Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

like? A clang? My heart beats faster, and I squeeze my eyes closed tighter.
    Then I realize that dead people don’t have heartbeats.
    A harsh laugh cuts through the air. I peel my eyes open and find myself looking at Asair. He’s hunched over and clutching a bleeding arm, and the dagger rests at his feet, fresh blood clinging to its blade.
    “Well played, little brother,” Asair growls, his lips twisted in a pained smile. He slowly straightens, but his injured arm remains close to his side. “Futile, but still well played.”
    I blink, trying not to show my surprise. Lor threw the knife at Asair. Not me.
Asair.
More tears well in my eyes.
    “I don’t kill innocents,” Lor hisses. His shoulders are slumped and he’s still collapsed on the ground, but his hands remain clenched.
    Asair raises an eyebrow. “You consider her innocent? After she killed your own brother?”
    Lor shakes his head, his fist clenching tighter. “She’s right. She didn’t do it. She couldn’t have.”
    Asair scoffs. “And why do you say that?”
    Lor grits his teeth and stares directly at his brother. “You’re the one who convinced me she was an enemy.”
    Asair shrugs, but doesn’t deny this. “So?”
    “You’re also the one who convinced our father to rip my wings off and outcast me.”
    “So you’re saying you don’t trust me?” Asair asks, his tone mocking.
    “I don’t trust a word that comes out of your mouth,” Lor snarls. Then he looks up at me, meeting my eyes. His gaze is just as intense, but the anger has settled to a simmer. “Besides,” he says, “Faye isn’t a killer.”
    “Well,” Asair says briskly. He gestures to me, that smile still in place, but he looks a little unsettled. “Time to prove him wrong, princess.” He makes a little shooing motion toward Lor. “Now go on. Kill him, fulfill your destiny, and I’ll hold up my side of the promise. You’ll survive.”
    I stumble to my feet and lurch toward Lor, my injured leg stiff, my entire body trembling. I swallow hard and clench my dagger harder. Lor shakes his head as I approach, and I distantly hear Asair chuckling in amusement.
    “You don’t have to do this,” Lor murmurs. He looks me straight in the eye, and I flinch away from the compassion in them. “There’s another choice, Faye. We could die together. We could end the prophecy.”
    For a moment, I’m tempted to take his offer. But I’ve already made up my mind, and I’m not about to change it. “No,” I murmur. “There’s not another choice. Not for me.”
    I lift my weapon high above my head. Lor closes his eyes and breathes deeply.
    I bring the dagger crashing down.

Thirty-One
    I wake to something fiery burning in my chest and something cool pressed on my forehead. I groan and try to sit up, but a hand pushes me back onto a bed. The mattress isn’t soft, and little pieces of straw poke through the sheets and into my back.
    “Steady there, darling,” someone whispers. The voice sounds strangely familiar, almost like I’ve heard it before… The beach. The attack, and the running, and Cyrus. That’s why the voice sounds familiar. It’s the same one that I heard in my head.
    I open my mouth to tell him not to call me ‘darling’—it isn’t fitting for royalty to be called by that name. But all that comes out of my mouth is a pained groan.
    Cyrus dabs my forehead a few times with a wet cloth. Which confuses me, because how can a bird tend to me? Or a panther, or whatever he is now. A few droplets of water drip down my cheek, tickling my skin there. I reach up to brush them away, and open my eyes.
    Cyrus hovers over me. His appearance is nothing like it was before—he looks like any other Fae, with pale skin and delicate features. His hair is bright red and matches his eyes, which stare down at me with a grim expression.
    Those eyes… I know them. I’ve seen that vibrant red color before, first in the eyes of the hummingbird phoenix, then in the deer, then the sparrow. Has Cyrus been following me? Why?
    “You shouldn’t try to move for awhile,” Cyrus whispers.
    I say the first word that comes into my head. “Lor?”
    He flaps his hands at me a little. “Not so loud!” he hisses.
    I frown at him, and he rolls his eyes, like I’m slow or something. “I’m not supposed to be in here, okay? And I really don’t feel like being gutted by that crazy vamp out there, so keep it down.” His expression suddenly turns thoughtful. “Would he really gut me? Or