Sisters of Shadow and Light Page 3

It was like having Sami dump a bucket of icy water over my head during the winter months when I needed a bath but firewood had to be saved for more vital uses than warming water. It was unpleasant but effective at forcing me to act quickly. His reaction to Inara was that bucket of water sluicing over my astonishment at his appearance, propelling me to respond.

  “Who are you?” My words were halting and uncertain and furious all at once. My legs were strangely stiff—from panic? From shock?—but I forced them to move, to carry my body in front of Inara, blocking my sister from view, though it was already too late. He stared through me as if I weren’t even there, as if he could still see Inara’s burning eyes through my skull. “Who are you?” I repeated, my voice rising. An unfamiliar sensation gripped me; I was hot and cold at once, my pulse a rickety thing, my blood careening through my body. Hope and fear clashed in a tangle of confusion.

  Then Inara touched my arm—as I often did to her—and stepped up beside me. “Who is he, Zuhra?” Her fingers trembled but she stood shoulder to shoulder with me, the picture of courage—of poise … if one ignored the dirt crusted around her nails, laced in the grooves of the skin on her hands, the streak of it across her cheek, her ill-fitting clothes, bare ankles, her hair cascading over her shoulders, loose and wild in the breeze.

  And her glowing blue eyes.

  “I don’t know,” I murmured below my breath.

  The stranger couldn’t take his gaze off her, which raised my hackles, the way our cat Louie’s ears flattened and his hair rose when he was agitated. But I couldn’t quite quell the curiosity that also swelled.

  “Why are you at our home?” Inara asked, more loudly this time.

  He blinked and visibly straightened, as if just realizing that he’d been staring at us—at her—in a daze for far too long. He was tall and angular, as if someone had stretched him a little bit further than they’d intended before he finished growing. His clothes were loose on his narrow shoulders and hips, but they looked fine enough, as if he’d purposefully had them made that way, rather than not having any other options like me and Inara. I scrambled to make sense of his sudden appearance in our garden. Sami was the only person the hedge had allowed through before. Why now—why him? My heart ricocheted off my ribs.

  “I’m sorry, my manners…” He shook his head, cheeks flushing as he folded his frame forward into a bow. “I am Halvor Roskery, a scholar and traveler.” He straightened and pushed one hand through hair the color of dust, somewhere between light and dark brown with a suggestion of auburn woven through.

  Halvor Roskery. My fingers twitched at my side; the rough fabric of Inara’s skirt brushed my skin.

  “And … you are?” he prompted, his gaze still trained on my sister.

  “Inara,” she said, her name coming out short, almost clipped. The tension radiating from her only amplified my own; she was shaking so hard I almost took her hand in mine to steady her.

  “I’m Zuhra.” It was so quiet in the courtyard … could he hear the thundering of my heart? “We’re Inara and Zuhra Montieth.” He’d told us his full name—was that what was expected? Mother had taught me needlepoint but failed to explain how to introduce myself. Montieth was her last name, from before marrying our father. She always told us she used her surname because he left us. But I suspected it was because he had no surname—no Paladin did, from what I’d gathered in my subversive research.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” He—Halvor—inclined his head once more, his eyes still on Inara.

  “Why are you here?” I knew it wasn’t polite, but my limited time with Inara was wasting away by the second. And he had yet to spare me a second glance.

  “Zuhra…” Her fingers sought mine and I clenched them tightly.

  “No, she’s right to be suspicious.” Halvor mistook Inara’s reaction as scolding, rather than seeking comfort. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” I echoed.

  “I am going about this all the wrong way. You must understand how … unexpectedly thrilling this is, though.”

  “Thrilling?” Stop repeating everything he says!

  “After years of study and planning and traveling, I’m finally here. I made it. And not only did I find the Citadel of the Paladin … I found … well … you.” He gestured to Inara.

  “You traveled for years to come here?” I tried to hide my shock at his casual naming of the citadel, but he didn’t even seem to hear me. So few wished to speak of the Paladin in any tone other than fear or anger—but he sounded … awed.

