Circle of Shadows Read online

  She reached for another star. Her fingers ran over the band across her chest, but all she touched was leather. “Crow’s eye!” she swore, as if surprised. “I’m out.”

  She unsheathed her daggers, one in each hand.

  Prince Gin’s soldiers fanned out in front of her, Daemon included. He leered as he turned his sword in his palm. “There are many dangers lurking in the night,” he said. His voice oozed. “A pretty girl like you ought to stay tucked in bed if she wants to remain safe.”

  “I would say the same of you,” Sora quipped, “except you aren’t the least bit pretty.”

  He laughed, falling out of character for just a second. Then he yelled, “Get her!”

  The soldiers hurtled toward Sora, swords raised. She wouldn’t have time to use magic—it required the sacrifice of setting weapons aside in order to form mudras with her hands—but she could still take out two or three of the soldiers. Four, perhaps. Sora smiled as she flexed her fingers around her blades.

  The knife in her right hand slashed the throat of the first soldier. The knife in her left plunged into the side of the second. She had the right one ready to fly as a third soldier came streaking through the air. It hit him in the chest before he landed on the ground. Thump.

  Fairy fought her way to Sora’s side.

  “What took you so long?” Sora yelled over the clashing of blade against blade.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Fairy said, sneaking in a sardonic curtsy as she avoided an incoming throwing star. “I was hosting a tea party for our visitors on the other side of the battlefield and we got rather carried away. Was I supposed to be here sooner?”

  Sora smiled. In the next breath, she sliced a soldier’s throat.

  The narrator began to speak. “The Blood Rift was a tragedy. Many lives were lost.”

  Bodies littered the ground. Sora and Fairy pivoted in the center of the courtyard, backs to each other, weapons at the ready for any other enemy that dared approach.

  “But after a long night,” the narrator said, “Princess Aki’s taigas prevailed. The prince was fatally wounded, and his warriors took his body as they fled the kingdom, never to be heard from again.”

  Daemon and the apprentices who played the remnants of Prince Gin’s army dropped their weapons and ran to the back of the courtyard, as if boarding ships that would take them away from Kichona’s shores.

  Sora and Fairy remained in fighting stance for a few moments longer. Then the black tarp above them was retracted, and the moon shone brightly once more, as if the goddess Luna herself were smiling down upon them.

  All the apprentices who had participated in the exhibition match stepped back into the middle of the courtyard. This was supposed to be the end, the part where they bowed.

  Instead, they looked to Sora.

  She looked at Daemon.

  He nodded, and that reassurance was all she needed.

  Sora hurled a throwing star at the hair trigger she’d set up on the parapets. The Imperial Guards knew it was coming, because Fairy had convinced them it would be a good idea; she could be very persuasive when she turned on her charm.

  As soon as the star hit the trigger, the roofline over the courtyard lit up with a hundred sparklers.

  “Yes!” Sora pumped her fist.

  Their teachers, however, shouted in alarm and immediately began to cast spells to prepare themselves for a fight. The ones closest to Empress Aki ran to protect her from what they thought was an attack. Others began trying to shepherd the apprentices to safety.

  But the Imperial Guards around the empress simply stepped in closer to her, holding their hands up to stop the teachers from leaping to her aid. The teachers stopped in confusion, until one of them turned and growled, “Spirit—”

  He was cut off by the sky exploding in fireworks. Small yellow flowers, stunning purple starbursts, and red rockets careening across the glowing moon.

  And finally, the pièce de résistance—an enormous tiger, composed entirely of crackling blue fireworks, topped with a sparkling gold crown. It was something Fairy and her gemina, Broomstick, had invented, a perfect combination of her expertise with chemicals and his passion for explosives.

  Sora smiled so hard, her cheeks were about to break. Daemon, Fairy, and Broomstick piled around Sora, jumping and cheering.

  Their teachers stood around the edge of the courtyard, seething at the ruins of what was supposed to be a solemn exhibition.

