Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

should be more alert when I am gone,” he said as he stepped past her into her room. “Alert, instead of slumbering. If something should happen to me, an attack on our guild would immediately follow.”
    “A silly worry,” Kayla said as she shut the door. “Since when can something happen to you?”
    He looked at her as if deciding whether to smile or scowl. So instead he shrugged.
    “Even the impossible tends to find its way into our everyday lives. I have a task for you, Kayla, one suited to your talents. A troublesome man named Delius has been actively encouraging the lowborn folk to turn against us, and such a…”
    He stopped. She felt a moment of self-conscious worry spike through her. Was her shirt open again? Her hair messed up in some strange way? She followed his eyes, then realized he was staring at her earrings. Of course he’d noticed them. Besides being new, they sparkled like stars, almost screaming for attention.
    “Your son gave them to me,” she said, not daring to lie.
    She was not prepared for the rage that roared to life in his eyes, his hands, and his snarl. Thren slammed her against the wall, her wrists pinned. Before she even knew she was in danger, she was helpless.
    “Listen carefully,” he said to her. Somehow his rage never reached his voice. “Aaron must remain pure. He has the chance to become something incredible. I will have my heir, and I will not risk its ruin to the caress of a woman, the stupor of drink, or the delusions of gods and goddesses. Do you understand me?”
    “I’ll give them back,” Kayla said. She almost nodded, then realized that would dangle her earrings, and she feared that might set him off.
    “Not just that,” Thren said. “I want his heart broken. Give it a scar that will never heal. When you are done, meet me and Senke in my room. I still have that job for you.”
    “As you wish,” she said.
    He let go of her hands, glanced about the room, and then left.
    Kayla felt her knees tremble, and when the door was shut she let her fear out in a single sob. The fear didn’t last long. Anger raged upward in her breast. Aaron’s adoration of her was so simple, so embarrassingly pure. And Thren would have her crush it, have her make his son’s heart bleed, all so he could have his damn legacy?
    She took off her earrings, put them in her pocket, and then left for Aaron’s room. Despite what Aaron had said about his father treating him like the other men, his room was separate from the rest, isolated and private. She knocked on the door.
    The look of mixed excitement and fear on Aaron’s face did little to settle the knot in her stomach.
    “May I come in?” she asked, wondering how many of his young fantasies started with her saying exactly those words. He didn’t answer, only nodded.
    She stepped inside. The room was spacious, with a tall ceiling and several windows, but the decorations were sparse. He had a bed, a trunk for his clothes, and the rest was weapons, training equipment, and books. From her quick glance, it appeared all of it received equal attention.
    “Your earrings,” Aaron said, immediately noticing their absence.
    “Here,” she said, taking his hand and plopping them atop his palm. “Take them back.”
    She saw something breaking in his blue eyes.
    “Why?” he asked.
    Kayla opened her mouth, a lie on her tongue. She knew she could lie well enough for him to believe her, and more important, she knew for her own safety she should. Doing the right thing was not often something she worried about, but deep down she knew she was the first woman Aaron had ever reached out to. If she cut him now, if she broke his spirit at such a fragile time in his life…
    But then again, this was Aaron Felhorn, son of Thren Felhorn. She knew the stories the rest of the Spider Guild told about him. The stories they told about Randith Felhorn.
    “Answer me this question first,” she said. “Did you really kill your brother at the age of eight?”
    He sucked in his lips and bit. He was staring at her ears, mainly where the earrings no longer were. She brushed them once, realizing they still bled.
    “Yes,” he said.
    She felt her heart wince a little, but that wasn’t what mattered. The second question was what mattered.
    “Why?” she asked.
    Aaron answered without the slightest hesitation.
    “Because my father wanted me to.”
    Of course. What else mattered in Aaron’s life? He was being steadily created, a work of art only Thren Felhorn