  The way he looked at Inara went beyond wonder, however, his expression bordering on worshipful. “In all my preparations and hopes, I never dreamed … I mean, to find her—here—alive and in the flesh. I’m sure you’re accustomed to it, being her … governess?”

  “What? No, I’m her sister.”

  “Sister?” he repeated, eyes wide. “That’s not possible.”

  “I assure you she is.”

  “But … you’re a human. And she’s”—Halvor paused and looked to Inara once more—“she’s a Paladin.”

  THREE

  It took me two beats of my beleaguered heart to respond, but finally I bit out, “You’ve made a mistake. And now you must leave.”

  Halvor reeled back as if I’d lashed out with my hands, not just my words.

  Mother’s plan of marriage for me had always seemed ludicrous—impossible, even; but suddenly there was a real, live potential suitor standing in our garden. With a remarkably square jaw, and a shadow of stubble, and he was so much taller than me … But all of Sami’s warnings through the years echoed in my heart, beating next to my own memories of the times soldiers or mobs had attempted to break through the hedge, while we huddled together inside the citadel, praying for our captor to also be our protector.

  I had to shut away my own hopes in order to protect my sister.

  I turned away from Halvor to face Inara, who had cocked her head to the side in that birdlike way of hers, watching him appraisingly. Already her eyes had grown brighter. It was to be one of her shorter episodes then; our time was running out. And I didn’t dare let him see my sister descend back into her other world—the one where no one could reach her.

  “Come, Inara, we must go inside. Sami is looking for us.”

  “She is?” Inara turned to me, confusion flitting across her face. Was it because of the sudden claim or because I was losing her already?

  My belly burned as hot as the fire in her eyes, fueled by frustration at this strange young man for showing up now, the first time I’d had my sister back in a week, stealing my preciously rare time with her.

  “Please, forgive me. I am sorry if I’ve offended you somehow. Master Barloc has chastised me endlessly for my overeagerness, but—”

  “You haven’t offended me, but we have to go,” I cut him off, without looking back.

  “Zuhra … I don’t believe he intends us any harm.” Inara’s voice was quiet, too soft for him to hear.

  “He will cause it whether he intends to or not.” All the years living sequestered in the citadel, just the four of us … what would happen now? It had been blessedly peaceful for almost eight years; no soldiers, no attacks on the hedge. But once he spread the word about what he’d seen, the rumors would flare up again, as would the alarm, the hate. Sami had warned me that the different peoples of Vamala believed the Paladin to all be gone from our lands—and they were glad for it. Better that they never learn of Inara’s existence, especially since we couldn’t leave the citadel regardless. Only the villagers of Gateskeep had any idea that there was possibly a half Paladin living at the citadel, and they kept it to themselves (so long as we kept to ourselves), wishing only for peace, according to Sami, and pretending we didn’t exist as much as they were able.

  I took Inara’s hand in mine and tugged her away from the strawberries that were now lusciously fat on their branches, hanging low like a woman’s swollen belly just before her time. Like the pregnant queen I’d seen in the book of fairy tales we
’d read as children, when she was lucid. Inara resisted, but only a little.

  “Good afternoon!”

  The pleasant call took us all by surprise and I whirled to see Mother striding toward us, what she clearly intended to be a welcoming smile wreathing her face. I hadn’t seen her smile in … quite some time. It didn’t look right, as if it had been so long since she’d attempted it that she couldn’t remember how to do it properly. Her lips stretched wide over her teeth, and her expression was eager, but her face lacked all the warmth of a true smile.

  “Good afternoon, Madam. I apologize for my unannounced arrival, but we believed the citadel to be abandoned. To find it occupied has been a pleasant surprise.” Halvor bent into a bow once more, this time aimed at her. My gaze flashed from Mother, to him, to Inara, and then back again.

  “That’s quite all right—we’re always happy to receive guests. Isn’t that right, my dear?” Mother looked to me with another attempt at a smile, but her eyes sparked dangerously. I understood her unspoken warning perfectly: this was my chance.

  “Oh … um, yes … of course,” I stammered.

