Splintered Shadow

CHAPTER ONE

SARAH

Another end to a long day.

The silence of the empty apartment greeted Sarah as she dumped her bag and keys at the table next to the front door. Working at a bookstore sounded great—plenty of things to read and new stock arriving daily—and it would be if it weren’t for all the customers.

I want the book they talked about on the radio. No clue about the name or even what program they heard it on.

It was on the radio, the customer repeated, like it should be obvious.

Or, a perennial favorite, I’m looking for a book. It’s blue.

Customers were the absolute worst.

Sarah wanted a shower, and then she wanted to stuff her face with something unhealthy. The day had worn her out. Her feet hurt, and her patience was long since gone, but the laundry demanded to be done. She wore her last clean pair of underwear, and there was no chance of wearing the same work shirt tomorrow.

Sarah frowned down at the barbeque sauce stain gracing the front of her unflattering polo.

Yup. Laundry had to be done. Such a glamorous life she led.

After a quick shower, she ran the first load and finished the leftover mac and cheese in the fridge. She caught up on the latest episodes of a baking competition while the laundry ran.

The phone chirped, reminding her of an important system update.

They’re all important, she grumbled and dismissed the message. She should update, but the last time she tried, it demanded to be plugged into the charger, and the charger was all the way in the bedroom.

Sarah imagined getting off the comfy couch and just couldn’t find it in her. Tomorrow, she promised.

She carried the basket into her bedroom. No, I’m tired. I’ll fold you tomorrow, she said.

The basket had heard that before.

She sighed and dumped the basket out on the bed. "Fine, I’ll be an adult, but I’m not happy about this. Some people have those things, whatsits, friends, and a life. I should get one of those."

She had friends, but most were partnered up and having babies. Everyone was too busy or too tired to hang out. Honestly, now that she approached her thirties, leaving the apartment after work just seemed like a waste of energy. Adulting was no joke.

She popped in her earbuds, cued up an audiobook, and set to folding. Losing herself in the narrator’s voice, she matched socks and folded shirts.

The phone vibrated.

David has the baby. Let’s get an adult beverage!

Sarah smiled at Trisha’s message. Can’t, she replied.

OMG, that means you’re sitting at home in your underwear.

I’m wearing pants! For some inexplicable reason.

You’re so old.

Sarah checked the time and did the math. She lived on the other side of the city from Trisha. With driving time and the fact that Trisha would insist on coffee and then a late-night cheesesteak, she’d be out all night.

I have to open tomorrow, Sarah wrote.

The reply came instantly. Poo. I hate that you live so far away now.

Sarah sucked in her breath. Her friends knew why she moved, even though no one talked about it.

Three bouncing dots appeared on the screen.

Sorry. I suck. Don’t be mad. I just miss you, Trisha wrote.

And Sarah missed Robert. Three years after her fiancé’s unexpected death from an aneurysm, it still hurt. One day he had a headache, laid down for a nap, and never woke up.

The grief counselor told her not to make any big changes right away, but Sarah couldn’t sleep in the same bed—their bed. Staying in the same apartment was too much. She felt stuck in molasses, sunken by the memories, and needed to break free. So she moved as far as she could to keep a reasonable commute to her job. On a good traffic day, it was an hour’s drive to the old neighborhood, her friends, and her parents’ house. Close, but not too close.

It was great. New grocery store. New gas station. No memories waiting to ambush her every time she passed their Sunday morning bagel place. No neighbors with concerned frowns asking her how she was doing.

It was also lonely.

The apartment seemed even emptier, just her and the laundry basket.

Robert wouldn’t want her holed up in her apartment, hiding behind the excuse of laundry and work to avoid people. He’d want her to go out and enjoy herself. Live.

Re-engage with the community, the grief counselor called it. They wrote the phrase down on Sarah’s action plan like those were steps she would actually take before their next appointment.

She sighed and picked up the phone. Give me an hour. I need to put on my face.

Trisha replied with a series of emojis that made no sense.

Star. Peach. Exclamation point. Lightning bolt. Dog. Heart. Heart.

See you soon, Trisha wrote.

Her chest tightened, panicking at the audacity of her going out and having fun with friends.

Dammit, she muttered, blinking quickly to avoid crying. She tossed the phone down, swiping at her eyes. This wasn’t a big deal. This was doing things she used to enjoy with people she liked. This was part of her action plan.

Her phone buzzed and vibrated next to her on the bed.

Trisha, not now. She was hurrying as fast as she could and not in the mood to be teased about being a slow poke.

The power went off in the building. The only light came from the phone’s screen.

Color swirled and pulsed across the screen.

Initiating… The words flashed across the screen.

Light erupted from the phone, swirling above the bed. Red, blue, yellow… a rainbow-colored vortex materialized. The air pressure dropped. Sarah felt it in her bones. Then a sudden whoosh as the vortex sucked everything toward it.

This was not good.

Sarah scrambled back. Hair whipped around her face. Clothes—socks, tops, the slippers on her feet—were pulled into the swirling rainbow portal.

It caught her ankle. The force of it yanked her leg up and sent her flat to her back.

