Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

us?”
    I shrug. “I don’t see why he couldn’t. He’s obviously responsible for the border raids.”
    “But that’s the thing. It’s so obvious, but very few people realize that.”
    I open my mouth to ask what he’s going on about, but then it hits me. Of course. It
is
obvious. And if Farren is right… My stomach suddenly feels like it’s full of icicles. “You think he’s somehow blocking us from noticing him? That he’s using magic to make us all oblivious?”
    Farren nods. A small drop of blood wells on his chewed lip, and then drops down his chin. He wipes it away with his sleeve, and frowns at the stain it makes.
    “You have to do something,” I demand.
    “I’m not king. Seven more months, remember?”
    “Of course I remember. But that’s no excuse to just sit back and let Shale mess with our minds.”
    “I’ve tried, Faye. The Council won’t listen to me.”
    “Then try harder!”
    He scoffs. “You’re one to talk. When was the last time you even paid attention to politics?”
    I probably should try to come up with a comeback. But I just shake my head and say nothing, because I know he’s right, that I should pay better attention to Irrador’s politics.
    Or at least that’s what my conscience tells me. But I learned to ignore that annoying little voice the moment I set out to avenge Ashe.
    Farren stands from the chair and stretches. “We can’t seem to have a discussion tonight without disagreeing.”
    “Can we ever?”
    He chuckles and shrugs. “No, not really.” His expression softens into that affectionate smile he’s given me as long as I can remember. “I’m going to retire for the night. You should, too. It’s late.”
    “How can you sleep, knowing what Shale is up to?”
    “Like I said, it’s just a theory. I don’t know anything.”
    “But you’ll tell me when you do?”
    He scoffs. “How about you try coming to a Council meeting, and learning political information the traditional way?”
    “Tradition is so bland.”
    He just rolls his eyes and starts out of the room, but says over his shoulder, “I mean it, Faye. Get to sleep. You have a big week ahead.”
    I nod, despite knowing that I’ll be up for hours poring over the letter Derrin gave me. It’ll be in code, of course. Derrin loves his codes.
    Fire. Surrounding me, everywhere, the flames licking at the wooden cabin. I cough and stumble toward the door, throwing my arm over my mouth to keep the smoke out. Ahead of me, there’s a clear path leading outside, untouched by the accelerant I doused the cabin with.
    “Please!” a voice calls from behind me. It’s deep and masculine, but strained by the smoke. “You can’t just leave me. The windows are jammed, I can’t get out!”
    I glance over my shoulder. A young man stands across from me, trapped in the corner of the room by the fire. He stares at me with eyes as red as the flames.
    I could unjam the windows for him when I get outside. But then why block them in the first place?
    “Goodbye,” I say.
    I walk out the door, his screams following after me.
    I startle at the fire in front of me. But then I blink a few times, and realize it’s safely contained in the fireplace. The fireplace in my chambers, far from any wood cabins.
    “Faye?” Farren says tentatively.
    I can only imagine what my expression looks like. My skin feels clammy, and I’m breathing too fast. I swallow hard, trying to remember where our conversation left off before the vision struck.
    “Goodnight, Farren.” My words are a whisper.
    He sighs and shakes his head. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in two days.”

Three
    Farren strides out of my chambers, his shoulders straight as ever. Sometimes I wish I could be like that: the perfect child, everything Father expects.
    But then I remember wishes are useless.
    The log in the fireplace crackles, sending a shudder rippling through me. I haven’t had a vision of death since… Ashe. I used to get them all the time when he was my Guardian. Always a man about the die, always with the pure-black eyes of my Ashe.
    And always me as his killer.
    But this time, it’d been different. The man’s eyes were red, not black. Why? Why was I even seeing these visions? They can’t be real. Unlike my other visions, these ones aren’t just images and sounds and scents. They contained thoughts.
My
thoughts. Which is impossible, because I’ve never killed anyone.
    Yet.
    I let my head fall back and my mind wander away from the