CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Shadow

“CALEDON HOLT! I’M HERE TO help you!” I try to break free from his grip but he’s too strong. “Stop! You’re hurting me!”

“You’re not the usual guard,” he says in my ear, pulling my arms tighter. He looks me up and down. “You’re not even a guard. Who are you? Why are you here?”

“Aren’t you ill?” I ask. He doesn’t show any signs of the disease he was supposedly suffering from minutes ago. He yanks my arms tighter behind my back.

“Ouch! Ease up a little.” I try to pull away from him but he only strengthens his grip again. “I’ve been looking for you. I’m here to get you out.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Or let me go. Seems like he’s trying to understand what I’ve said. This is not the dashing rescue I’d hoped it would be. If anything it’s already a disaster.

He pulls me with him over to the doorway and looks out into the hall. “Who’s with you?” he asks me.

“Nobody. I’m alone. The guards are playing cards tonight. That’s why I delivered the food. I was trying to find you. They’re full of ale, totally oblivious. I know where we can get horses.”

Caledon looks puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I told you. I’m here to get you out.”

He laughs. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that she sent you?”

“She who?”

“She who?” He laughs. “Who are you working for?”

“Let me go and I’ll show you.”

“That’s not going to happen. So either you start talking or . . .”

“Queen Lilianna sent me,” I finally tell him. That’s the only “she” he would believe.

“Prove it.”

A wolf howls off in the distance. We both turn our heads toward the window for a moment. But we’ll worry about the wilderness later; for now I have to manage to leave this cell in one piece. “Let go of me and I can. I have a royal work order.”

“A work order? Is that how we operate now?”

I’m unsure whether he’s referring to the palace or the Guild, but either way, simply being included in Caledon’s “we” thrills me. Still, I didn’t expect him to question me this way. I suppose it was foolish to believe my arrival alone would be cause for celebration. Lucky for me, I have the paper. “It’s in my pocket,” I tell him. He squeezes my wrists with his right hand and reaches into my back pocket with his left. My whole body tenses. “Other side,” I say. If he decides to search me for weapons, that could be rather awkward . . .

He pulls out the paper and opens it with one hand. “This is fake. A decent one, but fake all the same.”

The fact that he knows that instantly makes my stomach turn. The only reason I wasn’t caught straightaway is because the guard in the wagon was too dull-witted to notice. “We don’t have time to argue. Because there is someone in this prison who was sent here to kill you and it’s not me.”

He looks me up and down. That revelation didn’t get the reaction I wanted. “No, she wouldn’t send you. Who are you really?” He pulls on my wrist and twists it. “A spy?” he demands, scrutinizing my face.

“No!” I pull away from him. He lets me go this time. He does believe me, then. I snatch the paper out of his hand and put it back in my pocket. “I told you! You’re wasting time. The queen sent me to you for training. Getting you out was my first assignment.”

“You’re to be my apprentice?” He looks confused. “She knows I work alone.”

“Look, there’s nothing else I can do to prove it, but if you want to get out of here—”

“Well, first of all, how about giving me your name?” he says. “Since you already know mine.”

“Caledon,” I say, stalling for time.

“Name’s Cal,” he corrects. “No one calls me Caledon but my father and the queen.”

Reluctantly, I answer him. “My name is Shadow of the Honey Glade. My aunts Moriah and Mesha are part of the Guild.” He may not know me, but his father knew my aunts well. I wait for some kind of recognition, but none arrives.

“Shadow. Awfully unusual name for a boy, isn’t it?”

That’s all he has to say? He clearly doesn’t remember me or my aunts. My face burns red. “Maybe because I’m not a boy.”

Then I see it—his face lights up for the first time. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dirty scrap of fabric, holds it up for me to see. A bit worse for wear, but it’s the handkerchief I gave him in Serrone. “Do you know anything about this?”

“Of course I do. I gave it to you,” I say, and his face changes.

“Why?”

“You saved my life once. And now it’s my turn to save yours.”