sami with the warm, loving one I’d always known.

  “Inara. She changed everything.” Sami’s eyes were on my sister, her expression soft, almost mournful. “When your mother found out she was with child a second time, she called on me again. And once more, I begrudgingly agreed to tend to her pregnancy and birth. My fear and prejudices aside, I wasn’t so unfeeling as to refuse to help a laboring woman. The night Inara was born, Adelric came to Gateskeep to get me. Once we returned here, I couldn’t shake the sensation that something was off. I’d only been there a few times, but it was different that night. And Adelric seemed … troubled. He asked me to go immediately to their room to tend to Cinnia while he checked on something else in the citadel. I didn’t question him—I thought perhaps he was going to find you.” She paused and then: “We never saw him again. And the next morning the hedge had tripled in size, covering the gate, trapping me in the citadel with you three. I was furious … and frightened. But my presence was probably the only reason you and Inara survived that first year. Your mother was…”

  “Broken,” I supplied softly.

  Sami nodded, her gaze still on Inara. My memories of that night rushed forward—Mother refusing to take the baby, calling out for Adelric, Inara’s burning eyes, her tiny cry …

  Halvor was quiet for a long moment before he pressed. “Zuhra told me the hedge has let you out before—when things are desperate and you must go to the village for supplies. If you were so upset at being trapped here, why did you come back?”

  Sami’s eyes darkened to slate and she blinked hard. “Because the girls needed me.”

  Oh, Sami. Something inside me crumpled but I tried to keep my voice steady when I asked, “But what of love—a family of your own?”

  She brushed at an errant streak of moisture on her flour-dusted cheek. “I’ve known great love here, love for both of you girls. And even Cinnia, though you may find it hard to believe. If you’d only known her before—if you’d been able to see what his leaving did to her…” Sami shook her head and reached out to help guide Inara’s hand to her bread on the table. “And … I didn’t feel worthy to have a family of my own. I was too afraid of the curse in my own blood, too afraid of myself. So I missed my chance.”

  Halvor glanced at me questioningly, but I shook my head minutely. I had no idea what she was referring to. She’d never brought any of this up to me before.

  “Sami, how could you say such a thing?”

  She turned to me and I nearly reeled back at the sudden hardness in her eyes. “You think you know me, but you know only what I’ve chosen to show you—what I’ve chosen to share.”

  I flinched, my heart slamming against my ribs. She’d never spoken to me in such a cold, cruel way before. “What do you mean?”

  “I had a sister too, once. She wasn’t part Paladin, like yours, but she was … not right in the mind. And I wasn’t like you, Zuhra. I was ashamed of her. We all were.” A muscle in Sami’s jaw ticked. “She suffered for it.”

  I opened my mouth to speak but then closed it again, not knowing what I could possibly say to ease the grief that seemed to age her right before my eyes.

  “Hasanni could manage small, menial tasks. The wife of the innkeeper took pity on her when she was older and let her wash dishes in the kitchen for a bit of money. I was younger than Hasanni; at that time I’d just come of age. I had a beau, a boy from a nearby village who sold his father’s wares to Gateskeep. We had spoken of courting—even marriage someday. And then, one winter night, when I was supposed to get Hasanni from the inn to walk her home, I was with him and I forgot. I completely forgot about her—my own sister.” Sami bit the words out.

  My blood throbbed unbearably hot in my suddenly cold limbs. I didn’t want to know anymore, I didn’t want to hear the rest. But I could no more stop her than I could will away the storm outside that still lashed the citadel with rain and lightning, the thunder making the walls shudder around us as she continued.

  “She waited there, like she was supposed to. For an hour, she stood in the snow, waiting for me while I danced and laughed and tried to make myself forget she even existed. A traveler showed up late that night, and mistook her for a stable hand. She’d always been fond of animals and he had a beautiful roan stallion…” Sami’s voice cracked, her cheeks damp while the suffering she’d held within her for so long—decades—came tumbling out.

  I perched like a statue on the stool, my earlier curiosity turned to horror at realizing that I’d lived with Sami my entire life—for eighteen years—
and had never truly known her. It had taken a stranger coming and questioning her to find out about her life before the one she’d led here.

  “Hasanni tried to do what the man asked, but her movements were jerky under the best of circumstances, and there was a blizzard that night and the horse spooked. The gentleman tried to control his mount but … Hasanni was trampled. By the time I remembered my sister and rushed to the inn, it was too late.” Sami stared down at her hands, her voice choked. “I was too late. She was gone.”