Sarah flopped over, clutching the mattress. Blankets and sheets came away, flying up to partially cover her face, and she was dragged through the vortex.

VEKELE

An anomaly, Vekele said.

He tilted his head to better view the information on the tablet’s screen. An anomaly could be anything from a sensor malfunction to interference from a solar flare.

Or an invading force trying to slip through Arcos’ security.

An anomaly, Baris agreed.

The karu perched on top of a bookshelf ruffled her inky black feathers. She did not like this. Neither did he. Baris had been assigning Vekele tasks—all meaningless—to give him purpose.

Vekele did not need his brother’s pity. He was perfectly content on the isolated country estate, away from court.

Nothing good ever happened in the palace.

It is a malfunctioning sensor, Vekele said, handing the tablet back to his brother.

I would hardly send you to chase after a bit of space dust. Investigate the anomaly. Baris spoke with an air of authority, as a male who was seldom questioned. Too many people bowed and scraped for Baris’ favor, in Vekele’s opinion. Bootlickers and worse.

Fortunately, Vekele had no difficulties questioning his brother, king of Arcos or not.

I am no longer a soldier, he said, waving a hand to crowded shelves and the table piled high with ancient books. After the attack that damaged his eyes and cost him his position in the military, Vekele retreated to the country estate and surrounded himself with tomes of military history. Who needs one who is half-blind?

Exactly, and they say you’re not the smart one, Baris said.

The karu cawed and clicked, unimpressed by Baris’ wit.

His brother glanced up at the massive bird. His four eyes blinked—two in the front and then the two at the side—in apology.

This appeased the karu. Vekele felt a warm flush of appreciation for his companion. She had always been protective of him. Why she had chosen him, being ancient and powerful, he never understood.

The karu—average size for an adult—on Baris’ shoulders cawed in reply. The tone sounded offended, but whatever the karu felt—offense, annoyance at the lack of deference—Baris kept that to himself.

Baris pushed the tablet to Vekele. It is unusual. The analysts have failed to identify the energy signature, and I cannot send a ship to investigate.

Because of the wedding, Vekele said.

Because any military movement would be seen as aggressive and would put a halt to the treaty. We need this treaty, Baris said.

Politics.

Vekele had no stomach for the intricate webs spun at court. Motives. Plots within plots. Blackmail. Betrayal. Spies.

Spies were vermin, always there, sniffing after crumbs.

He much preferred a straightforward approach. No one would ever accuse the king’s brother of subtlety. Baris had a mind for political maneuvering. Vekele was better suited for the battlefield and perfectly content to follow his king’s orders.

You were better suited.

Vekele resisted the urge to flinch at his thoughts and kept his expression blank. He loathed pity, especially his own. Pity did nothing. He said, Sending the king’s brother off on a mission would draw as much attention.

Fortunately, the king’s brother is known to be recovering from his injuries. No one will blink twice at a meditative retreat to the temples of Miria.

The anomaly is at Miria?

Interesting. A sacred location, various myths surrounded Miria. Superstitious nonsense, in Vekele’s opinion, but now this anomaly…perhaps the myths had a basis in reality.

Ah, you are intrigued. It is decided. Baris nodded at his words. Take Kenth, my personal ship, and as many guards as Kenth feels are needed. Yes? Baris directed this question to the female guard lurking just outside the doorway of the library. The head of the royal guard never strayed far from Baris.

I will handle it, Kenth said.

Vekele found Kenth to be very capable if lacking in subtlety. There was no such thing as too many weapons or too many guards. Perhaps only one or two guards, he suggested. I am an injured male seeking solitude, after all. Too much security will draw attention.

Kenth nodded in agreement.

Baris clapped Vekele on the shoulder. I need your eyes on this.

Heat flushed over Vekele. Any mention of his eyes was usually followed by an insult.

Half-blind prince.

If I find an enemy incursion? Vekele asked.

Do not engage. Return to the inner zone. You are too important to lose.

But not too important to risk on reconnaissance. Vekele tilted his head to better look at his brother. Was this a ploy to send the family’s disgrace away on a fool’s errand? Or to eliminate a rival to the throne?

No. For all Baris’ faults—ego, hubris, a stunning lack of modesty—he had never treated Vekele as a disgrace or less than capable. And Vekele did not want the throne. He never had. Still, he had no idea what poison councilors whispered in Baris’ ear. They might convince Baris that Vekele’s continued existence was a threat to the stability of his reign.

In darker moments, Vekele had wondered if Baris ordered the attack that blinded him. A ruined soldier could not rally forces to his side and seize the throne. Such treachery among the royal family had happened within living memory. The fact was, Vekele had been a popular military figure with success on the battlefield. Many of the nobles only considered the king to be strong if that strength was delivered with bloodshed.

A shortsighted opinion, in Vekele’s mind.

Arcos had been torn apart for decades by civil war. As various noble houses gambled to seize the throne, Arcos grew more and more isolated from the rest of the galaxy. Once they had thriving trade. Now they had an abandoned station in orbit. Once Arcos boasted the most respected warriors in the quadrant with an extensive fleet of starships. Now the fleet had been reduced to a handful of ships that could barely break the atmosphere.

