Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

surprise,” she said, sitting up on her bed. She caught his eyes wandering, then realized her shirt was unbuttoned at the top. Fighting away a blush, she fastened a few of the buttons, feeling silly all the while. She’d shown far more to men to get her way. Still, Aaron was young, and she was well aware of his crush on her.
    “I have something for you,” he said.
    “Oh, do you now? Let me see.”
    Kayla outstretched her hand. He stared at her fingers, and she caught his lips trembling as if he were struck with indecision. Remembering how much she’d hated being his age, and how uncomfortable everything had always seemed to be when she was thirteen, she tried to prod him onward.
    “Don’t make me wait,” she gently teased. “You’ve said you bring gifts, so give them to me. I may steal and spy, but I like presents just like any other girl.”
    His neck flushed a bit, just around the collar, but then he outstretched his right hand and dropped a set of earrings onto her open palm. They sparkled with sapphires and white gold. Kayla gasped. She had expected cheap jewelry, a flower, or some poorly written poetry. The gift in her hand seemed more appropriate for a woman of royalty.
    “Where did you get this?” she asked.
    “Father has begun paying me for my aid,” he said. “He says I need to be treated like any other of his men if I am to earn their respect.”
    “He must pay you well,” Kayla said, holding the earrings close so she could admire their sparkle. Clearly they had been polished and well cared for. A part of her felt too cheap and dirty to wear them.
    “You’re beautiful,” Aaron said. His voice, his eyes, his demeanor: everything about him, normally so quiet and secretive, made no attempt to hide the plain truth he spoke. He thought she was beautiful, and that simple belief was enough to have her put the earrings in her ears, pressing them through scarred-over holes from earrings she had worn as a girl. A bit of blood ran across her fingers, but she made sure none dripped across the gold.
    “Thank you,” she said. She kissed his forehead, amused at how red his ears turned.
    “Senke says I’ll owe him for the next five years,” Aaron said, babbling. He clearly didn’t know how to react to the kiss. “But I’ll keep paying him, and it shouldn’t be a problem, unless I die, but then I don’t need to worry about paying him back, do I? Not unless he can find my ghost and…”
    “Shush, Aaron,” Kayla said. At the invoking of his name, his whole body seemed to shrivel inward and slip behind a protective mask.
    “Haern,” he said. “Aaron isn’t allowed to be friends with a woman. Call me Haern.”
    “Sorry,” Kayla said. “This kiss is for Haern, then.”
    She kissed him just above his right eye.
    “You’re a cute boy,” she said. “Now run along and do something appropriate for your age.”
    He nodded, the blush from his ears and his neck having connected at his cheeks. His apparent love, so juvenile and simple, was enough to brighten Kayla’s night. She ushered him out the door, then plopped back down on her bed. As she spread her arms through the fabric of her covers, she let her mind wander. Aaron was cute and, more important, Thren’s son. Once he got older, maybe sixteen or so, perhaps she could arrange for a marriage. Her place in the guild would be solidified so completely she’d rule once Thren died.
    Assuming Thren ever died. The tough bastard looked ready to live another forty years. When he did pass away, she wondered if the Spider Guild would even survive.
    What am I thinking?
she thought.
Of course it will last. Thren won’t spend his whole life building a castle of cards. He wants a legacy.
    Of course, any plot to use Aaron as a means of solidifying rank wouldn’t work if what he had said was true. His father was denying him the friendship of any woman? Why was that? The cynical side of her wondered if it was to prevent the very idea she’d just had. But Thren’s focus, his determination, his desire for a legacy…
    Just what did he want Aaron to become?
    Deciding her life far more likely to endure if she gave up pondering, or even worse, getting involved in such things, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. After a while she dozed off, her light sleep broken by a firm knock on her door. A tingle in her temples told her to open it herself. Her warning was correct: Thren stood waiting, his arms crossed, his swords hanging from his belt.
    “You