When I open my eyes, I am alone in a lavish bedroom. Grandeur surrounds me on all sides: silk drapes adorn the bedframe and cover the windows, a thick carpet coats the floor, and the walls are papered with pretty floral designs that I feel are almost too nice for me to even look at.
I shove the crisp bedsheets aside and lift up the nightgown that someone has dressed me in. Cotton bandages are wrapped around my stomach, covering the wound that aches with a dull, persistent pain. Every breath is a struggle and every movement is a battle, but it's a battle that I have won.
Somehow, against all odds, I am alive.
I was prepared to give my life for Adrian's, though. It was my fault that he was in that predicament anyway. Had I never agreed to work as Victor's Shadow Thief, none of this would have happened. Victor would have had to have found some inferior disenthraller, or done the job himself. I would never have been captured, and Adrian would have never come to rescue me.
Why did he rescue me? Why did he care so much about what became of me? A memory drags itself into the light, one of Adrian expressing knowledge that I had come to this castle to take his life. If he knew that, why did he allow me anywhere near him? Why did he risk his very freedom to save me? He was prepared to make that trade: my life for his shadow. Why?
I struggle out of bed and stagger to the nearest wall, against which leans a tall mirror. Its gilded frame dips and swirls in a fanciful design, but for once I am more interested in my own reflection, rather than what surrounds it.
Dark shadows encircle my eyes, which I find oddly suitable. My hair is loose and hangs, limp, from my scalp in long, inky tendrils. My almond skin looks ashen and my lips have gone pale, even in the dim of this sun-blocked room. I look as awful as I feel. Haggard, almost, as though I have aged ten years in merely a day.
"The royal physician says you'll make a swift recovery."
I whirl around, and have to press my palm against the wall to steady myself as a sudden onslaught of dizziness spins my head.
Through the blurry tilt of the room, I see Morwen walking towards me with a silver tray in her hands. She sets it down on the mahogany bedside table, then grabs my arm and guides me back to bed. I slide between the cool sheets once more, propped up by a pile of pillows that Morwen stacks against the headboard.
"Here." She holds a glass of water to my lips. I can't control my hands well enough to be trusted not to spill it all over these satin sheets.
Before I take a sip, I glance at her face, wondering if her shadow has truly returned. She looks well: a hint of rosiness has returned to her cheeks, and she seems solid on her feet. I think her shadow found its way back.
"It's really me this time," she hastily assures me. "I promise...though I don't know how to prove it to you."
"You look right," is all I can manage to say. I take a sip of the water, then drink more deeply as I realize just how thirsty I am.
"You've been in and out of consciousness for two days," she tells me. "When the prince brought you here, you had lost a lot of blood. Her Grace and I feared you would die, but somehow you pulled through. The physician says you're strong. He was amazed that you lasted this long, but he's confident that you've seen the worst of it. At least, that's what he told us."
I groan as I remember the duchess. Morwen helps me drink another glass of water, after which I'm finally strong enough to speak properly.
"Ethel is going to kill me," I murmur. "In fact, I'm surprised she didn't already, when she had the chance."
Morwen's brow wrinkles. "What do you mean?"
"I failed her. I couldn't bring her the prince's shadow."
"Oh. Well, she's grown fond of you, Nyx. I think she's glad you're alive."
"Fond?" I ask. I can't imagine Ethel feeling anything that resembles fondness, not even for a real niece. And I have done nothing for her whatsoever.
"She'll find her way," says Morwen confidently. "I think I can convince her to sell some of her old gowns and jewelry. And who knows? Perhaps her mines may become profitable again one of these days."
"So she's given up on the prince?"
"Not given up, necessarily. But I think she's reconsidering. After all, she doesn't want to contend with someone as headstrong as he."
I laugh at that, but the pain in my side cuts me off. Adrian is certainly headstrong, but I think that might be one of the things I like most about him.
"I'll go tell her that you're awake," Morwen says. "She wants to see you."
"Will you come back?" I ask hastily. I could have faced the Lord of the Underworld again, all on my own, but I don't want to be alone with Ethel. She's not quite so dangerous, but perhaps ten times as vicious.
"If you wish it."
"Please."
Morwen smiles, gives me a small curtsey, then leaves the room. Ten minutes later, she returns with Ethel, who is dressed in an elaborate black mourning gown complete with a lace veil. When she sits down on the edge of my bed, however, she pushes the veil aside.
"The prince tells me that you killed Victor," she sniffs.
I glance at the diamond necklace around her throat. It's the one that he gave her. "I'm sorry, Ethel. I know how much he meant to you."
"Well," she sighs, "the gods will have their way, I suppose."
Her words press a frown onto my face. "You don't think I had a hand in it? I did stab him in the heart."