  “What has brought you to our gate?” Mother turned back to Halvor. “I don’t recall you from the village.” This was a risk, as she hadn’t been to Gateskeep herself in at least fifteen years. But then again, no villager would have believed the citadel to be abandoned. They knew all too well that we lived here.

  “I am a scholar, Madam, apprenticed under Master Barloc—expert on the Paladin.”

  He was so eager to share his enthusiasm, he must not have noticed how my mother stiffened, her smile fading the moment he mentioned that forbidden word.

  “He has dedicated his life to studying them and their impact on Vamala. Together, we decided to travel here, to visit their—”

  “It is unfortunate, but you have made a mistake.” All pretense at welcoming him withered under the ice in Mother’s voice when she cut in.

  Halvor stuttered to a stop. “No … I, ah … I’m quite certain this is their—”

  “And now you must go.” Mother’s gaze turned flinty when it flashed to meet mine, skipped right over Inara, who had watched the entire exchange silently, to land back on Halvor. She grabbed him by the bicep and using every bit of strength in her tiny body—which I’d learned more than once was surprisingly considerable—began to drag him away from us, back to the courtyard.

  “I apologize if I have said or done something to alarm you, but I assure you I mean only to study the Paladin’s citadel. I mean it—and you—no harm!” Halvor protested, even as he allowed himself to be pulled away. Though he did throw a pleading glance over his shoulder.

  “No need to apologize. You are leaving. Now.” Mother’s voice carried on the parched breeze as she marched him away from us.

  “What’s happening? Who is that?” Inara’s voice was very small, unsure. I was losing her.

  “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, deliberating my options. I hated to lose any time with Inara, not knowing when I’d get more. But, acting on an impulse I didn’t fully understand and wasn’t sure was wise, I added, “Stay here,” and hurried after them. I’d told him to leave as well, only moments before, but the hint of desperation when he’d said he only wanted to study the citadel had unexpectedly struck a chord deep within me. A scholar who meant us no harm … who also happened to be an expert on the Paladin … and Mother was dragging him out of my life before I’d even realized I didn’t actually want him to go.

  Mother didn’t even glance back, practically breaking into a run in her desperation to be rid of him as quickly as possible.

  Who was this Halvor Roskery and why had he come in search of the citadel, when nearly all of Vamala had seemingly forgotten what the Paladin had done for them, and over the years had grown to fear them and the power they wielded? Fear, left to fester, turned to hatred, and according to Sami, that certainly was true when it came to the legends of the Paladin.

  But not to Halvor. He’d been more than eager to come here. He believed Inara to be a full Paladin and rather than fear or loathing, I’d never seen such excitement on a person’s face before.

  For some unfathomable reason, the hedge had allowed him through; Mother had forced me to spend my life preparing for the day this very thing happened. And now she was making him leave?

  Heat rose from the baked soil in unbearable waves, the dry earth stirred up into eddies of dust by their unrelenting charge toward the hedge and the gate still visible between the greenery. No matter the weather—drought or floods, heat or cold—the hedge never faltered, never wilted, never grew. The wall of greenery hid thorns as long and sharp as fangs that ran along every inch of the branches and vines beneath the lush leaves. Anyone intending to try and pass through it quickly learned of the threat beneath the beauty. An elegant, deadly prison warden.

  The dark iron of the intricately wrought gate was a deep shadow cutting through the blinding glare of the unfaltering afternoon sun. Still visible—still accessible. Mother quickened her pace, and for the first time, I noticed Halvor resist her ever so slightly.

  “Please, Madam, if you’ll only allow me to explain—”

  His voice carried over his shoulder, a whisper of words that I barely caught as I rushed to reach them before he was gone forever. But she jerked his arm forward, pulling harder than ever.

  “Mother, wait!”

  She flinched at the sound of my voice, but ignored me, doggedly pressing onward, almost at a run now, as if fearing the hedge would close over at any moment. I broke into a sprint—to do what, I wasn’t sure. I only knew I had to stop her, had to stop him, before he was gone forever. She’d spent years forcing me to sew and prepare and plan for a wedding that I’d believed impossible; and now the first time a boy was allowed past the hedge, she was throwing him out because he’d dared speak of the Paladin, without even giving him a chance. Had it all been a lie, then? A clever ruse intended merely to keep me busy?

