Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

anything.”
    I grit my teeth, holding back a frustrated groan, and stare up at the ceiling. Smoke from the fireplace has blackened the stone over the decades, and it almost looks pretty, a patch of dark amidst all the pale stonework. I try to focus on the prettiness, but all I can think of is that the stone will crumble sooner because of all that soot.
    Neither of us say anything for a long moment. Then Farren hesitantly murmurs, “You should know that there were three more magical raids on the border.” He shifts his gaze to me. “Some of the Council is trying to blame you.”
    I let my lip twist into a sneer. “When will they ever give up on that theory?”
    “They have no reason to give up on it, Faye. These are magic raids. People are dying, and they can’t find any culprits.”
    “Except for me, of course,” I mutter.
    “Except for you. You look strange, you act strange, and you’re a person of power. Plus you have those visions
and
you keep hidden away from everyone outside the castle. You’re the perfect suspect.”
    “So now it’s my fault that Father makes me hide away? You know I’d be murdered within days if the peasants knew what I looked like. Like you said, they don’t trust me or my visions.”
    Farren grinds his teeth. “You’re not getting the point, Faye.”
    “And that is?”
    “You need to be more careful. Stop going out at night, and stop drawing negative attention to yourself.”
    I narrow my eyes. “Farren, you know I have no power. I’m a princess, not a prince. You don’t actually think I’m
responsible
for anything, do you?”
    Farren rolls his eyes. “Of course not. You’re odd, but you’re definitely not a witch.”
    “Thank you. I think.”
    “You should be thanking me,” he says, his tone a little sharper. “There are some people who—”
    “—want me dead. I get it, Farren. I hear all about it. I’m not as oblivious as people treat me.”
    He bites his lip and doesn’t agree with me. I cross my arms and look away from him, trying to hide my glare. Mature, no. But wise? Yes. It’s never smart to get into a heated argument with Farren. Neither of us ever wins—we’re too stubborn—and we’re both fantastic at holding grudges.
    Farren gnaws at his lip for a couple more seconds—it’s a habit he’s never been able to break, no matter how much Father gets after him—and then murmurs, “I don’t understand you, Faye. Not at all. You don’t seem to care that there are people out there wanting you
dead
.”
    I care, of course. I won’t die knowing the man who murdered Ashe is still alive. But I only care enough to ensure Father will protect me from the witch-hunters and all the other paranoid citizens calling for my death.
    “I do care,” I say simply.
    “Not enough.”
    I shake my head. “You’re being ridiculous, Farren. We all know who’s behind the attacks. The Council is just too afraid to admit it.”
    Farren raises an eyebrow. “You think it’s Shale?”
    “Of course. He’s publicly admitted his intentions to take our country. How could he
not
be behind the raids?”
    He nods in agreement, his expression darkening. It’s a little odd, seeing him look so glum when he’s usually cheery. But it’s not surprising. Shale is a powerful Mage—so powerful, that he’s set out to conquer the entire continent. No one has been able to get in his way so far, and now that he’s claiming his next victory will be Irrador, Farren has good reason to dread Shale’s name.
    “But we seem to be the only ones who believe it’s him,” Farren mutters. “Everything else is pretending like he’d never be able to take Irrador.”
    “Why wouldn’t he? I mean, our country is well-protected, but it’s nothing compared to Shale’s army. He’s taken over five countries in the past three years. It’s just stupid to think he won’t overtake Irrador. And he’s—”
    Farren holds up a hand to stop me. “You don’t have to tell me, Faye. Believe me, I know.” He continues gnawing at his lip, his jaw working back and forth. “I have a theory.”
    “And that is?”
    “Well, Shale is a Mage.”
    “That’s not a theory, Farren. We already know he uses magic.”
    He rolls his eyes at me, and gives me his classical shut-up-for-one-moment-and-listen look. “That’s not my theory.” He uncrosses his legs, looks around anxiously, and then crosses them again. “Here’s what I’m thinking: If Shale uses magic, then why couldn’t he use it on