  Empress Aki, however, seemed pleased. “Bravo,” she said, clapping with abandon. “How different from past performances. It’s very exciting that you are the next generation of taiga warriors. Kichona is truly blessed.”

  Sora almost burst from the pride swelling in her chest. She grinned, and the apprentices all bowed.

  Chapter Two

  The Imperial City was made up of three parts, with most of it carved into a mountain. At the top, Rose Palace perched on a cap of steep white quartzite, with sheer faces impossible to climb. A deep moat had been chiseled around the summit, another layer of protection for the rulers of the kingdom.

  Below the moat, the face of the mountain shifted dramatically from white quartzite to dark granite, with only a winding, two-mile road etched into the rock, connecting Rose Palace to the world below. Sora and the Level 12s marched down that path now, heading back to the Citadel, the Society of Taigas’ headquarters on the lower third of the mountain.

  Unlike the empress’s castle, the Citadel was a fortress where all the buildings were as dark as looming twilight. Black was the color of stealth and, hence, of the taigas, Kichona’s soldiers. The Citadel was the base of their operations, as well as where students like Sora trained. Its black outer walls were intimidating by design, severe and smooth, towering ten stories high. Inside the compound, everything was black too. Glorious, dark buildings covered in shiny, tiled rooftops as strong as armor. A black outdoor amphitheater sliced into the mountain. Even the temple to Luna was black from its pagoda roof to its wooden floors.

  And then, the last part of the Imperial City was the Field of Illusions around the base of the mountain. But this was no ordinary field of grass; rather, it was a sea of black-and-white sand that shifted constantly in optical illusions, confusing and dizzying, such that the only people who could pass were taigas trained to filter out the hypnotic patterns, or those escorted by the warriors.

  But tonight, Sora wouldn’t have to deal with that. They were approaching the Citadel from Rose Palace, so they’d be able to enter through the rear gates. Which was a good thing, because Sora was busy reveling over the fireworks she and her friends had pulled off, and she might not have been able to concentrate well enough on getting through the illusions. She probably would have found herself face-first in the sand.

  Her reverie, however, was interrupted by Fairy, who broke ranks from farther back in the formation and jogged up to Sora and Daemon.

  “What are your plans before everyone goes home for Autumn Festival?” Fairy asked.

  “You mean, other than packing?” Sora said as she continued marching.

  Fairy skipped alongside her. “That will take you all of five minutes.”

  Daemon inched closer to join the conversation. “We were going to get in one last spar if we had the time.”

  “Oooh, you have a wrestling date?” Fairy raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  Sora laughed. Her roommate collected boys like some girls collected seashells. “You know, the male apprentices are more than just things to kiss.”

  “I actually prefer to think of them as fresh meat to devour. Although Wolfie here can be pretty ferocious. Maybe he’ll devour me, which would be nice for a change. . . .”

  Daemon shook his head, smiling.

  “Fairy,” Sora said, laughing, “you keep fishing, but it’s not going to happen.”

  Her roommate smacked her hand sarcastically to her heart and stepped backward, nearly jostling the next apprentice in line. “Spirit! You’ve mortally wounded me with your cruelty!”
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  “I think she’s broken,” Sora said to Daemon. “She keeps yammering at full speed. It’s like—”

  “She put a cheetah spell on her mouth instead of her feet,” Daemon finished.

  “Hey.” Fairy scrunched up her face. “I can hear you, you know.”

  Daemon gave her a crooked smile. “We’re just teasing.”

  She batted her eyelashes. “I like when you tease me, Wolf.”

  Daemon laughed, and it blossomed through his and Sora’s gemina connection like a field of golden poppies.

  Sora smiled. He’d let Fairy flirt with him, but she knew he wasn’t tempted. They’d all been friends for too long. And Sora was glad for that. Not that she wanted Daemon for herself. Society Code didn’t allow geminas to be together, because it could get in the way of their ability to serve the kingdom.

  “Anyway,” Sora said to Fairy, “what did you run up here for?”

  She shrugged. “Oh, nothing important. I just heard that the Council is going to give the Level Twelves their scouting missions today.”

