One Dark Window (The Shepherd King, #1)

by Rachel Gillig

“I resisted,” Ravyn said, “because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that first night on the forest road. And I realized at Equinox that the closer I let myself get to you, the less I’d want to be the King’s Captain—the less I’d want to pretend. And it’s dangerous for me, for my family, to stop pretending.”

“Then be a liar, Ravyn. Betray. Upturn the kingdom that would see you and me and Emory killed. The King keeps you close so he can control you. But you are the only one who can withstand his Scythe Card.” I pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “It is not they who bring the reckoning, Ravyn. It is you. It is us.”

But he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest in a hug so deep it blotted out Market Day entirely. He held me, resting his cheek against the crown of my head, his heart drumming against my ear. I inhaled him, leather and smoke and cedar, settling into his arms like a rabbit in its warm, safe den. I had not fit into anyone’s arms like that since childhood. And even then, no one had ever held me so tightly—as if they needed me in their arms as much as I needed to be held. As if nothing else mattered but to hold one another. As if we had all the time in the world.

“Did you also know, Miss Spindle, that we Yews are descendants of the Shepherd King?” Ravyn and Elm sighed, rolling their eyes. “Not this again…” “It’s true!” Emory said. “The Shepherd King’s history is gone, but Rowan histories are fascinating if you read between the lines. Stone was built by the first Rowan King, which means the Shepherd King dwelled somewhere else. There are no other grand castles in Blunder.” His lips curled. “Save the one that sits in ruins here at Castle Yew.”

Emory shook his head. “But the ruins aren’t the oldest thing in Blunder.” He looked up at me, a glimmer in his gray eyes. “The trees are. If the Shepherd King did live here, he would have taken the name of the trees, the way everyone did. And what kind of trees are planted all along the estate, even near the ruins?” His smile widened. “Yews.” I froze. The ruins—the chamber. He had built them—he told me so. But he had never said his name, and there was no record of it. No one had uttered it in five hundred years.

This time, I clawed at him. Your name is never given in The Old Book, I whispered, my voice combing the darkness. What is it—your real name? He snapped at me, vicious. My name is ash, he hissed, lost to the winds.

“I love when they argue,” Emory said into his soup. “Keeps my weak little heart beating.”

“I want to be here. With you.”

“Can I kiss you?” My voice shook. “A bit late to ask, isn’t it?” “Not on your mouth, Elspeth.”

I pressed my head to his chest, lost to the sound of his heartbeat against my ear. It stretched on and on, an eternal beat, a false promise. As if all my woes would disappear if I remained there, naked, next to him. As if I had all the time in the world.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing my damp hair out of my face. “You were gone when I woke up.” I leaned into him. “I wanted to let you rest.” He kissed me, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck. “I don’t want rest, Elspeth,” he murmured into my lips. “I want you.”

“Found them,” he called to Elm. “They were kissing.” I blushed down to my roots, hiding my face in Ravyn’s cloak. He smiled sheepishly, taking my hand and leading us back into the garden. Elm and Emory waited for us down the path, their arms crossed over their chests. Elm rolled his eyes. “Trees, we get it. No need to rub our noses in it.” “What a shame,” Emory sighed, his eyes tracing me. “Here I was, thinking she’d come to kiss me. That’s how the fairy tale goes, isn’t it? Beautiful maiden saves sick boy with a kiss—boy miraculously heals and delivers the kingdom from dark magic.” “Almost,” Elm said, his green eyes flickering to me. “Except, in this fairy tale, the maiden has blood on her hands.”

“I see a creature, curled around your spine—as if woven into you.” A chill wrapped itself around my throat. “How long do I have until he takes me over entirely?” Emory’s eyes rolled behind his eyelids. “Not long, Elspeth Spindle. He is close.”

It’s not just a magical stone that hides Providence Cards, I realized, terror thick as mud as it crept across my heart. The chamber was at the edge of the cemetery. And the stone… the stone was a marker. A gravestone. I looked at my hands. Whose grave? I gasped, my breath coming in desperate, ragged gulps. Don’t you know? he whispered.

“Are you still pretending?” I said, reveling in his gaze. Ravyn gave a surprised laugh and, in front of everyone, leaned in and kissed me. “I never was,” he whispered into my lips.

“I touched my uncle’s Nightmare Card,” I said. I glanced at Elm. “It’s my ability—my magic. The moment a Providence Card touches my skin, I absorb whatever it was the Shepherd King paid to create it.”