  “Oh, Sami.” I ached for her, for the burden she’d obviously carried for so long. “It wasn’t your fault—”

  “Yes, it was,” she bit out, her heart-shattering grief transformed into bitter anger in the blink of an eye. “It was my duty to take care of her, and I was so absorbed in my dreams of leaving Gateskeep—of getting away from this place, from the shadow of the citadel, from her—that I failed her. I never spoke to the boy again. I wouldn’t even consider courting anyone. Hasanni’s madness ran in our family, and I had proven I wasn’t capable—wasn’t worthy of such a charge. I didn’t dare seek out marriage or have children of my own. Instead, I apprenticed myself to Gabi, the village healer, and learned to deliver other people’s babies.”

  The kitchen was silent for a long moment. I couldn’t even move to scrub at the wetness on my own cheeks. I wanted to comfort her, wanted to take away her pain and guilt, I wanted her to know the gift she’d been in my life, in Inara’s. But I was immobilized by disbelief, my mouth as dry as sand as I thought of a girl—a girl like Nara—being trampled to death in the snow while Sami danced with some faceless boy, safe and warm and wanted.

  “It quickly became apparent that Inara wasn’t learning to speak or communicate normally—that she had some … difficulties,” Sami continued, caught up in her confessions, unaware of my turmoil. “As she grew I realized perhaps the hedge trapping me here was the Great God’s way of giving me a second chance. I had failed my sister, but I wouldn’t fail her. I wouldn’t fail you: the kind of sister to Inara that I should have been to Hasanni.” Sami reached up to lovingly tuck a strand of hair behind Inara’s ear. The entire time, she’d methodically been eating her lunch, oblivious to us and the shattering truths Sami had revealed. “So I stayed.”

  Inara finally looked up, right at that moment, directly at Sami. And then she smiled. A real, genuine smile—so rare, a gift I held more precious than just about anything in my life.

  “I stayed,” Sami repeated, so softly it was almost to herself.

  FOURTEEN

  Mother didn’t emerge from her room all afternoon. After her confession, Sami excused herself, leaving us alone in the kitchens. I was so shocked by everything she’d shared, I had wished to retire to my room as well, to try and process it all. But I couldn’t leave Inara alone—or with Halvor. Instead, we took Inara outside when the rain let up again for a couple of hours. We walked around the muddy grounds together, letting her linger by her gardens, but there were no plants in need of attention, and so she merely let her fingers trail over the green leaves and growing berries, herbs, and vegetables one by one, her mumbling soft and incoherent, before moving on to the next one.

  “So the hedge tripled in size overnight—the night your father, the Paladin, disappeared. And it rarely allows anyone in or out,” Halvor mused as Inara made her way toward her grove of trees, the hedge rising far above their branches. “It’s never allowed any of you three out, but Sami has been able to come and go at times—when things are desperate enough.”

  “Yes.”

  Halvor’s eyebrows drew together, his forehead creasing. “It almost seems as though … perhaps it is somewhat sentient? It’s almost as if it is trying to … protect you somehow?”

  The sky overhead was a sea of graphite, dark and ominous, threatening more rain to come, though it continued to hold off for the moment. After such a long hot spell the previous week, it was unseasonably cold; the wind bit through my shawl, past my clothes and even my skin, chilling me to the bone. I shivered. Or perhaps it was Halvor’s words that made me tremble and pull the shawl closer around my shoulders.

  “I don’t understand how it’s possible, but yes, I think you’re right.”

  How else could one account for the hedge’s behavior? Even to think of it having behavior made me realize it had to be sentient, at least to some degree. There was no other word that came to mind that described what it did, that monstrous warden that had been as much a part of my life as Sami, Nara, or my mother.

  “It’s Paladin; it’s not of this world,” Halvor said as if that explained everything. And maybe for him, it did.

  But that wasn’t enough for me.

  Before I could express that, I blinked and realized that in my distraction talking to Halvor, I’d lost track of Inara. With Sami’s story still ringing in my mind, I quickly scanned the courtyard for her.

  “Inara!” I called out when I spotted her far past the grove of trees, almost to the hedge. She usually stayed away from the thick green leaves that hid the poisonous barbs beneath. Why had she picked today to press doggedly toward it? She either ignored my cry or couldn’t hear me.

