Or in this case, two.
Xenia and Guin, understandably, held the next most complicated jobs. The most unusual thing about the bodyguards was the way their respective appointments flouted conventions. That both regents had chosen members of the opposite sex to protect them had stirred up quite a bit of a fuss, and even more snide speculation. It was dying down with time, as most sensationalism did, but it was still a much debated issue when opponents of the Chancellors ran out of things to squawk about.
But regardless of the gossip, no one could deny either warrior as being the best at what they did. Publicly, they were called “bodyguards,” but they often did much more than that. Not that placing their lives in the roles as shields to the two hottest political targets in their society wasn’t enough, but facts were facts. They were food tasters, inspectors of every detail the regents came into contact with, and always expected to know every detail about anyone who was to be in the royal presence. They were also bosom companions and confidants to their charges, the nature of their jobs making them the most readily available resource to confide in when things came up in the personal life of the Chancellers, who were afforded little privacy and even less trust of those outside the regime. Sometimes the warriors were, at the softest whisper of permission from their masters, private assassins. As the twins grabbed a firmer foothold on their reign, things like that were less necessary, but in the beginning it had been the only way to deal with the most aggressive enemies who had sought their heads.
But the clan wars were over now, for the most part, and for the first time in a great many decades the Shadowdwellers were united beneath a single ruling body. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t still opposition out there that endangered the stability of the Chancellery, and Trace’s encounter with Baylor had more than proven that.
“Rika wasn’t feeling well and she retired early,” Malaya informed him as she reached for the over-blouse she had shed before she began dancing. She slid on the embroidered charmeuse, pulling it closed around her chest. “What is troubling you, Ajai?”
“I have killed Baylor,” he confessed softly.
Chapter 4
Trace was wandering the street in the dark, a habit he had when he was trying to think something through. It was like a deadly sort of game, or perhaps the Shadowdweller version of extreme sports. Striding from shadow to shadow, avoiding the rims of light that flooded the city streets. His steps were light and quick, his body movements as fluid as the inky sections of dark that protected him from certain agony—even death if he were exposed long enough or fully enough.
But it wasn’t this, nor was it Baylor’s treacherous attack on him that nagged at his thoughts and conscience. In truth, he couldn’t seem to get the haunting image of the fair and fragile Ashla out of his head. A large part of the issue, he supposed, was his indebtedness to her. The bald fact of the matter was that she had saved his life. And, as Malaya had wisely pointed out a short time ago, she had saved the lives of his regents as well. Had he died in Shadowscape, there would have been no one to warn them of the plot that brewed against them. There was very little information to work from as it was, but very little was far more than none at all.
As a religious woman, Malaya was also fascinated with the Lost woman’s ability to see Trace and his enemy, as well as her fascinating corporeal attributes. The Chancellor did not believe in coincidences, but she felt quite strongly about divine providence. To her mind, Darkness had provided the impossible for Trace at just that moment to help him, and it was very hard for him to argue. By the time he had left the royals, Malaya had all but asked him to return to Shadowscape and try again to seek this woman out, and perhaps some answers as well.
A preposterous idea, of course. The city, and all of Shadowscape for that matter, was far too enormous to ever hope to run into a single individual again without it being planned…never mind the fact that she would probably try to hide from him if she caught the slightest hint that he was looking for her. But if he could thank her for what she had done, maybe then his mind would rest a bit. Maybe then he could focus once again on the more critical issues instead of this grating regret for having upset her.
“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand back through his hair.
He stopped where he was, looking around himself and then at the sky. He could sense the coming day, the lightening of the area too miniscule for human perception but an ingrained alarm to all of his Shadowdweller senses. If he crossed into Shadowscape now, he would be trapped within it until the fall of darkness the next night. This, too, he would sense instinctively, which kept him from crossing out into light by accident because his perception of time had otherwise been toyed with by the alternate dimension.
Trace couldn’t believe he was actually considering doing this ridiculous thing. But apparently that was why he had returned to the site of his fight with Baylor. He had made up his mind long before he was aware he was even considering the action.
Trace closed his eyes, leaned back deeply into the darkest of shadows, and slowly began to pull that darkness into himself. He could feel the night entering him first, its weakening hold on the world easily felt in the way it vibrated through him like the tantrum of a furious child. Then there was the tart taint of light that trimmed the edges of the shadows, creating them as much as it destroyed them at whim. It cut through his palate like the rusty taste of blood on the tongue, filling him with an overwhelming urge to spit. It passed quickly enough, though, and soon all there was were the wraiths of blackness that tugged and pulled him toward Shadowscape. He held his breath, like a diver swimming through an underwater tunnel that led from one section of a cove to another one that lay hidden beyond it.
He surfaced in Shadowscape with a gasped draw for breath, a reflex when it took a while to cross. The process was drawn out, depending on how dark it really was around the traveler. The lights of the city and the dawn had pushed the limits of what was safe, and it had been much more taxing on his inner energy to leave from such an unsuitable launching point.
But he was safe now, the utter darkness of the ’scape a pure delight. It would rejuvenate him in time, to the point of euphoria. Of course, like anyone else, he would have to leave once he reached that point. There was a reason why ’Dwellers didn’t just stay in Shadowscape all of the time, and it fell under the category of too much of a good thing.
Trace looked around himself slowly, orienting his eyesight to the darkness it was intended for. In Realscape, Shadowdwellers were all a little bit “blind.” Unless there was perfect darkness as far as their eyes could see, the shedding of light caused an ache and even sometimes a blur in their eyes. They were prone to terrible headaches, quite often full-blown migraines. Still, those were minor weaknesses and were gladly endured for times like these, where perfect darkness spread the world out before them in brilliant, vivid colors and details. He imagined that this was what humans saw in their daylight worlds, only what he could see was probably much better. He had never heard of a human who could easily see for blocks at a time, see in infrared, and even have enough intuitive sight to know what was lying around corners…at least for the first couple of feet.
Normally, none of this would have been likely to help him as he looked for a Lost woman in Shadowscape, but this woman gave off very real heat and quite vibrant energy.
Still, he was hit with a bolt of surprise when he immediately caught sight of a slight-figured female less than half a block away from where he stood. She had returned to the scene of the fight as well! As delighted by that as he was, Trace couldn’t help but wonder why she would do that. Was she looking for him? Or was she merely gawking at the scene of his gruesome act like so many humans always seemed so fascinated with doing?
There was only