Ethel's complexion goes slightly green, and she raises a black lace-gloved hand to stop me. "Please, Nyx, spare me the details."
I agree with her. The thought of Victor's warm blood splattering over my face and the way his corpse fell to the ground turns my empty stomach. When I think of Adrian's and my last kiss, my stomach lurches. Why did I ask him to kiss me in that state? Why did he acquiesce?
Gracefully, the duchess changes the subject. "I want to give you a gift."
"Yes?" I ask.
"I want you to keep my gowns. The ones that Morwen altered for you."
Despite being altered, I still feel as though they don't quite suit me. But the gift is too generous and too selfless for me to refuse, especially coming from a woman like Ethel. "Thank you."
She smiles and rests her soft hand on mine. "You know, I did enjoy pretending that you were my niece. If you ever wish to come visit me in Vaelune, you would be welcome. It's much nicer there than Durnwall. When winter comes, I daresay you'll be tempted to take me up on my offer. The climate is much more welcoming than the dreariness of this little town."
"You're going home, then?" I ask.
"At the end of the week, I will return home," she says with a curt nod. "I did wish to be affianced by then, but it looks as though nothing will come of that."
"I'm sorry," I tell her again. After a short, thoughtful pause, I ask, "Ethel...do you still believe that Adrian will make a rotten king?"
She ponders my question for a moment, her eyes tilted towards the frescoed ceiling. "On his own, most certainly. But perhaps with the best people by his side, he may prove sufficient."
"Like you?"
"Me?" she scoffs. "Oh, no. I am much too selfish to give council to the highest in Itoria. There is nothing I would suggest that would not be self-serving."
I am taken aback by her self-awareness. I wonder if it is a sin or a virtue to be aware of who you are, yet not care enough to change it. At least Ethel knows who she is; I do envy her for that. I fear I've spent so much time in the shadows that I'm starting to become one. The parts of me that once shone in the light are fading.
"But as queen..." I say.
"Queen?" She tilts her head back and laughs delicately. "Do you think that Victor would have listened to a word I said?"
"And you would have been satisfied with that?"
"No. I need someone utterly devoted to me. What do you think Adrian would have been for? So long as he could be commanded to dote upon my every word, I would have been satisfied. Victor could have done whatever he pleased."
For the first time, I think I see the duchess for who she truly is. I then realize that my first assumption of what her greatest fear might beâagingâwas completely incorrect. Her greatest fear is, almost certainly, being alone and uncared for.
"You'll find someone," I say. There is no doubt in my mind that she will, either. She has a bigger heart than I could have recognized, had I never taken the time to get to know her.
"Yes, I'm sure I will." But she purses her lips, as though she isn't truly sure of it.
We fall silent. I count my labored breaths, wondering how many I will have to take before the pain subsides. By now, I've grown somewhat used to it, though it will severely inhibit me for some time. At least I still have Victor's advance in my room on Lockard Alleyâthat should tide me over for a while. I'll be able to rest for a bit before going back to work.
After tearing Dustin's shadow apart and trapping Adrian's, though, I'm not sure if I do want to continue to be the Shadow Thief. It might be too risky now that Grey knows who I am, anyway. I hate the thought that I'll just have to trust that she keeps my secret. I can't even speak to her whenever I want, either; she is one person who, if she doesn't want to be found, I don't think I'll be able to find her. She's as slippery as a severed shadow in my hands.
According to Morwen, the royal physician believes that I'll recover quickly. He said that I was strong. Well, I wonder how strong I truly am if I can't free my mind from the memory of Victor's corpse or Dustin's dying screams. I wonder what will become of a Shadow Thief who no longer steals shadows. There is no other work that I am suited for.
For an amusing moment, I wonder if Aliza Baxter is hiring.
"I was somewhat impressed with Adrian's recent behavior," Ethel says, breaking the silence. "He put his father to rest quickly, with all the proper rites and with little fuss. At the funeral, he shed no tears, which I believe was valuable in showing the people his strength."
It would also give them hope that he would be different from his father, if he didn't mourn King Thurstan's death so deeply in public. I know he was distraught, though. I hope someone was there to comfort him afterwards.
"When was the funeral?" I ask.
"Yesterday."
As much as I pity Adrian for losing his father, I'm glad that I had an excuse not to attend. It would have felt wrong to even pretend to mourn the death of a man who made my life so miserable, a man who played a direct role in ending my parents' lives. Try as I might, I can't bring myself to come up with a single shred of sadness for his death. All of my sadness belongs to Adrian alone.
"Adrian might find it useful to have someone from the town by his side," Ethel says, giving me a sidelong glance. "Someone who knows what it's like to live in filth with the rest of the rabble."
