Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

the gryphons, but a lot of soldiers died.”
    “The castle?”
    “Safe and still in Irrador’s control. For now.”
    “Whose?” I swallow, and the saliva scrapes along down my dry throat. “Whose controlling Irrador?”
    He frowns at the question, but replies, “Your father, of course.”
    I nod, and Cyrus clears his throat again. “I’ll let you rest for awhile. Try not to die, okay? I’d really prefer it if you stay alive. And the Vampire out there would, too.” He tsks and glances at the door. “And I think it’d be best to avoid upsetting that one.”
    It’s the fourth time he’s mentioned Jackal, but the first time I’ve really heard him. Jackal, my mentor, my teacher. Now that I think back to all his strange lessons in survival, I wonder about their ulterior motives. Did he know I was the Unknown? Was he priming me to be a killer?
    “He’ll be in to see you soon,” Cyrus says, and stands from his chair. “I’d better get going. You get some rest, okay?”
    I nod and close my eyes, too tired to argue.

Thirty-Two
    A strangled cry escapes me as I wake.
Farren.
The name slams into me, along with the image of his bleeding corpse. My mind has cleared, and there’s no longer any fog to obscure the memories or the pain. I remember everything: His bloodied shirt, his limp body, and his eyes that are glazed and no longer such a pretty green.
    I lurch forward and wrap my arms around my legs, burying my face in my knees. I cry, my chest aching from the sobs. But I don’t care about that pain. The only pain that matters is the one searing in my heart.
    It’s not from the knife.

Thirty-Three
    When I wake next, there’s only blackness. Am I dead? I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of mint and fresh rain. Who would have guessed death smelled so good? The aroma reminds me of my Ashe, and it’s comforting as I take in another breath and close my eyes.
    I smile, wondering if I’ll see my Ashe in the land of the dead. Maybe Farren will be here, too, and I’ll get a chance to apologize.
    “Don’t look so happy, princess.”
    The voice echoes around me, reverberating through the dark. I snap my eyes open.
    Blaize stands in front of me, dressed in his black cloak, his fire sword clutched in one hand. He lazily swings it in an arc and blandly states, “You’re not dead.”
    I try to look around, wondering where I am, but I can’t move my head. Focusing on Blaize, I try not to panic. I watch him warily as he approaches me.
    As he walks across some invisible ground, colors ripple out from his footsteps. His gait is purposeful and graceful, like a panther’s, and he seems at ease, despite the sword in his hand.
    “Where am I?” I try to stand, but still can’t move. Only my lungs and mouth work.
    “You’re in Jackal’s house, sound asleep in his guest room.”
    I frown. “This is a dream?”
    “A message within a dream,” Blaize corrects.
    I bite my lip, relieved when I’m able to do it, and narrow my eyes. “What’s the message?”
    Blaize chuckles. “Don’t be so suspicious, princess. I’m only here to help you.”
    “Somehow I doubt that.”
    “And why is that?”
    “People never take the time to help others, not just out of the goodness of their heart. They always expect something in return.”
    Blaize shrugs. “A cynical viewpoint. Cynical, but accurate.”
    “So then you admit it. You want something from me.”
    “I only want the same thing I asked of you before.”
    I try to look away from him, but can’t. Closing my eyes, I curse under my breath. I shouldn’t have to think about this now. Not with Farren dead, and Lor in danger. Not when so much death already surrounds me.
    “I won’t kill my father,” I whisper. Then I think about what Lor said, and decide to add it. “I’m not a killer.”
    Blaize laughs. “Not a killer? Don’t be ridiculous, princess. You were created to kill.” He clasps his hands behind his back and paces in front of me. “What you mean to say is that you’re not a killer of innocents. And your father isn’t an innocent, as you well know.”
    “I won’t kill him. He’s as much as a person as I am, and I have no right to take his life.”
    “Funny, he didn’t seem to show that much consideration for your brother.”
    My blood runs cold. “He…?”
    Blaize scoffs, and I picture him rolling his eyes under his hood. “Of course he did. He wasn’t the one to do the dirty work, but your father ordered Prince Farren’s death. He