Shadows Return

whatever might be troubling him, Seregil was more than generous with the silent language of the body. It was a language Alec had learned well and easily.
    Perhaps it spoke now, carrying Alec’s irritation, for as he braided his hair into a neater plait, Seregil caught him by the wrist and pulled him close. Wrapping his arms loosely around Alec’s waist, he nipped him on the side of the neck and chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bastard. So you really still like it so much, doing silly little jobs like that?”
    “Yes. I mean, it wasn’t much of a challenge, but at least we were working.”
    Seregil lifted Alec’s left hand, tracing his thumb over the round, faded scar on the palm. It was a reminder of the first job they’d shared, one that had nearly killed them both. Seregil bore a similar mark on his chest, just above his heart.
    “Maybe that’s the problem, talí. Too much risk for too little purpose these days.”
    Alec stroked his lover’s smooth, beardless cheek. “It’s not the same here, anymore, is it? I hoped getting back to work would help.”
    Seregil gave him a sad little smile. “I thought so, too, but it hasn’t.”
    When Alec had first come to Rhíminee, Seregil was still the Rhíminee Cat, the city’s faceless and most fearless thief for hire. When they’d abandoned the city after Nysander’s death, the Cat had died, too, or so rumor had it. There’d been no way to resurrect him without giving rise to unwelcome speculation. Seregil had been known in some circles as a man who could find the thief when he was needed, and he’d let it be known that he’d found a new nightrunner, but these little clandestine jobs were harder to come by lately.
    Alec tightened his arms around Seregil and leaned his forehead against his lover’s. He had to stoop just a little. He was slightly taller than Seregil now, with a trace of colorless down on his cheeks; both signs of his human blood, just like his yellow hair.
    “When we were running from those dogs, all I could think of was what it would be like if they caught us,” Seregil murmured. “Imagine—Lord Seregil and Lord Alec slapped up in the Red Tower for common housebreaking? No one knows what we really are, or what we’ve done for Skala. It would just be shame and dishonor, and for what? Because some titled slip of a girl couldn’t keep her skirts down on Mourning Night, then decided she wanted a proper marriage? For that, I risk losing you?”
    “Is that why you turned down so many jobs?”
    “You knew?”
    “Of course I knew. So you’re getting scared, after all this time?”
    “It’s not fear.” Seregil gave Alec’s braid an annoyed tug. “It’s the sheer pointlessness of it all!” Pulling away, he threw himself down on the couch. “Is this what we came back for? Errand boys for bored nobles? I wish we’d stayed up in the mountains, hunting wolves and screwing in the tall grass.”
    Alec settled down next to him with a resigned sigh. Seregil was always at his worst when he was bored. “Maybe Magyana—?”
    “She’s never needed our kind of help. She’s a scholar, not a Watcher. If Phoria would just swallow her pride and bring Klia and Thero back from Gedre, maybe things would pick up. Otherwise?” He pulled out the brooch and eyed it with distaste. “Well, at least there’s no shortage of this sort of thing.”

CHAPTER 2
    Too Much, and Not Enough

    PHORIA AND HER army sailed back to Rhíminee at the end of Rhysin, and rode up to the city through the Harbor Way, through the cold autumn rain and the last of the falling red and gold leaves. The official Progress would be held the next day, but this entrance was carried out with as much pomp and ceremony as if the war had ended, rather than trailed off in yet another season of stalemate.
    Peace still seemed beyond anyone’s grasp, but Phoria had decreed that there be a new holiday in the calendar—the Celebration of Returning Heroes—nonetheless. The stated purpose was to commemorate the year’s victories—without mention of the defeats, of course—and to honor the fallen. She’d done the same last year, when hopes had been higher.
    The rain-soaked banners and golden shields hung along the streets looked a little forlorn this year, thought Alec, as he and Seregil stood with the common masses along the walls of the Sea Market, well bundled against the damp chill off the sea. From here they had a good view of the queen as she rode by, brilliant even in this