“When the Shepherd King made the Nightmare Card, he bartered a part of himself.” I closed my eyes. Ravyn’s voice was paper-thin. “His soul.” I nodded. “That is what I absorbed when I touched my uncle’s Nightmare Card.” Ravyn and Elm stared at me, their eyes wide, as if they had never truly seen me. “But if he bartered his soul,” Elm whispered, his eyes lowering to Ravyn’s Nightmare Card, “and you absorbed it, then the voice in your head…” The Nightmare’s laughter filled my mind, making Ravyn flinch.

The Nightmare hissed. Hurt her? I protect her. Then why are you growing stronger? Ravyn demanded. The Nightmare’s claws clacked against the dark floor of my mind as he paced, restless. When Rowan stole my life, my soul remained, sealed in the Nightmare Card. I waited hundreds of years, consumed by fury and salt. His voice clung to me, as if made of wax. Elspeth pulled me from the Card, the darkness. So I protected her from a world that would see her killed. I spoke to her from The Old Book. She was already good, clever. But I taught her to be wary. I gave her my gifts—my strength. But nothing comes for free, Ravyn Yew. Especially not magic. Ravyn’s voice was hardly a whisper. What happens when you grow too strong for Elspeth’s mind? But the Nightmare’s only answer was the click of his teeth, everywhere at once.

My father reached into his pocket, his fingers stiff, and retrieved the brilliant blue light. He placed the Well Card at the foot of my bed and stepped back. Upon the Card, secured with a single piece of twine, was a dried yarrow stalk. “Your mother gifted me this Card when we wed,” he said, his voice low. “Her father had given it to her, but she wanted me to have it. ‘What need have I for a Well?’ she’d said in her usual lighthearted way. ‘Only a man would need a Card to keep track of his enemies.’” He never talked of my mother. It splintered something in me, watching his eyes grow glassy. “I wanted you to have it,” he said, inhaling, standing straighter than before. “You don’t have to give it to Ravyn Yew. You don’t have to give it to anyone. I just thought…” He looked away from me, the light in the windows catching his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. “If I could go back and do it differently, Elspeth, I would.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Elspeth. I’m the one who broke my word.” “I should have told you sooner,” I said. “I didn’t know how.” Ravyn gave a small, sad smile. “I know.” Elm coughed, waiting at the door. My eyes fell to Ravyn’s mouth. “When will you be back?” “Tonight,” he said, his thumb grazing my lips as it fell. His kiss was a ghost on my black hair.

“Be safe,” I whispered to the wind as Ravyn Yew disappeared beyond the gate. Had I known they’d be the last words I’d say to him aloud, I might have chosen them differently.

Elspeth, the Nightmare cooed, my name like honey on his tongue. Get up. I reached out in the darkness for him, and when my mind scraped against the coarse fur on his back, he did not flinch away. I can’t, I said. I can’t get up. Not this time. I felt heavy, buried. But you can. Elspeth. It was going to happen anyway, Nightmare. You’re strong. And I’m… I’m so tired. My head… His voice was no more than a whisper. Let me help you.

We smiled, and when we stood, the world around us faded, time and space, Prince and King, child and spirit. All that remained was magic—black as ink. Powerful, vengeful, and full of fury.

“They came in the night,” we said, “the black and red horde. They burned down my castle, put my kin to the sword. The usurper was crowned, though my blood had not dried. But he did not account for the turn of the tide. For nothing is safe, and nothing is free. Debt follows all men, no matter their plea. When the Shepherd returns, a new day shall ring. Death to the Rowans… “Long live the King.”

This is the end, isn’t it? I murmured, darkness creeping across my vision. I go now. And you—you remain. It was inevitable, the Nightmare said, his voice louder and louder. This is your degeneration, Elspeth Spindle. Nothing comes free. The air around me thinned. I blinked, trying to stave off the darkness, like a child fighting sleep. Promise me you’ll help Ravyn. Promise me you’ll save Emory. It’s time, dear one, he purred, lulling me to rest. Promise! He sighed. I promise to help the Yews in all their endeavors.

He would find the last Card. He would lift the mist. He would save Emory’s life. And he would free Elspeth Spindle from the darkness that consumed her.

I have seen it all before, Rowan. And I smell it upon us now. The salt of magic in the air… the turn of the tide.”

King Rowan stared at the creature tucked behind Elspeth’s skin, and the creature stared back, its yellow eyes cunning.

Only I can find the Twin Alders… “For it was I who left it there.”