Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

type from just moments before. I decide to break it before it gets any more tense.
    “Someone plotted your murder?” I don’t bother speaking quietly; there’s no way to soften a question like that.
    Lor nods stiffly. I barely catch the movement, it’s so small. “Yeah. Asair did. He set me up to look like I’d killed my sister.” Lor lets out a long breath and rubs his face. “Emryll was the oldest of my siblings. I got really close to her after Jay was taken away. But she was also the commander of our navy, and had control over most foreign invasions.”
    A woman controlling an entire navy? My head spins a little at the thought. I’ve heard the stories of how women are treated differently in other lands, but I never imagined the differences could be
that
drastic.
    If I show any surprise, Lor doesn’t notice. He just continues with his story. “At the time, Emryll and I were in a fight. It got…
heated
. I knew Jay had been taken to Irrador, and I thought Emryll should send a fleet to retrieve him.
    “But Emryll didn’t like the idea. It’d already been years since Jay had disappeared, and she thought I was chasing after a ghost. She was afraid it was going to spark a conflict if any of our ships landed in Irrador uninvited.”
    Lor sighs and doesn’t say anything more for a long moment. He just grinds his teeth, his jaw working back and forth determinedly. I don’t say anything, either. The wind picks up, and the sound of sand skittering across the beach overtakes all traces of our conversation.
    “Asair murdered my sister in her sleep,” Lor murmurs. He states it so quietly that I barely hear him. But I can still hear the anger in his words, penetrating every syllable.
    “I’m sorry,” I say in a tone that sounds odd even to me. It’s not quite a whisper, but it’s… hushed. Almost sympathetic.
    Lor begins clenching and unclenching his fist again. “Asair made it look like I’d killed her. And my father bought the story. After all, I was fighting with Emryll, so it’d make sense for me to kill her. But…” Lor shakes his head. “I would never have hurt her. Never.”
    “Is that why you’re no longer in line for the throne?”
    He nods. “Asair’s plan was for me to be put to death for the crime, but it didn’t work. My dad always had a soft spot for me, even after he thought I killed my sister. So I was spared death. Instead I had my wings ripped off, my ability to feel pain taken away, and I was banished from my country.” He gives a wry smile. “It didn’t work the way my Dad hoped, though. He thought my tattoo would disappear as soon as I was banished. But I still have it.”
    I mull over his words for a moment. “So then you’re still the figure from the prophecy?”
    He shrugs. “Who knows? To be honest, I’m not even convinced the prophecy is real. The tattoos are strange, I’ll admit that, but… The whole thing just seems far-fetched.”
    I nod and stare past Lor, out toward the ocean. I try to see a faraway continent, only reachable by grand ships and weeks of travel. But all I see are churning waves and a pelican swooping down to nab a fish.
    “So how did you end up over here?” I ask. “Did your father banish you to Irrador?”
    Lor shakes his head. “No. I went looking for Asair. For revenge, I guess. He disappeared after he got me banished, and rumors said he came here. Also, there were rumors that whoever kidnapped Ashe took him to your country. My father would never let me go after him before, but when I was banished…” He sighs. “In some ways, I had a little more freedom, I guess. I snuck onto a ship headed for Irrador, and landed here a couple months ago.”
    Something he says prickles me in an uncomfortable way. But I can’t pinpoint what it is, and I decide now isn’t the time to focus on it.
    “How did you end up in the dungeon?” I ask. I’ve been dying to ask this question ever since I met him, and now seems like as good of time as any.
    Lor glances over to me and gives a sheepish grin. “I shoplifted from a bakery.”
    I raise my eyebrows and stare at him, waiting for him to take back the words. He’s joking. He has to be. But Lor doesn’t say anything more, and his grin grows a little at my incredulous reaction.
    “Shoplifting?” I repeat. “You made it all the way across the ocean, and you end up trapped in a dungeon for
shoplifting
?”
    He shrugs. “I was hungry. And they had good bread.”
    “You say that like you were