Shadowguard

It was as if he stepped from the shadows themselves, the darkness coiled so tightly around his frame that she couldn't say where it ended and he began. If not for the hint of pale skin visible beneath the hood of his cloak and the scruff around his jaw, she'd think he was an animated shadow. Or perhaps a ghost.

"You're remarkably perceptive. That's not a good trait for someone as careless as you."

His voice was rough, low in both timbre and volume. It carried the melodic lilt typical of the kingdom, but with a pretentious flare most often found in the more notable parts of the capital. It wasn't at all what she expected.

Not that she expected anyone to barge into her cell unannounced.

"Who... How did you...?"

He snorted. "Through the shadows."

Everna bit the inside of her cheek. Magic was far from uncommon, but casters were rare in the outlying regions, and the few to be found were trifling. They were bards and aspirant practitioners with delusions of grandeur, capable of party tricks and little else. Those with any skill were the hunters and druids blessed by the nature deities.

In the capital, however, mages were more than abundant. The academy dedicated much of its funding to the study of magic and to its casters. She'd seen everything from brilliant balls of roiling flame to ghastly apparitions conjured with nothing but a few words and a flourish of hands. Once, a student created an illusion of a dragon so realistic the academy had to issue a formal apology to the public.

But magic that allowed one to blend into the shadows — to move through them, even — was not a magic she'd seen before.

"I noticed," she said at length. "Why?"

A heavy, unsettling silence preceded his response. She felt his gaze on her, the intensity of it enough to send a shiver down her spine. Drawing her legs to her chest once more, she pressed further against the wall, desperate to put some distance between them. It was a futile endeavor. The cell was as wide as her outstretched arms, perhaps five feet across and no more.

And there she was, bound and unarmed, with a man whom she was certain had been leering at her throughout the night.

Aim for the balls, she thought. That's what her father always told her.

"You didn't kill Mayor Ashburn."

Everna rolled her eyes. "Come to that conclusion all on your own, did you? I would hope so; it's not as if you weren't skulking in a corner the whole time."

"Consider yourself fortunate I was," he said. "Otherwise, you'd already be dead."

The shadows shifted, and she scowled. "Take one step towards me and I'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be tasting the bottom of my boot for a week."

"Feisty, aren't you?" he asked in a way that she couldn't tell was patronizing or amused. "Somehow, I don't think your legs could reach from there."

"Unfortunately for you, I'm not chained to the wall," she shot back. "You have thirty seconds to explain what you're doing in my cell before I scream for the guards."

The shadows moved again as he tilted his head — not shadows, she realized, but his cloak. "You think they'd care?"

She'd like to think some of them wouldn't be so quick to point the finger, but given the circumstances, it was an idealistic belief. Half the town seemed convinced she was guilty. Everna didn't blame them; she'd be just as furious if someone else were in her position, but it hurt no less. The townspeople, many of them she'd known her whole life, turned on her in an instant or kept their silence. Only two or three tried to say anything.

Not that it mattered. Windmore clearly had no intentions of considering the possibilities. She'd think he was responsible, if she thought he was intelligent enough to pull it off.

"No, but with the way you're slinking about the shadows, I have the sneaking suspicion you're not supposed to be in here."

Again, he snorted. "That would make two of us. Yet, I have a feeling you are supposed to be here, but not for the reason everyone believes."

"Get to the point before I decide to test how far my legs can reach."

"You'll hang for this. Undoubtedly. You'll be dead within the week."

To that, Everna laughed. "Clearly you know nothing about the Courts. It'll be a week before—"

"You don't understand what's happening at all, do you?" His voice held a sharpened edge, an icy undercurrent that tightened the sickening knot in her stomach. "You're being charged with treason. The Courts have already decided the verdict."

Everna recoiled. "What?!"

That couldn't be true. On what grounds could Windmore claim treason? And how could the Courts know about it? She couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. There was no way the Courts received word of the matter that quickly and absolutely no way they would issue a verdict without a trial.

"That's not possible," she argued. "I know the Courts rather well. There's no way—"

"This isn't an isolated incident," the man said. "Arden Ashburn is but one victim of a recent slew of assassinations in this part of the kingdom. Something's happening, and the Courts are eager to stop it before it spreads further."

"But I didn't do it!"

"It doesn't matter. They want to make an example out of you. To let the kingdom know that man or woman, innocent or guilty, anyone suspected of involvement in this matter will have their rights suspended and will face the full penalty of the law until the Courts are sure they've gotten the right ones."

"I don't believe a word of this," she said. It was too drastic and too exaggerated of a response. "They legally cannot do that. They don't have that kind of power."

"The Courts declared a state of emergency two months ago. At the moment, they have that power," he said. "And that's the problem. You're not getting out of this. Not without help."

Everna worried at her lip. None of this made sense. While she no longer had a direct connection to the Courts, she had friends in the capital who did, and she hadn't heard a word of this. None of the travelers mentioned it either. She would think something that significant would've reached the rumor mill by now.

"And you think you can help me?"

"You're more useful to me, and the Courts, alive," he said.

"What do you want from me?"

A brief flicker of a smile touched his lips. "Your cooperation when the time comes. You might not have killed Mayor Ashburn, but someone wants everyone to think you did. I want to know who and why, and you might be the key to figuring it out."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I'll assume you are involved, and it won't be the noose at your neck, but my blade. The choice is yours."

"I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

Gods, she hated that saying. There was some truth to it, she supposed, but it most often came from a place of ignorance. She had a choice, but when both roads led to the same outcome, it was only an illusion of such. If there was a grain of truth in his words, she would die regardless.

If she refused, he'd kill her. If she agreed and, against her better judgment, placed her trust in a shady stranger with a personal agenda, she'd likely meet her end the same way, either by his blade or by the consequences of whatever he demanded of her. She could die knowing she hadn't a chance, or she could die with the shattered hope of believing she could save herself.

The only choice she had was in the way she wanted it to end.

Everna shook her head. "You expect me to believe you can miraculously convince the Courts to forestall my execution?"

"I have my ways," he said. "While you would certainly make things easier, I don't need your help. You, however, won't get out of this on your own."

He was right, and she hated it. If the Courts truly waived her rights and decided her verdict, there would be no opportunity to discuss the matter. They'd put her to the gallows before she could state her defense.

Unless she had the name of the culprit and irrefutable evidence to prove her innocence, she hadn't a chance in hell.

But could she trust his word?

Should she trust his word?

Was trust even a consideration at this point?

Her only chance of salvation came with strings attached; he could ask anything of her and the consequences could be dire. He might help her situation, or he might make it worse. Her decision may save her life, only to condemn it in another way.

When she didn't respond immediately, he said, "I'd be quick about it if I were you. You have less than a minute before the guards wake up, and if they hear you talking to someone, you'll be in even more trouble."

"I told you, I don't have a choice," she said with no small amount of bitterness. "Still, I'm not stupid. I'm not agreeing to anything until I have proof what you say is true and the Courts forestall my execution."

"You're not in a position to negotiate."

She hefted her chin and stared him down with as much courage and defiance as she could muster. "I'm dead either way, it seems. If you can spare me the noose, then I'll cooperate, but until then, I don't know who you are and I've never spoken to you."

He was silent for several moments. Then he laughed. It wasn't a loud thing, hardly more than a breathy chuckle.

"You're smart, I'll give you that. All the more reason I expect you to hold to your word. If you don't, well, I think you already know what the consequences are."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows once more.