Reign of Shadows by Sophie Jordan Page A

I would start to cry and I wouldn’t be able to stop. I should have given her more ribbons. A sob welled up in my throat. I should have done that. I should have done more.
    â€œLuna!” I realized Sivo had been saying my name.
    I nodded jerkily. “Yes. I’m fine.” I continued tearing the nisaninto bits. Satisfied that I had enough, I moved the pot to the hearth, brushing past Fowler and hooking it into place so that it could reach a proper boil. I returned to the table and began weaving the herbs onto twine for drying.
    â€œCan you stop for a moment?” Sivo asked.
    I shook my head. “We need to get this into Madoc.” Considering what had just happened, his will to fight the fever plaguing him was likely low.
    â€œWell, you’ve set the pot to boil now. The rest can wait.” Sivo’s heavy steps advanced on me anyway. He pulled me away from the table and into his arms. I resisted, but his arms wrapped around me. For the first time, I noticed that his biceps and forearms weren’t like before. When I was younger they reminded me of tree trunks, so solid and strong. Now they were half that size. Somehow over the years they had diminished. I hated this. I hated the evidence of his age and growing frailty.
    I relaxed against Sivo, conscious of Fowler in the room. I could feel his eyes on me. I imagined he thought this display of emotion weak. He wouldn’t succumb like this. He was too hardened.
    Madoc’s sobs floated from my bedchamber and I stiffened in Sivo’s arms.
    â€œNever thought I’d be happy to have you disobey me,” he said against my hair, his bearded cheek rustling the strands. He meant me sneaking out of the tower. I tried to smile, but the curve of my lips felt brittle and pained.
    I inhaled, smelling the molding stone. This place hadhemmed me in all my life, but for once, I was glad for its walls.
    Not that it had saved Dagne.
    I pulled back from Sivo’s embrace. Fowler stood near the hearth, holding his hands out to the fire. I could smell the salt on his warming skin. I suppose he was accustomed to death.
    I sucked in a deep breath, something new occurring to me.
    If Fowler hadn’t come, then I would have been here when those soldiers came. It could have been me instead of Dagne.
    Also perhaps he wasn’t as selfish as he claimed. He had led me to the nisan weed, and he had pulled me back on that hilltop when I wanted to charge into that group of men.
    â€œIt’s all right, love.” Sivo’s large hand patted my back. “We will be fine.”
    It was with that assurance that I knew we would not be fine. The tower was no longer hidden. We were no longer hidden.
    Our world had changed.
    I sat near the fire, my hands folded tightly in my lap. It was the only way to keep them from shaking—or hide the fact that they shook at all. I focused on stilling all of me, listening as Madoc’s cries turned to muffled sobs and then nothing at all.
    Perla emerged from the room. “He’s asleep. I put a sleeping draft in with the nisan tea.”
    I envied him the oblivion of sleep. I thought of Dagne below, broken and lifeless near the door we never used.
    Except today we had opened the door.
    Perla moved beside my chair, and the earthy musk of herbsand baked bread enveloped me. She rested her thick, chapped palm on my shoulder.
    I reached up to pat her hand.
    â€œThey’ll be back,” Sivo announced.
    â€œYou can’t know that,” Perla objected, a sharp, defensive ring to her voice.
    â€œThey’ve found the tower now. They’ll tell others. Either they’ll be back or someone else will. And that commander . . . he recognized me.”
    â€œWhat?” Perla demanded. “Did he say—”
    â€œHe couldn’t place where. He must have been a very young boy when I worked in the palace, but mine isn’t the easiest face to forget.” He was referring to his heavy beard.