  How did she intend to force him out, though, I wondered? If she had to drag him all the way to the gate, the hedge would surely block his exit, as it had never allowed her to leave. I could only hope that remained true and then the hedge I’d hated for so long would become my unwitting ally, buying me the time I suddenly wanted.

  But they hadn’t come close enough to be the cause when the hedge suddenly moved, rushing to close over the gate, hundreds of leafy, thorn-covered vines spreading across the dark iron like a stain, an otherworldly emerald blood blooming across the only view I’d ever had of the path leading to our home—and the older gentleman charging up it toward us.

  “You there! What are you doing with my pupil?”

  “Master Barloc! I’m sorry, I had to go ahead—”

  The older man—Master Barloc—and Halvor spoke simultaneously, but it was too late. I’d no sooner made out the craggy features of the other man’s face; the squint to his eyes, as if he’d spent too long reading books in low light; the gray-streaked hair he had tied back at the nape of his neck; his surprisingly wide shoulders underneath a dusty traveling cloak; when the hedge closed him out—and all of us back in.

  Including Halvor Roskery.

  FOUR

  “No!”

  If the hedge had been capable of fear, surely my mother’s bellow of rage would have forced it to shudder and retreat. Instead, it resolutely stayed shut, blocking off Halvor’s exit.

  I stared at Mother’s back, at her white-knuckled grip on Halvor’s arm, and then the impenetrable wall of green beyond them. Had she gone too close to the gate—or was it because of the gentleman on the other side, refusing him entry?

  “What have you done? What sorcery is this?” The older man—Master Barloc’s—shout reverberated through our stunned silence; the hedge could block his body, but not his voice. “I demand the release of my pupil at once!”

  “We did nothing. Your pupil is the one who trespassed.”

  Master Barloc, perhaps encouraged by the barrier, ignored Mother’s
unmistakable wrath and blustered, “He did no such thing. Halvor merely came to investigate what has long been told to be an abandoned property—”

  “This is our home—”

  “—and has unwittingly been taken hostage!”

  “Hostage?” The word burbled out of my mother’s throat as if she were choking on her own incredulity.

  “I didn’t see her do anything to control it,” Halvor called out, though he sounded more than a little alarmed at the wall of green that had cut off his exit. “She seems as upset by it as you are!”

  “What is going on?”

  I spun to see Inara hesitantly moving toward us, her eyes wide and bright—too bright. We were going to lose her again at any moment.

  “If this is truly your home, I demand you remove this—this abomination and let me in at once!”

  “That is beyond my power, or I can assure you I would have sent your ‘pupil’ out to you first!” My mother spat back.

  “Zuhra?” Inara’s voice was small, my name a plea. I stretched my hand out to her and she hurried forward to take it. Her fear was a palpable thing; her fingers clenched over mine as her gaze darted toward Mother, Halvor, and the hedge that trapped him here—with us. With her.

  “Then you leave me no choice.” Master Barloc’s ominous threat was followed by the sound of steel scraping against hardened leather. Was he carrying a sword? What kind of a scholar was he?

  “Sir, I wouldn’t—”

  Mother was cut off by the sound of his sword hacking into the hedge, followed immediately by his yowl of pain. For, as I assumed she had been attempting to warn him, this was no ordinary hedge, and when attacked, it attacked back. Viciously.

  “Witch!” Master Barloc screeched, the low thud of his sword falling to the earth a punctuation to his accusation. “Paladin witch!”

  “I am no such thing,” Mother hissed. If she’d been a snake, she would have been coiled as tightly as possible, ready to strike. I’d seen one once as a girl; curled up, tail quivering, making that unnerving rattling noise. Mother had been with me, luckily, and yanked me back before it could bite either of us. Louie the cat had appeared in the courtyard the very next day, as if the hedge had been aware of the danger I’d encountered, and I’d been given a very long lecture on the agonizing death that came from a snake bite. A death that it would seem my mother wished to inflict on Master Barloc now, if only she had the capability.