I push aside my initial reaction to her crude phrasing. "He could ask anyone in town. I'm sure they would be willing to make him privy to everything they believe is the matter with Durnwallâand Itoria, too."
"Someone he cares about."
"Believe me, Ethel, he won't want to see me," I sigh. "I think I've hurt him enough already."
"Is that what you think?" She smiles. "Oh, Nyx. You really don't know him at all, do you?"
"It does feel that way," I admit. It has always felt that way. No matter how close to him I get, there's always some part of him that he keeps guarded, some mystery that he's wholly unwilling to share. While I briefly knew his greatest fear, I still feel as though there's some piece that's missing. Perhaps it's time to resign myself to the fact that I may never uncover that piece.
"Talk to him. You may be surprised by what he says."
I shake my head, insisting, "He won't want to see me."
"Fool," she snaps impatiently. "Do you not realize that he was in this room, right by your side, as the physician sewed up your wound? He spoke to you all the while, begging you to stay alive, although he had no idea whether you could hear him or not. And in the rare moments that you were just barely conscious, he was the one who sat you up and fed you water. The only reason he's not here right now is because he knows that you're alive and his kingly duties have dragged him away. Tell me you understand."
I gape at her, dumbfounded. "Are...are you not jealous, Ethel?"
She leaps to her feat, impassioned by irritation. "Jealousy will not goad me into keeping this information to myself! And if I cannot have Adrian, there is no one more deserving of him than you."
I have to take a moment to dwell on all that she has revealed to me. It must have been Adrian's voice that saved me from the shadows, he who dragged me back to life. He stayed by my side, as though I was someone worth watching over. It's almost too much to take in. I lean back against my pillows, exhausted.
"Think on it," she tells me. "And be wise, Nyx. Don't let your pride keep you from something beautiful."
Ethel leaves the room in a rush of silken skirts and fluttering lace. Before Morwen follows, she offers me a timid smile and says, "Get some rest, Nyx."
What I want to do is think on it, as Ethel suggested. I want to think of Adrian, and puzzle through what I feel for him and what he seems to feel for me. But pain and exhaustion render that impossible and, in only a few short minutes, I am asleep again.
I'm not sure how long I sleep, but when I wake, the curtains are drawn and the room is illuminated by pale moonlight. Through the tall glass windows to my immediate left, I can see the stars glittering in the sky, winking at me just as Adrian sometimes does.
A glass of water sits on my bedside table, waiting for me. I take it and drink it all in one go, wetting my parched tongue and satisfying my empty stomach. Morwen must have left it here for me. I thank the gods for her; she is truly the kindest person I have met in my time here.
As I set the glass back down, I notice a piece of parchment, folded in fourths. When I open it, I immediately recognize Adrian's jagged cursive.
Dearest Nyx,
I hope this letter finds you safe and in as little pain as your current situation allows. You may think this odd, but I feel it is only right to inform you that you have not left my mind for a single moment these past few days. Do with that knowledge what you will; it belongs to you now, just as my heart is yours and yours alone.
The duchess told me that you were conscious enough to hold a conversation with her earlier. I will take that as a hopeful sign that you are well on your way to a full recovery. If it offends you that I have not yet come to see you, I beseech you to forgive me. My pride tells me that it would befit a king to lie and say that I am much too busy for a spontaneous visit, and to simply beg your forgiveness for the unintended slight, but I still do not much feel like a king. On the contrary, I feel like a boy whose heart has grown larger than his brain, so I will tell you the truth: I am desperate to see you.
However, considering how we were unfavorably forced to leave things, I see it fit for me to keep a respectful distance at this time, unless you specifically request my presenceâwhich I am happy to give, of course, at your convenience, whether that be twelve midnight or twelve noon, while I am in the bath or halfway through the forest on Hector's back, or whenever else you see fit. I am entirely at your disposal.
If you do wish to see me, please send word. I will wait anxiously to hear from you. Should you decide that you are better off without my affections, I will ensure that you are provided with every possible comfort until you depart from this castle. Either way, you are welcome to stay for whatever length of time suits you.
Yours devotedly, through this life and the next,
Adrian
My heart soars, and despite the lateness of the hour I am tempted to send for him right away. I am potentially justified by his attestation that he will see me at any time, but I know that it would be better to wait. He must be exhausted, and it would be inconsiderate to interrupt his sleepâespecially after all he's done for me. No; I have to wait until morning.
Part of me is relieved that I have some time between reading this letter and seeing him to prepare myself, especially since his words all but say, "I love you." I need time to come to terms with this, along with whatever I might feel towards him. When next I speak to him, there will be no more hiding in the shadows, no more lies, and no more Shadow Thief. There will only be me, raw and bare before him, presenting myself as I am and not as I once was.
To face his love means that I must first face myself.