One Dark Window (The Shepherd King, #1)

by Rachel Gillig

She was alive in every way, proclaiming her wants and fears and anything in between out loud, like a spell of gratitude. She carried an ease with her wherever she went, attracting people and animals. Even the trees seemed to sway in accordance with her step. Everyone loved her. And she loved them back. Even to her own detriment.

Magic smells of salt. Like ocean tides, it carries great balance. It wraps itself around the Spirit of the Wood, good and evil, love and hate, life and death. Can you smell it in the mist—in the Cards—in your own house? Magic smells of salt.

The Black Horse made its beholder a master of combat. The Golden Egg granted great wealth. The Prophet offered glimpses of the future. The White Eagle bestowed courage. The Maiden bequeathed great beauty. The Chalice turned liquid into truth serum. The Well gave clear sight to recognize one’s enemies. The Iron Gate offered blissful serenity, no matter the struggle. The Scythe gave its beholder the power to control others. The Mirror granted invisibility. The Nightmare allowed its user to speak into the minds of others. The Twin Alders had the power to commune with Blunder’s ancient entity, the Spirit of the Wood.

But be wary. Magic knows no loyalty. Should someone else touch the Card, its magic shall be theirs to command. There must be touch, there must be intention.

The Captain of the Destriers is dark and severe. Watching from yew trees, his gray eyes are clear. His wingspan is broad and his beak is quite sharp. Hide quick or he’ll find you… and rip out your heart.

Hauth had no qualms forcing others to do his bidding, especially those who flouted Blunder’s laws.

uncle has given away his Nightmare Card to the King and struck an accord—without consulting me.”

Ravyn turned his head. His eyes captured mine, falling a moment to my dress before shifting to Alyx. For the briefest of moments, I thought I saw the corner of his lips curl.

Two lights warred for dominance. One burgundy, the other pink, carried by a strikingly beautiful woman with yellow hair.

The same calloused thumb that had slid over my knuckles in Ravyn’s chamber caught the tear on my cheek—dragged it away.

“Emory may not survive another turn of the year. I may be a liar and a traitor,” he said, “but at least I can say there is nothing I would not do to save my brother.”

The Nightmare, provoked by my fear, stirred, his claws sharp.

his discomfort when the King noted us together. Was it the lie that bothered him, pretending to court me? Or was it me he could not stand?

men and women blowing like ash on the wind, parting ways until there was a distinct path through the mayhem.

He just made fifty people as docile as paper. The Nightmare clicked his tongue against his teeth. He couldn’t control you, could he?

What creature is he, with mask made of stone? the Nightmare said once more. Captain? Highwayman? Or beast yet unknown?

The moment the Cards touched the Captain’s hand, the white color disappeared.

“The Nightmare,” he said, quoting The Old Book of Alders, swinging his finger at me as if he were conducting an invisible orchestra. “Be wary the dark. Be wary the fright. Be wary the voice that comes in the night.”

“Nothing,” I said. Then, for spite, “Isn’t that what you wanted?” Something flared in Ravyn’s gray eyes. Not anger—but just as strong. For a moment, strain broke across his fixed expression. His fingers flexed along the candlestick, his shoulders rigid—his body tense, and honed entirely on me.

It felt like a forgotten dream, looking at the man with gilded armor. A reflection in water too murky to make out.

“The light in here is playing tricks on me. For a moment your eyes almost looked yellow.”

“Most of what we know of the Shepherd King we take from lore. His histories were destroyed, and none of his children survived to claim the throne. Brutus Rowan, his Captain of the Guard, became the next King of Blunder.”

Castle Yew’s eclectic assortment of herbs, weeds, and blooms looked as if they might rise up and take the castle by storm—wild and strong and free.

I didn’t miss the way Ravyn’s eyes jumped up and down my body. “Much better,” he said, a flush inching up his neck into his cheeks.

And I caught myself wondering what the calluses along his palms would feel like against my bare skin.

But the Spirit was neglected, no matter her plea. The Rowans erased her, as they once did to me. But she keeps her own time, and I keep a long score. The tide that comes next will blot out the shore.

When I turned it over, a rose petal fell into my hand, red as blood.

“Dark horses, the pair of us,” she said, the midday light casting a glow along the apples of her cheeks. “Be careful, Elspeth. Don’t let yourself be swayed by a handsome face. There is so much you don’t know about the world. About powerful men. I worry for you. Truly, I do.” But she didn’t sound worried. She sounded cold.

thought I caught a glimpse of something in her narrowed hazel eyes—something more than coldness. Something that looked a great deal like hatred.

Ione covered her mouth, but not before I caught the edge of a smile dancing along her lips.

“Anonymity is the highwayman’s greatest advantage. Tear it away, and you’ve already killed him.” “Or her,” Ione whispered, her voice so quiet I might have imagined it.

“Hauth broke your wrist, Ravyn mangled his hand. Balance.”

Our lips collided, there, among the salt.

He is a vestige of the past, haunting the chamber he built for the Spirit of the Wood, nothing more than a memory of a man who once was. His voice grew harder. A man I once was.

“But that would mean I absorbed your soul when I touched the Nightmare Card. Which makes you… the Shepherd King.” A growl, a sneer—oil, bile. His voice called, louder than it had ever been, as if he was closer. Stronger. Finally, my darling Elspeth, we understand one another.

Children are strongest when their eyes are clear. Only then can they make their own choices.

“Your eyes are so dark—so infinite.” He paused. “Like a maiden in a storybook. As if the Shepherd King had penned you himself.”

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.”

Had I known they’d be the last words I’d say to him aloud, I might have chosen them differently.