  “What?” Sora stopped.

  The apprentice behind her bumped into her. “Hey!”

  “Sorry,” she said and resumed marching. She turned her attention back to Fairy.

  A scouting mission. The true marker of the final apprentice year. The Council—the Society of Taigas’ governing body—would be watching the Level 12s constantly this year, observing and ultimately deciding where to assign each gemina pair for their first post after graduating to full taiga-warrior status. The scouting missions were tests to show how each apprentice did in the field. The first mission would set the tone.

  And yet Sora wasn’t sure whether to believe Fairy. Her roommate was a monstrous gossip, and only 20 percent of what she said was true. The other 80 percent . . . who knew what she was thinking?

  “How do you know the Council is handing out missions tonight?” Sora asked. “They usually wait until after Autumn Festival.”

  “My gemina works in their office, remember?”

  Right. Broomstick—who’d been given the name because he’d been scrawny as a child—assisted the Council with administrative work, which, not so coincidentally, was the source of the 20 percent of Fairy’s gossip that was actually true.

  “The Council decided to give us our assignments now,” Fairy said, “so we can go straight from the holiday break if we wanted to, rather than having to come all the way back here.” She shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

  “Wow,” Daemon said. “Our first mission.”

  Sora nodded, unable to form words. She and Daemon had been looking forward to the first mission for different reasons—Daemon, for a chance to prove himself; Sora, for a glimpse into the future, when she wouldn’t be constricted by school rules—but they were propelled forward by the same pure anticipation.

  Pleased with herself for breaking the news, Fairy grinned and spun away to return to her place in the formation. As they approached the tall iron gates at the rear entrance to the Society of Taigas’ headquarters, the glistening black walls of the fortress greeted them solemnly, surrounded by soaring, thick-trunked cypress trees older than the kingdom itself. The moon seemed to beam more brightly at the home of its chosen warriors.

  Sora and Daemon straightened.

  A chorus of voices shouted as the taiga warriors who guarded the gates surrounded the apprentices. They dropped from the roofs of the watch towers, from the trees, from the beams behind the massive gate. They were nowhere and everywhere, all at once.

  The taigas always were.

  Sora and the others fell immediately to their knees and splayed their empty hands on the dirt in front of them to show that their weapons remained stowed away. They touched their foreheads, too, to the ground.

  “Cloak of night,” one of the guards at the gate said.

  “Heart of light,” the apprentices recited in unison, finishing the Society’s motto.

  “Welcome back, Level Twelves,” the gate guard said as Sora and her classmates rose to their feet. “The Council would like to see each gemina pair, in the order of your formation.” He met eyes with Sora and Daemon. “That means you’re going first.”

  Anxious yet eager, Sora reached through her gemina bond for Daemon. He was nervous too—their connection vibrated like a guitar string that had just been plucked—but her presence met his, and they stilled each other. A little.

  The iron gates of the fortress swept open on silent hinges.

  “Shall we?” she asked.

  He looked over at her and smiled. “We shall.”

  Like all the buildings at the Citadel, Warrior Meeting Hall was styled in the taigas’ colors—black roof tiles, black wooden frames, black rice paper windows, with just a touch of gold in places like door handles and the stitching at the edges of the black reed mats on the floors. Black paper lanterns hung on the walls, their light muted yet not at all weak. Rather, there was a refined confidence to their understatedness.

  The Council Room in Warrior Meeting Hall was the black heart of the Society. Glass Lady, the stout, unsmiling commander of the taigas, presided at the head of a table made of an impossibly large black stone dredged from the bottom of Kira Lake, fully formed, polished, and flawless. The lantern behind Glass Lady cast her long and sharp silhouette over the table, black on top of more black.

  Two councilmembers—Scythe and Bullfrog, both in their fifties and therefore a good decade younger than Glass Lady—sat to her right. Strategist and Renegade, who were in their sixties, sat to her left.

