Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

urging my heart to keep pumping. “So then… You have something against Father? That’s why you’re asking me to do this?”
    Blaize nods, his cloak dipping. “I suppose it’s possible to put it that way. Although your interpretation is rather simple for my tastes.”
    “Then explain,” I demand. “Tell me what’s going on.”
    My lungs gasp in a shuddering breath, seemingly on their own. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. That I’m
willingly participating
in it. But something in Blaize’s serious tone and cool posture keeps me engaged. Maybe he has a spell over me. That must be it, that’s why I’m not completely balking at the subject. But if he
did
cast a spell, then I wouldn’t be able to detect it… Right?
    Which means it’s my own fault I’m still talking to him. My own fault that I’ll probably die because of this conversation.
    And I don’t care enough to walk away.
    “Your father is not an honorable king.” Blaize closes his hand into a fist, and the fire-sword disappears. “But you already know that, don’t you? I’d say you know it too well. So I suppose there’s no point in giving you examples.”
    “Are you here to ask me to kill the king, or torture me with memories?”
    Blaize ignores my little outburst. “Your father is treasonous to his own country,” he says in a tone that’s nearly bored. “He’s conspiring with Shale.”
    The name strikes me like a poisoned arrow, tearing into me, then slowly numbing my senses. Shale. A perfect name for the most imperfect soul ever born.
    Some say it’s the Mage King’s real name, but I don’t think that’s possible. Shale must have given it to himself; it’s too accurate for it to be natural. Shale treats his enemies just like the stone he’s named after, chipping away at them, layer after layer, gradually revealing weakness after weakness. He’s a master at finding fault lines in armies and simply shearing them away.
    And they come cleanly. No mess, no struggle. Just death and destruction made so simple, it’s both sickening and fascinating.
    “My father would never conspire with Shale,” I say. “He knows that man is a monster. Shale gains control of every country he touches. If he’s contacting my father, then Irrador is…”
    I trail off, counting in my head how many countries Shale took in the past few years.
One, two, three, four, five…
    Irrador could make six.
    “Irrador is in danger,” Blaize says. “Shale has promised your father that he’ll overtake your country. But he’s also made your father the same offer the other rulers received.”
    I close my eyes as Blaize’s words rip into me. It’s the only way I can keep from punching something, or screaming, or worse.
    The deals are a relatively simple tactic, just like all the others Shale keeps in his playbook. First, Shale tells rulers that their country will be overtaken, pointing to all his conquered lands to prove it. Then he offers them the deal: The rulers can remain in power as influential governors, as long as they quietly hand their land over to Shale. They get to keep the majority of their powers, and their court will remain as advisers. But if the ruler doesn’t hand his land over, they lose everything—including their life.
    I know Father. I know how his conscious works.
    He’ll take the deal.
    “What proof do you have of this?” I demand.
    The mirror shudders and Blaize disappears. I almost cry out for him to come back, but then another image appears. It’s Father, wearing a dark cloak and sitting in the corner of a room that looks like part of a restaurant. I don’t recognize it as a restaurant in Kastellor, and it’s definitely not the kind of establishment Father would ever visit. It’s run-down, the floorboards warped and the tables looking like they might collapse at any moment. And the people…
    The people aren’t human. They’re too tall, too pale to be any Irradorian. I peer closer at one of the people, looking at their eyes, and find they’re multicolored. These are Mages, definitely.
    But what is Father doing surrounded by Mages? Almost all of their kind is in alliance with Shale, and are hesitant to visit Irrador.
    Then I notice the flag in the corner. It’s red, with a sword in the center and a two-headed snake wrapped around the embroidered pommel. The flag is the one bared by all of Shale’s territories. So Father isn’t in Irrador; he’s somewhere in a foreign country, one occupied by