Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

Later

One
    Darkness fills the alley. I tug my hood closer and glance up at the only light around—a candle in a window above me, its flame struggling to show through the clouded glass. I sidestep away from the faint light, silently thanking the owners of these buildings for being too cheap to install clear windows. If someone spotted me here… Well, Father wouldn’t be happy, to say the least. And it’s always stupid to upset the king.
    The flame in the window sputters and blinks out, leaving me in complete darkness. I think back to five years ago, before Ashe came into my life, before he changed everything. That winter, I’d spent every Wednesday evening in Father’s chambers. He would lick his fingers and pinch the wicks of the candles, leaving the room pitch dark, except for the starlight filtering in through the window.
    “There’s so many,” I’d whispered, my hand pressed against the cold window. Condensation formed a little outline around my fingers, and I wiggled them, smearing the handprint.
    “The Angels believe each star is a broken promise,” Father murmured, staring out alongside me. “They say they’ll linger above the heads of people forever.”
    I frowned and looked up at Father. “That’s so sad.”
    “Well, the Fae’s belief is happier. They think their dead transform into stars, so they can look down on their loved ones forever.”
    “I like that better.”
    He patted my shoulder and chuckled. “Of course you do, Faye. Why do you think I named you after them? Your heart is just as pure as their kind.”
    I close my eyes against the memory. Against the failure.
    A whirring sound hums in my ears, jarring me back to the present, where darkness surrounds me and the stars are covered by thick clouds. A faint light appears at the end of the alley, and I take a hesitant step back. No one is supposed to be here, or at least not anyone dumb enough to carry a lantern in this part of town. That light is practically a beacon for muggers, and I step toward the rough brick wall to my right, hoping the shadows are enough to conceal me.
    But the light comes closer, floating through the air with that whirring sound trailing after it. I glance behind me, but there’s only a decrepit dock and the churning waters of the dark ocean. What was I thinking, coming here alone? Stupid, stupid, stupid…
    I look closer at the light, squinting into the blackness and trying to make out who is carrying the lantern. But there’s no one, and it’s not a lantern. A faint smile crosses my lips as I realize what I’m seeing: a hummingbird phoenix, its feathers alight with magical fire, its flaming wings beating the air. It’s a juvenile, its fire a vibrant purple color and tipped with flickering shades of green and blue.
    But its eyes… They aren’t right. The flames in its pupils are red, which shouldn’t be possible; only mature phoenixes have red flames.
    I take a step toward the bird and hold out my hand, hoping it might land on my wrist like one of Father’s hunting falcons. But, just then, footsteps ring out from the entrance of the alley, and a man’s shadow drifts over the stone ground. The hummingbird phoenix twirls around, and as soon as it sees the figure approaching me, it darts off into the sky.
    Blackness drapes over the alley, but I stare into it and focus on the man approaching.
    “You’re early,” a throaty voice says, and the footsteps halt.
    I keep my expression bored as I reply, “No, Derrin. You’re just late.”
    Derrin chuckles. Most of him is hidden behind a long black coat, but he’s thrown the hood back. I’m not as brave, and pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders. The soft fabric is warm, and for a moment, I’m able to pretend it’s one of Ashe’s wings wrapped comfortingly around me.
    “Any news?” I ask.
    Derrin cocks his head to the side, like a curious bird of prey. I imagine he used to be handsome— he’s half Fae, and a unique mix of harsh angles and willowy grace. But now his face is ruined by a jagged scar that rips across his forehead and down his cheek. “You know, my little friend, I was beginning to think you were crazy,” he says, his accent just as thick and ugly as the scar. “But then I found
this
.” He pulls an envelope out of his cloak and extends it to me. “Says your man is back in Kastellor. And he can be found.”
    I try to snatch the envelope from him, but he jerks back. “It’ll be extra if you want to read what’s