Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

something in the man’s voice stops me. Even though it’s distorted, the cadence of the words is almost familiar.
    The shadow flickers a couple times, and then I see it. No
, him.
He stands in a cloak, his hands clasped behind his back. The cloak covers his face and body, but it can’t hide his deformity. His back is hunched and bulges from his shoulder-blades.
    I straighten my own shoulders and keep my face deadpan. In the back of my head, I remember Jackal’s warning. Could he have actually been right? “Who are you?” I ask.
    “Princess Faye,” the man says. “So nice to finally meet you.”
    “Answer my question. Now.”
    He shakes his head and makes a tsking sound. “I’ve heard that you can be hostile, but surely you aren’t going to be rude? It’s unfitting for royalty.”
    “Save the lecture,” I snap. “You’re the one who just barged into my room unannounced.”
    He chuckles. “True, very true.”
    “Are you an agent of the king?” I demand.
    “Your father? Of course not.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the rippling colors surrounding him. “Don’t you know how much that old fool detests magick?”
    Magick. So that’s what this is. I’d heard whisperings of the dark craft my entire life, and I’d even considered learning it to track down Ashe’s killer. But it was never worth the risk of getting caught.
    “You look surprised.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
    “The dark arts have been outlawed for two centuries,” I say.
    He scoffs. “So has liquor. And does that stop your guards from hauling dozens of drunkards to prison every week?” He shakes his head in answer. “Irrador’s petty laws stop nothing. They only prevent.”
    “You don’t sound fond of my country.”
    “I’m not,” he replies. I strain to recognize an accent, but the distortion covers up anything unique about his voice.
    “Then why approach Irrador’s princess?” I ask.
    “Because we share a hatred.”
    I pause, considering his words. Then I slowly nod. “Continue.”
    “Faye?”
    Farren’s muffled voice comes from the hallway. He knocks on my door, the rhythm a little frantic. “What’s going on in there? I hear voices.”
    “You have company,” the man in the mirror murmurs quietly. “I’ll return later.”
    “Wait!” I hiss. I nod toward the door. “I can get him to go away. Just stay, I’ll—”
    But the colors dissolve, and the cloaked figure fades from the mirror. He’s gone when Farren bangs on the door a second time. I shake my head, take a deep breath, and hurry to the door.
    Farren stands in the hallway, his face pinched in a scowl. I open the door a little wider, giving him a view of my entire room, and letting him see that no one else is inside.
    “What is it?” I ask, doing my best to look annoyed.
    He peers into my room. “I…” Farren trails off when he sees no one but me standing there.
    “Farren, I don’t have much time to get ready. Could you let me get back to changing?”
    He frowns at me. “I heard voices.”
    “Probably some guards in the hallway,” I say with a shrug.
    “I heard your voice. You sounded upset.”
    I smile a little and put on an abashed expression. “I, um… I got a little mad at my dresses. Nothing seems to look right.”
    Farren raises an eyebrow. “And talking to them helps?”
    “No. But cursing at them makes me feel better.”
    Farren laughs hesitantly. “Alright.” He nods toward my wardrobe, using it as one last excuse to glance around my room. “Just hurry up, alright? Father will be expecting us soon.”
    I smile. “Of course.”

Eight
    The amphitheater is packed with people and their exited chattering. Nearly every weekend, an event is held here; some sort of theatrical play, or mock-duel, or chariot race. All for the people’s entertainment, and all for an admission fee that helps keep the kingdom well-funded.
    But now these people are here for a different reason: Me. Hundreds have gathered in the amphitheater, despite the frigid wind brought in by the tide. They fidget on the stone steps that create seats, occasionally glancing up at the booth where Father and I sit with our bodyguards. They’re waiting, anxious for the event to begin.
    Today is my Choosing Day.
    Today is a day of celebration.
    Today I want nothing more than to die.
    But it won’t be me who dies. I glance down into the arena, and watch as guards scurry around a gate in the south corner. One of them bangs his spear against the gate, and