Shadowguard

Wil led her into the alley across the street, and from there, to the northwestern quadrant. The further they went, the more uncertain she became. There were only three things of interest in that part of town. The town hall loomed in the distance, the upstairs windows in the northern corner illuminated. A quarter mile away stood the Guard post, a towering shadow against the night sky, and behind it, the barracks. The rest was residential.

She bit the inside of her cheek. It was the last place she wanted to be. If anyone caught her near the Guard post at this hour, there'd be no getting out of it. Sir Swiftbrook might understand her intentions, but she'd put him in a precarious position. With the recent charges of murder — nay, treason — levied against her, he'd have no choice but to condemn her to maintain the secrecy demanded by the Courts.

Windmore would never let it slide.

Wil stopped two side streets short of the post. "I assume you haven't seen the records from that night?"

"Why would I have? I don't have permission to access them," she said. "Besides, the ones I'd think are of any value are missing."

A sharp huff, a sound somewhere between amusement and irritation, escaped his lips. "You're not at the academy anymore. No one's going to hand you the answers."

"I'm aware of that, but I can't just waltz into the Guard post. I'd never make it past the door!"

"Then don't use the door."

Everna shook her head. "Are you suggesting I break into the post? Are you trying to get me killed?!"

She could not risk it, no matter how valuable that missing information might be. If the Courts saw reason to believe she was interfering, they'd hang her without hesitation and Windmore would leap at the chance to twist the facts. Wil may as well hang her himself.

Wil turned to face her, his head cocked. "You're already wearing the noose. If you want out of this mess alive, you’ll have to break a few laws."

"The end does not justify the means." Not when those means might mean she never saw the end justified.

"Tell that to the ones who put you in this position."

"I'd be no better than them."

He made a sound at the back of his throat. "Look, sweetheart, you won't get far clinging to moral superiority. You thinking you're a better person than they are won't stop the hangman from pulling the lever."

"But—"

"Rules only work on those who follow them," he continued, a sharpened edge to his voice. "The ones who framed you don't care about the laws unless they stand to benefit from them. You won't get out of this by playing by the rules."

"That's not the issue," she snapped. "I know the Courts! If I'm not careful about how I do this, even if I avoid the noose for treason, I may still find it around my neck for something else! I am not breaking into the Guard post!"

He gritted his teeth. “Someone wants you dead. Not defamed. Not imprisoned. Hanged. And the Courts are not on your side."

"All the more reason not to be stupid!" she argued. "If you'd just wait until morning, I could—"

"Gods leave me. No wonder the Inquisitor had no faith in you," he said. "This isn't up for discussion. You're going to get your ass into that post before I lose my patience, or I'm going to assume you're trying to keep me out."

"Why do I have to go with you? If you're that set about going in, why can't you do it alone?"

"Because now I don't trust that you're not up to something," he said. "There might be information in there that could end this case in the morning and, yet, you seem to want nothing to do with it."

She released a slow, deliberate breath. "Fine. If this goes horribly wrong, it's entirely your fault. How do you propose we get inside?"

Aside from the barracks, the Guard post was the most defended position in the city. He might have the means to enter undetected, but she hadn't exaggerated; she'd never make it past the door. There was usually one member of the Guard on either side.

"I have my ways."

Before she could ask how, he seized her by the hand.

A sudden weightlessness took hold of her and with it came a darkness so deep she'd thought a gaping void had swallowed her whole. Though she could no longer feel the chill of winter or the ground beneath her feet, she felt the weight of something bearing down upon her — an invisible force pushing against her from all sides.

As quickly as it vanished, the world snapped into sharp focus. Gone was the darkened street and starlit sky, replaced with stone floors and a wooden ceiling. Rather than burning oak, the scent of dust and old paper invaded her nose.

Then came the vertigo. Everna’s head spun. Her heart switched places with her stomach. The weightlessness returned, only this time, she crashed into an ungraceful heap on the floor, her head cradled in her hands as the ground careened beneath her.

It took several moments (which felt like an eternity) before she could lift her head without feeling woozy. When she did, she found not the wall, but a pair of green eye staring back at her. They were the color of the forests in spring, a deep but vibrant shade of emerald.

It was oddly soothing.

"You handled that better than I expected," Wil said, a half smile tugging at his lips. "You didn't even throw up."

"Don't be too sure about that.” She swallowed, tasting bile in the back of her throat. "What did you do?"

"Planetrace."

Everna closed her eyes as another bout of dizziness washed over her. "Never do that again."

"Hey," he said, tapping her cheek, "eyes open. Trust me, closing your eyes makes it worse."

Against her better judgment, she forced her eyes open once more. This time, a tousled mop of dark brown waves greeted her. Wil sat turned to the door, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

A few seconds later, he relaxed.

When the room finally ceased spinning, she released a shuddering breath and turned to observe her new surroundings. Wooden shelves stuffed with boxes overflowing with papers spanned the far wall. A small, rickety table dominated the corner to her left, its surface cluttered with old maps, worn posters, and tattered recruitment fliers. Beyond a couple of dusty crates in the adjacent corner, there was nothing else of note.

They were inside the post.

"This looks like a junk room," Wil said. "Damn. They must've moved the rooms around. Last time I was here, this was the archives."

"I think we went far enough," Everna grumbled.

She climbed to her feet, slow and unsteady. Using the wall as leverage, she forced her unwilling legs to extend, her knees still weak. It was another several moments before she took a tentative step forward.

"I don't suppose you know where they moved the records to?" he asked.

When he turned to face her, she paused. His face held the hallmarks of mixed heritage; the slight upward tread to the corners of his eyes, his high cheekbones, and his angular jaw spoke of elvish blood, but the scruff that covered the bottom half of his face suggested he had at least one human parent.

Though not unwelcome in Inverness, as the kingdom's first queen was allegedly one herself, Everna had never seen a half-elf before. It was a deadly combination in some parts, she'd heard, and for that reason, most texts suggested they avoided civilizations. Those texts also claimed the difference between an elf and a half-elf wasn't always apparent.

If not for the beard, she'd have thought he was an elf.

"You done staring, or should I show you my good side?"

"Says the man who spent an entire night staring at me," she said. "I wasn't staring, either. I'm just trying to keep my dinner in my stomach."

Wil snorted. "If you insist. I suppose you didn't hear the question then?"

Everna shook her head and regretted it immediately. "No, I don't know where the Guard keeps the records."

"Guess we're doing this the hard way then.” He pulled a ring from his finger, a plain and unassuming silver band. "Don't use that unless I tell you to. Stay behind me and try to walk more quietly, will you? You're about as graceful as an orc."

Everna snatched the ring from his hand and slipped it onto her finger, surprised to find it fit. "Is that elvish humor or are you being an ass?"

"Both."