Conquest

Shadow - Part Three

The rags fell to the ground with a weak thump. White hair cascaded down thin shoulders like wild waterfall, and unruly, frosty locks caressed the woman's gentle face. Her eyes were bare now, painted hard silver and twice as chilling than Shadow's single one, inside them the light of the torches danced wildly.

Solomon stood, dumbfounded. Not for the woman's appearance, which indeed was horribly beautiful. Her skin was soft, aside from the lovely and tiny wrinkles of laughter under her eyes. Her lips were velvet red, yet thin, and her cheek bones high and sharp. She looked at Solomon determined, but he saw on her face warmth and innocence she didn't tried to hide. That woman was not a murderer like Savage, and perhaps Solomon could use that fact.

Yet his mind avoided any other thoughts on that matter, due to the astonishing surprise that crashed upon him and left him rooted in his place, dumbstruck, and that is that Shadow, the terrorizing and bloodcurdling man that stood before him mere seconds ago, was, in fact, a woman.

For a few seconds he just stood, shamelessly staring at her with amazement. Then she raised her brow in question and Solomon shook his surprise away.

"Who are you?" He managed to spit out.

"Who am I?" She repeated with a chuckle, her voice gentle and enchanting, "I was here this whole time, master Solomon. You saw me take off those rags. I am still the person I was moments ago."

"You are... Shadow?" He asked, and she nodded, "but... How? I mean, he, his voice, your-"

"Magic, your highness," she said with almost unnoticeable cynicism, "we discussed it this morning."

"You were a woman this entire time?" Solomon frowned.

"I was."

"Why did you not show your true face from the start?"

"Would your brother had accepted our offer had a woman sworn before him she will deliver him the city?"

Solomon opened his mouth, then closed it, then sighed loudly, "no, he wouldn't."

"Then there you have it. Cedric was not the first person we had struck a deal with. I am a lady, and that's that."

Solomon looked at her, her eyes smiling but her face blank of emotions. He glanced at Savage, as disinterested as ever yet clearly battle ready. He viewed his soldiers, looking uncertain at the event.

"It doesn't matter," He finally said and drew his sword without a warning, the cold steel squealing against its sheath as the blade came out to the chill of the night, the flames of the torches reflecting on it, coloring it evil red. The two strangers stared at the blade with some awe, but their faces remained with the same frustrating expression of disinterest. "You will die here."

Behind him rose the clamor of movement, and the screeches of metal against metal filled the air in a deafening choir, his soldiers joining their commander, their King, with swords drawn. Archers drew their arrows, the sharp tips aimed at the heart of the strangers, and lancers lowered their weapons, ready to trample the two to their deaths.

Solomon looked behind him at his soldiers and a proud grin spread across his face. He straightened his back, determined and confident, the might of his army behind him. And when he turned his gaze back to the strangers he blinked in surprise and awkwardly lowered his blade.

The two weren't even looking at him. The giant Savage turned to the woman and whispered something to her ear, and she, in return, mirthfully laughed and put a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Be nice," he heard her say between her soft and warm chuckles, and the gentle creases of laughter near her eyes had gracefully deepened, her smile revealing rows of snow-white teeth, and Solomon, as if mesmerized, found himself hoping that she would never stop smiling.