The planet needed peace, and Baris had the cunning and the determination to forge peace from the broken shards of the past. Those who regarded Baris as weak were fools. Baris felt the weight of the crown. Vekele did not envy the difficult decisions his brother had to make.

Was blinding him one of those decisions?

Vekele did not want to believe it.

The karu on Baris’ shoulder clicked his beak in an agitated manner. Baris soothed the creature with a few strokes on the head.

There are many pieces on the game board at the moment. An anomaly amid treaty negotiations is suspicious. Responding in any way feels like an error, but doing nothing also feels wrong, Baris said, planting his hands on the table. Next to his fingers, a pair of children had long ago carved their initials into the wood.

B.S.

V.S.

Baris ran his thumb over the carving. I do not know how you can tolerate this place. It is a prison.

A luxurious prison with ten bedrooms, a library, a study, a drawing room, formal and informal dining rooms, a room for sitting in the morning, a room just for eating breakfast, a kitchen so enormous it required a small army to operate, extensive gardens, undisturbed hunting grounds, and a stable.

Our time here never bothered me, Vekele said. He had been ten when their uncle took them into protective custody at the country house. To a youthful, unjaded Vekele, the guards were friends and not prison wardens. He had missed his parents and his friends from the capital, but the grounds offered much in the way of distraction to an energetic child.

It was only as he grew older that he understood what the golden band on his ankle meant, what his scheming uncle had taken from him and his brother.

I suppose I have you to thank for that. You always took care of me, he said.

Come back to the palace, Baris replied.

Is that a command, Your Majesty?

The king positioned his hand over the carved initials, splaying it wide, as if to obscure the past. Not yet. Must it be?

Not yet, Vekele replied. He scratched the back of his neck, knowing he needed to give in to his brother’s request. Baris would not cease until he had his way. He said, Even if this anomaly is a bit of dust, the trip to Miria will be worthwhile.

Miria. The location where the first karu bonded with an Arcosian, where his people’s history began.

Where our parents’ lives ended.

Baris gave a victorious shout and pulled Vekele into a powerful embrace. Return home safely. Bring me something interesting.

After the king and his guard left, the library felt empty.

Baris needed him.

After the attack, Vekele had retreated to his books and maps. He made himself as unthreatening as possible, a broken male studying the great battles of the past. No one particularly cared for Arcos’ distant history. His preference was to be ignored so he could get along with his studies, but the king gave him a task. His brother needed him. He would bring the same discipline and demand for perfection to this as he did to his research. He would find this anomaly, be it an incursion or an entire invading army.

The karu fluttered down from the bookshelf, landing on the table. Papers scattered.

Those are delicate, he said.

The karu squawked, feathers puffed up. She was unhappy. Their connection did not allow for words but gave him impressions. Curious or furious, Vekele knew her opinion on matters.

Yes, I agree, but we have no choice, Vekele said. If Baris saw Vekele as a threat to the stability of his reign and wanted that threat removed, there were easier ways than a convoluted mission to a sacred temple. We must obey our king.

If it were a trap, he would know soon enough.

CHAPTER TWO

SARAH

A buzzing woke her. More like birdsong. Angry birdsong.

Her head throbbed. Harsh sunlight just made it worse. Hot and sticky, the humidity must have arrived overnight. May was like that. One day was rainy and cool, the next was all sweaty. Spring was over. Time to swelter in the summer heat.

Sarah groaned, shielding her eyes from the sun. Turning her head, nausea rolled over her.

Big mistake.

What was this? How many drinks did she have with Trisha? And since when did her alarm sound like a bird trying to deep throat a jackhammer? Chirpy and mechanical and so freaking loud.

Awareness trickled in. Her bed didn’t just feel like the ground, it was the ground.

She cracked open an eye.

A vivid blue sky stretched over her. She wasn’t sure the exact shade—azure dreams, tropical waters, something unreal and more likely to be found on a paint swatch than in real life, certainly not in Philadelphia.

Oh, and the two moons huddled next to the sun in the sky. That was new.

Sarah carefully rolled to her side and picked herself up. Stone scraped the palms of her hands. Dirt and plant matter covered the surface. Tufts of grass and twisting, flowering vines covered the area, along with her bedsheets and scattered socks. Narrow trumpet-shaped flowers reached for the sun, the outside petals violet, and the interior a vivid orange.

Using her hand to shield her eyes against the sunlight, she slowly surveyed the scene.

She definitely wasn’t in Philadelphia anymore.

A thick green forest surrounded her on three sides.

A large stone building loomed behind her. Rectangular tiers were stacked atop one another. Plant life seemed to swallow up the building at the base. Cream-colored stone burst free of the thick growth, but the weather had taken a toll.

Ruins, she realized. She was looking at ruins.

She was currently sitting on the flat top of a stone pyramid. Peering over the edge confirmed the existence of steps, but doing so made her stomach flip.

Not going to tackle those for a while.

Sarah just knew she would grow dizzy and tumble down the endless flight of stone steps. Just being this close to the edge made her nervous. She shuffled back, scooting her butt on the ground.

Her hand brushed against her phone. She remembered the strange warning and the swirling thing that opened above the phone.