  “Inara!” I lifted my skirts and ran. The wind tore her name from my mouth. If she reached for the hedge, would it strike her? Was her ability to heal strong enough to defeat the poison the concealed barbs held? My heart raced my feet as I flew toward her. I didn’t want to find out.

  I was still too far away to stop her when she reached out and ran her hand along the rain-drenched leaves. The hedge shuddered slightly, but otherwise didn’t move, keeping the poisonous thorns safely hidden behind the thick, heavy leaves hanging low from the rainwater still clinging to them.

  “Inara!” I finally reached her side and grabbed her arm.

  She startled with a screech, batting at me and stumbling backward into the hedge. This time it unmistakably moved, curving around her body, almost as if embracing her—or swallowing her. She would be pierced at any moment.

  “Nara—”

  I reached for her again and this time when I took hold of her hand, she allowed me to pull her free from the vines that still slithered behind and around her like jade snakes.

  Halvor halted at my side, his eyes wide as Inara broke free and the vines fluttered to a stop.

  “What was it doing?”

  “I have no idea,” I responded, quickly guiding my sister away from the hedge. I ran my eyes over her, looking for any signs of scratches or wounds. None were visible—thankfully. “Let’s go back inside. It’s starting to rain again.”

  Sure enough, tiny rings formed in the puddles still dotting the grounds as rain began to drip from the sky. Such a light sprinkling wasn’t normally enough to make me take Inara in and face the confines of the citadel, but after everything that had happened and been revealed that day, I was spooked. Discomfort itched beneath my skin, a creeping sense that things were changing, just as Sami had said, and the rules of the citadel and its grounds were changing with it.

  “Already?” Halvor trailed behind us, but I ignored the reluctance in his voice and marched resolutely toward the door, Nara’s hand still gripped in mine. Luckily she came willingly. There were days when I had to cajole her into coming inside; and on her worst days, Sami and I would have to work together to literally drag her back in. But she was docile at my side, her gaze on the ground as she allowed me to tug her forward.

  I heard Halvor sigh behind us, but I ignored him, my only thought to get Nara as far away from the hedge as possible.

  * * *

  Mother came to dinner that night, much to my dismay. It was a strained meal, with Halvor attempting to make small talk despite her continued curt remarks in return. I remained silent, barely looking up from my plate, more conscious than ever of Sami serving the food rather than joining us to enjoy it. Nara sat beside me, mumbling and pulling at her skirt rather than eating, no matter how many times I tried to offer her the food. Perhaps she could sense the tension in the room, even th
rough the roar.

  Guilt slithered in my belly, compounded by what I’d learned of my mother from Sami, making eating difficult for me as well. She’d given up her family, moved to a remote, abandoned citadel for Adelric, had been rejected by the townspeople, and then he’d left her, with only her two young daughters and Sami. And yesterday, I had told her I hated her.

  Only after Sami had cleared our plates did I summon the courage to attempt a foray into conversation with her. “Mother, I—”

  Before I could finish, Mother pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “I’m certain you said quite enough yesterday.” Her eyes met mine, for the first time since she left my room, and I reeled back from the anger—the hurt—swimming in hers. My mouth snapped shut. “I can’t shake this headache, so I believe I will retire for my nightly tea. I imagine you are tired after so much time outside today—I expect you all to retire to your rooms for the night immediately as well.” I didn’t miss the flash of warning on her face, the unspoken command that we stay in our rooms—or else.

  Halvor belatedly stood as well, but I remained in my seat, my lips pursed tightly together, afraid of what would burst out of me if I tried to speak again. An apology—a question—more anger. I couldn’t have hazarded a guess; I was a cataclysm of emotions, all crowding each other inside the too-small confines of my mind.

  Though I did feel guilty for what I’d said, and what she’d been through, I hadn’t even begun to forget the burning hunger, the hollowness of body and spirit she’d inflicted on me—the helplessness of knowing something had happened to Inara but being unable to go to her. And for what? Visiting a library that might give me answers about my father—about Inara? I lifted my chin, all the anger I’d spent days suppressing swirling back up, the beast she’d created within me woken by the challenge in her eyes.

  “Would you like me to escort you to your room?” Halvor suddenly offered, standing and holding out his arm as if he were a gentleman and she a grand lady.