Shadow's Son Read Free

end. They might not be happy to see you
come out before their boss."
    Caim wiped his knives clean on Lord Robert's tabard. Nothing was
going his way tonight. He was going to have to use his last option. By the
amused expression on her face, Kit knew it, too. He hated admitting she
was right, but he'd probably hate dying even more.
    He went around the room snuffing candles and lamp wicks to plunge
the chamber into darkness except for a single lantern resting beside the
tunnel mouth. He passed the Duke's traveling trunk and the sacks spilled
on the floor without a glance. Just one of those purses would set him up
for a year, but he was an assassin, not a thief.
    Fists banged on the door.
    "You'd better hurry," Kit said.
    Caim tried to ignore her as he pressed his back against a wall in the
darkest part of the room. There amid the shadows, he closed his eyes and
shut out the outside world. He focused on the sliver of fear quivering at
the center of his core. Fear was the key. It was always there, hidden
beneath layers of denial and repression. Caim hated this. He had to tap
into that feeling, allow it to possess him. At first, he didn't think he
could. There were too many distractions. The pain was too far removed.
But then a memory seized hold of him. It was an old memory, full of pain.

    Raging flames painted the night sky in hues of orange and gold, and threw
shadows across the yard of the villa where the tall bodies sprawled. There was
blood everywhere, pooled in the gravel, splattered across the face of the man kneeling
in the center of the yard, running down his chest in a great black river.
    Father ...
    Caim opened his eyes as the dark came alive.
    It gathered around him like a cloak. By the time the guards battered
down the door, he was hidden within its inky folds. Just another shadow.
The soldiers flitted about like bees from a jostled hive. Some dashed into
the tunnel with lit firebrands. Others stood over the corpses of the duke
and his son. None of them detected the shade that glided out the door and
down the stairs.
    Once outside, Caim scaled the keep's curtain wall and disappeared
into the countryside. Dappled moonlight splashed over him like a gossamer rainstorm. A quarter mile away from the stronghold, he released
the cloying darkness. He grabbed the trunk of a sapling to hold himself
upright as a wave of disorientation overloaded his senses. The darkness
swam before his eyes in a thousand shades of gray and black. Something
lurked in the distance, just beyond the limit of his vision. He didn't know
how he summoned the shadows. The power had resided within him for as
long as he could remember, lurking within him, threatening to erupt
whenever he was frightened or angry. He had learned to control those feelings over the years, but he never got used to it.
    After a minute, the weakness passed and the normality of the night
returned, and Caim resumed his trek through the fog-strewn moor. Kit
danced ahead of him in the distance like a will-o'-the-wisp. The faint tune
of a tavern song reached his ears. Same old Kit. Nothing fazed her. Yet he
couldn't share in her frivolity. Not even the prospect of the sizable bounty
he would soon collect lifted his spirits. Apprehension welled up inside
him, rising up like the deep arm of the sea, dragging him into unknown
depths. His steps slowed in the fog.
    Overhead, a lone star pierced the cloud cover. Like a man grasping a
lifeline, he stumbled toward it, following its shimmer through the gloom.

     

CHAPTER TWO
    osephine rushed from the carriage and into the house faster than the
footman burdened with her purchases could follow. Her cheeks
stung from the brisk autumn chill.
    As she brushed past Fenrik, their family steward, she shed her jacket and
the new hat she'd bought. He collected her garments with his usual aplomb.
    "Welcome home, mistress. I trust your excursion was pleasant."
    "Marvelous! Is Father upstairs? I must see him