A Song of Faithless Shadows

28. Robbed

Gwyneth

I missed out on a good bit of strategizing in pursuit of a warm bath following the challenge. The inner circle had set up in the house of wind to discuss tactics, and with Keir's men secured, it was a matter of timing.

I needed a moment to myself, several moments perhaps, though my sisters had offered to come sit and keep me company while I bathed. The Shadowsinger even offered to lend his shadows to me too while I got cleaned up, that way I could listen in. I had refused them all, saying I wouldn't be long anyway.

And it was a blatant lie.

I had no intentions of coming back out tonight. I wasn't rattled by what I had done so much as how I had done it. The way I had killed him had been particularly violent, though necessary, and the worst part is I had to restrain myself from doing worse. I had planned to drown him initially, but gods, what a cruel, slow way to go. But bashing his head in had been a move of guttural desperation.

Had I had anymore presence of mind, I could've easily evaded him beneath the surface. I could have easily ran my sword through his neck in a single concise cut. But no, the second he had me pinned beneath him, I went into survival mode, and I lost all constructive thought.

I didn't want to be celebrated for it.

By the time I've finished bathing, it's clear that everyone has either retired to their bedrooms or gone home. The house was quiet as she gently offered me some chai tea to ease my headache. Thanking her, I take it to the balcony, jumping to see the Shadowsinger. I knew our balconies were parallel, but gods, I hadn't expected to see him.

"Cassian tells me I should start wearing a bell," he offers me as I catch my breath, still blending into the dark. "Or a brightly colored hat."

"No, it pains me to say that one's on me," I say, recovering. "Your shadows told me you were out there. I just wasn't paying any attention."

"They told you?"

I nod, sipping my tea.

"They don't usually tell things to people other than me," he comments, studying me out of the corner of his eye.

"Then what's so wrong with me?" I ask. So damn protective of me. Have I not proven I can take care of myself?

"I assume they simply do it to antagonize me," he offers.

"And here I thought you were their master."

"I think, rather, they are mine," he says instead. "At times."

"Well, why do they talk to me?" I ask. "Don't tell me I'm a Shadowsinger-"

He laughs before I even finish my sentence.

"What's so funny?" I cross my arms.

"You're not a Shadowsinger," he wipes his eye, still laughing.

"What because I'm not dark and brooding like you?"

"You're not a Shadowsinger," he says, grinning as he leans against the railing. "I don't know what you are, but you aren't like me."

"What I am?" I echo.

"That came out wrong," he retorts.

"It always does," I say back.

"That's because you twist my words," he accuses.

"That's because you give me too many chances to," I counter, and he smiles.

"Are you okay?" He asks me softly.

I groan. "Don't ask me that."

"Why not?" His brows scrunch.

"Because I don't want to answer."