Chapter 7: Bruises

  It was hard to sleep that night. Anger, embarrassment, and resentment rolled over Ean like dark clouds unfurling across the sky. And lurking beneath that storm was an ocean of guilt. He should have listened to Felix. He shouldn’t have taken the contract. Leo didn’t deserve to die. Ean had nearly killed an innocent man-—an innocent boy, really—and he deserved the bruises and the wounded pride.

  He stared up at the night sky and wondered if anyone else was sleeping. He’d seen Asali set her bow next to her pillow that evening, and Chadwick had made a point of bringing his sword to bed with him. They distrusted him now. Any favor Ean had earned by saving Flora had been swept away with that one incriminating page. It was foolish of him to write it in the first place, and doubly foolish to forget to burn it. What was he thinking? Had he wanted to be caught?

  No, of course not. Ean would have preferred to keep his assassination attempt a secret until the end of the time, when there was no one left to judge him but whatever god remained. The truth was far simpler: Ean had forgotten about it after saving Flora from the river and then he’d been distracted by the companionship from the others. It had felt good to be included in their conversations and to be looked at with gratitude and not suspicion. He’d been lulled into a false sense of camaraderie with them. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Ean sighed and shifted on his bedroll, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate his bruises. The entire camp flinched. Chadwick’s sword scrapped an inch out of its scabbard. Asali’s bow creaked. Roarke turned over.

  Ean felt the weight of their gazes on him even though he couldn’t see them. He forced himself to relax into his new position. It wasn’t comfortable, but pain is constant. Pain is a companion. With that mantra running through his head, he slipped into a fitful doze.

  He woke early, the morning air damp with dew. The sky lightened in the east, shades of gray and blue that would soon be shot through with the yellows and pinks of true dawn. His body ached.

  He pushed himself up regardless. His knee throbbed. His face felt swollen. He ignored the way Asali’s eyes snapped open and tracked his movement through the camp. Flora was on watch, sitting by the fire. She said nothing, just watched with a frightened expression as he passed her. He walked down to the river and splashed water on his face. The cuts on his brow and lip stung, a bracing sort of pain. Across the creek, a grassy knoll stretched out, covered in short grass and wildflowers. He crossed over on the stepping stones and slowly, carefully, began to shadow-dance.

  Meteor Dance was next in his rotation, but it was too intense for his bruises. He started with Ocean instead, a slower, flowing dance, and gingerly tested his range of motion. His head ached during some of the inversions, but there was no accompanying dizziness, so he pushed through it. His knee protested when he kept his weight on it for too long. He adjusted his stance and switched out some of the kicks.

  The sun peeked above the horizon. Ean heard the camp stir as he segued into Flood Dance, faster and more powerful than Ocean. He was halfway through when the Prince arrived. Leo didn’t say anything, seemingly content to watch, so Ean kept practicing. Again, he had to switch out the spin-kicks and flying jumps, but when he finished, he was no longer distracted by the pain. He ended with a few stretches, nothing too strenuous, just bending forward to press his palms to the ground, and then backwards to form a bridge. He kicked his feet over his head to right himself, and his knee let out a shout of pain as he landed. He ignored it and turned to the face the Prince.

  Leo didn’t say anything. Ean didn’t either. He wasn’t sure what to say.

  Leo finally moved, placing a bundled blanket on the ground and opening it. Ean’s weapons were inside. The Prince gestured at them, a clear invitation. Ean jumped forward to reclaim them before the offer could be rescinded. He re-sheathed them in a matter of seconds, not feeling comfortable until the last blade slid home.

  Leo watched, still silent, and without anything better to say, Ean shrugged and said, “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry,” Leo returned.

  Ean’s eyebrows jumped up. If anyone needed to apologize, it was him, but apologies had never come easily. “What for?”

  “For not stopping Chadwick yesterday. I was angry and—”

  Ean cut him off. “No apology needed. I get it.”

  Leo shook his head. “I let my emotions prevent me from acting in an impartial manner. You have a contract with my father. He’s chosen to forgive your crime and I should abide by his judgment. I shouldn’t have let the others hurt you.”

  Ean had to laugh at his earnestness. “I tried to kill you. It makes sense you’re pissed off. You can throw a few punches of your own if you’d like, even out the score a little bit.” Ean held out his hands to show he wouldn’t stop him.

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  Leo stepped back, like he was offended at the offer. “I don’t want to hit you. I want you to know that I hold myself to a higher standard than how I conducted myself last night. I am your Prince and I failed to protect you. I hope that you will accept my apology and, in the future, let me know when I’m not treating you fairly.”

  Ean stared for a moment, completely flummoxed. Leo couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t want Ean, his would-be killer, to complain to him about minor injustices. He squinted at the Prince, trying to figure out what his angle was. Leo crossed his arms and stared back, a show of stubbornness.