  “Commander.” Sora and Daemon bowed together as they stepped into the room. “Honorable Councilmembers.” They bowed again, to the left and the right. Then they stood before the Council table, their arms straight at their sides, palms forward and fingers open in a symbol of respect.

  “Welcome, Spirit,” Glass Lady said. “And, of course, Wolf.”

  Sora felt Daemon flinch through their gemina bond. Glass Lady had addressed Sora first, and Daemon as an afterthought. It happened fairly often, and he noticed every time.

  Frankly, it was unfair. Yes, it was true that Daemon wasn’t the best at magic, which meant he couldn’t always enhance his stealth or his speed or his jumping as well as other apprentices could. But he compensated by fighting harder in the sparring arena than anyone else. He could win any physical fight blindfolded and with an arm tied behind his back.

  But to Daemon, that was still a consolation prize. Sora knew this; she could sense it through their connection every time someone addressed her first and him second.

  He had reassured her during the exhibition match. Now it was Sora’s turn to make him feel better. She sent a sense of togetherness through their bond, the solemnity of their commitment gleaming like polished steel, as if saying, Ignore her. We live and fight and die together.

  She felt Daemon’s confidence steady.

  “We are pleased to have a mission for you,” Glass Lady said, although she looked anything but. She stared at Sora and Daemon, her eyes as cold and sharp as the jewels in her hair, which glinted like shards of ice. Glass Lady was a classic taiga, all fight and no heart. Her favorite saying: If curiosity killed the cat, it was sentimentality that killed the taigas.

  “After the Autumn Festival holiday, you will travel to Tanoshi and sweep the area,” she said. “Make sure everything is orderly there.”

  “Tanoshi?” Daemon’s face fell. “It’s just an ordinary village.”

  Not all warriors could be Imperial Guards. Some protected the kingdom’s important cities, while others were assigned to ordinary patrols, acting as local police forces to keep the peace for regular citizens. Being assigned to Tanoshi for their first mission indicated that Sora and Daemon were on the path to the latter. Sora didn’t care; as long as she was with her friends, she was happy. But it mattered to Daemon.

  Glass Lady narrowed her eyes at him. Sora bit her lip.

  “If the two of you applied yourselves more, perhaps you would have gotten a more chal
lenging mission,” Glass Lady said. “Spirit, you have the highest grades in magic even though I am quite certain you rarely practice. If you tried as hard in your training as you do at purposely breaking our rules, you could be in the Imperial Navy after graduation. But you know all this. Your teachers have told you every year, and you obviously do not care.”

  Sora forced herself not to shrug. The Imperial Navy was the most prestigious post possible after graduation from apprenticeship; it was the start of the path to becoming an Imperial Guard. But why would she want that? She’d spend all her days on a boat, scrubbing decks under the unforgiving sun, living in the confines of a ship. If dealing with the rules of the Citadel was bad, being stuck at sea with nowhere to escape the captain’s eye sounded like a nightmare.

  “Tanoshi is a perfect mission for us, Commander,” Sora said.

  Glass Lady let out a long exhale, as if it took all of her patience. “You’re lucky we didn’t refuse to give you a mission at all, after that stunt at Rose Palace tonight. We will mete out an appropriate punishment, but that will have to wait, as we have other missions to assign. For now, you are dismissed.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Sora said, relieved. She placed both fists over her heart, the taigas’ symbol of loyalty. Daemon did the same. “Cloak of night. Heart of light,” they recited.

  The councilmembers saluted with double fists over hearts and repeated the Society motto as well.

  “Happy Autumn Festival, and have a good mission,” Scythe—the least stern of the warriors—said.

  As Sora and Daemon burst out of the Council Room doors, Fairy and Broomstick left their places in line and ran up to them.

  “What’d you get?” Fairy asked, her eyes as bright as if they’d been sprinkled with pixie dust.

  “Tanoshi,” Sora said.

  “Can’t wait until it’s our turn to get our assignment,” Fairy said. “You’ll have a great time in Tanoshi. The boys there are cute.”

  Sora laughed, then turned to Daemon. “Can you believe it? Our first real mission!”