Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

Shale.
    Why?
    Father’s face is shielded by a hood, but I recognize the way he holds his shoulders, and the blue sapphire ring on his finger. There’s no doubt it’s him. I see him from across the room, where someone watches him from the corner. It’s as if I’m seeing him through this other person’s eyes, and I guess it’s Blaize who I’m looking through.
    A man approaches Father, dressed in a cloak even finer than Father’s. His hands are covered in rings, and he stands tall, towering over the seated people in the restaurant. He’s no doubt another Mage, with his elegant presence and height. But both his eyes are a deep maroon color, and not multicolored.
    That must mean…
Shale.
Shale is the only Mage I’ve ever heard of who has two eyes of the same color. It’s whispered that his eyes changed color the first time he killed a man, and have never changed back. My heart pounds, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him. One of the rings on his hand is larger than the others, and I recognize the same symbol from the flag engraved on it.
    Only the owner of that symbol would ever wear it.
    Father bristles as Shale approaches, but strangely, no one else in the restaurant seems to realize their king is in the room. There’s probably some sort of magic at play. Shale sits in the chair across from Father, and they talk for a few minutes. I can’t hear any sound, but I watch as Father’s posture slowly goes from hostile to resigning.
    By the end of the conversation, his shoulders are slumped. Shale holds out his hand, and Father shakes it, sealing some sort of deal. A blue light envelops both of their hands, and Father shudders and recoils, rubbing his hand on his pant-leg like he’s trying to wipe away something filthy.
    My heart pounds desperately, and my breath comes in gasps as the mirror shudders again, and Blaize replaces the silent restaurant scene. His shoulders are softly shaking again. I clench my first and snarl, “You think this is funny? You think it’s
funny
that my father would hand over my country to Shale?”
    “No, no, it’s not funny,” Blaize says. “But this is rather…
ironic
.”
    “Ironic?”
    “Just look at yourself, princess. You’re obviously horrified, but you’re still going to refuse to do me one little favor.”
    “It’s not little.” My voice is a whisper when it should be a shout.
    “But it is. Think about it, princess. That deal was sealed in magic; it can’t be broken now, not unless one of the deal-makers die. And what’s one life in compared to thousands? You know Shale treats royalty well, and the middle class, too. But he doesn’t treat the lower-class the same. Every lower class citizen in Irrador will be either forced into Shale’s army, or taken into slavery.”
    Blaize opens his palm, and the sword reappears. It burns brighter this time, the flames jumping off the blade and falling as ash. Blaize swings the sword around, not bothering to look at it as he performs complex slashes and twirls. “The position lower-class citizens receive is based on a lottery system. That’s how Shale determines their fates, princess. Luck.”
    “I get it. He’s evil. And someone should do something about it, but that someone isn’t me. I’m
not
going to kill my father.”
    “And why not?”
    I shake my head, unsure how to reply. I could spew some nonsense about morals and keeping a clean conscious. But I haven’t cared about those things for months, and it wouldn’t be the truth.
    I listen to my heart, its wild beat hammering through my veins, spreading adrenaline through me. Fear. Now
that’s
the truth.
    Blaize is laughing again. He dismisses the fire sword again and nods to me. “I’ll be back, princess.”
    “You’re not wanted back,” I snarl.
    “You’re right.” He turns his back to me and walks away. The rippling glass becomes smooth, and the colors begin to fade. His image blurs and then disappears, but I still hear his voice echoing around the stone room. “Give it a few days. You won’t just want me. You’ll welcome me.”

Twelve
    The colors dwindle away from the glass, leaving it perfectly smooth and reflective and… normal. I’m not sure how it can change back like that. Like nothing had just happened, like I hadn’t just been asked to commit a murder that would be so cataclysmic.
    And so terribly easy.
    Blaize is right to ask me, if it’s convenience he’s after. I have easy access to Father, practice at concealing a weapon,