  “Okay,” Ean said, feeling like he was humoring a child. “I accept your apology and I will tell you if I’m being treated unfairly.”

  Leo gave a curt nod. “I’ve told the others they’re not to hurt you. What happened yesterday won’t happen again. You have my word.”

  And with that vow, he turned on his heel and crossed the creek. Ean watched him go, catching sight of Asali hidden in the tree line, bow in hand. Ean was too baffled by Leo’s words to care that she’d probably had an arrow on him during the whole conversation.

  Leo was too noble for his own good, Ean decided. The world was only going to disappoint him. He recalled the way Leo’s face had fallen when Ean’s crime was revealed. Perhaps he was the first disappointment in a long line to come.

  Guilt nipped at his conscience. It continued to hound him as they resumed their trek west, but after an hour of walking, the pain in his knee drowned the emotion out. It spiked with every footfall, hot and burning. Ean knew it wasn’t broken, but that logic did nothing to soothe the agony.

  Pain is constant, he reminded himself. Pain is a companion. That was the philosophy of the shadow-walkers. Approach; do not avoid. Hiding from any discomfort, be it pain, fear, or an unpleasant truth, only prolonged suffering. Acceptance was the only way for healing to begin. So Ean let his knee hurt. He let his nerves scream and his muscles grumble and walked obstinately through it. By the time they stopped for lunch, he was sweating. When they stopped to make camp in the evening, he dropped onto his bedroll and refused to move.

  No one asked him to help anyway. He lay back and listened to the others and noted the difference. Usually making camp was a social event, lots of talking, joking, and teasing. This evening it was quiet. Voices were muted; conversation was strained. That had been his doing. Well, Flora and Chadwick deserved some of the blame for reading his journal in the first place.

  Dinner was made. He debated if it was worth getting up to eat. Before he could decide, Flora surprised him by bringing a plate to him. She handed it over silently.

  Ean sat up to take it, relieved and grateful. “You didn’t have to.”

  “You still saved my life,” she said, and then gestured to his leg. “I have a poultice that can reduce swelling.”

  “I’m not going to say no.”

  She retrieved her medicine bag and Ean pulled up his trouser leg. His knee was double the size it should have been, and deeply purple.

  Flora made a noise that could have been pity. “How did you even walk on it?”

  “It’s not broken.” Ean poked at a particularly vibrant bruise and winced.

  She shooed his hand away and picked a tin out of her bag. The paste inside smelled of mint. She gently smeared it over his knee, then wrapped it in a roll of linen. “Leave it on for the night. And try not to move.” She dabbed some on his face as well.

  Her advice was easy to follow. Ean stayed on his back for the rest of the night, and once again, he wasn’t put on watch. He knew it wasn’t out of consideration for his injuries; it was because no one trusted him. Right then, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He closed his eyes and slept.

  Flora removed the bandage the next morning and revealed her that her strange paste had worked a minor miracle. The swelling in his knee had halved. The bruises had sped past the black-and-blue stage and were now vividly green-and-yellow.

  He looked up at her in shock. “Is it magic?”

  Flora shook her head. “Mostly science.”

  Asali passed by on her way to the horses and paused. She looked at his knee and made a noise that could have been an apology. Or she could have been as impressed with the salve as Ean was.

  He didn’t have to shift his kicks when he practiced his dances that morning, and when they struck out on the road, he was able to keep pace with the party. He chose to trail behind them though. He knew his presence wasn’t wanted. The solitude felt strange, even though he’d once preferred it.

  The morning dragged by, slower and tedious without any company. Up ahead, he heard the others. A few idle comments turned into stuttered dialogue and then full conversations. It seemed their comradery was healing from the shock of his betrayal. He dropped another few paces behind.

  Ean knew the others noticed the distance. Asali and Chadwick frequently turned around to check his position, their eyes dark and suspicious, but as a whole, the party seemed to relax with his self-inflicted exile. Their conversations grew louder; laughter emerged. So it was a surprise when, early that afternoon, Leo dropped back to walk with him. Asali whirled around, shoulders tight with anxiety. Chadwick tried to follow the Prince, but Roarke grabbed his arm and hurried the group along.

  Ean glanced between the Prince and the party. “You’re making your friends nervous.”

  “I had questions,” Leo said.

  “Had or have?” Ean asked. The distinction struck him as significant.

  The Prince paused before answering. “I don’t know if they’re important anymore.”

  “Let me guess,” Ean said, because it was usually all the same. “You want to know why someone hired me to kill you.”

  “Devon was a fool and it got him killed,” Leo answered promptly. There was anger in his voice, but a good deal of sorrow as well. “I told him we were straying too close to the border. He didn’t listen and we were caught in an ambush. He died, alongside seven others. Another six were injured.” He shook his head. “Apparently that was enough to hire a shadow-walker.”

  Ean winced. “Well… not exactly.”