One Dark Window (The Shepherd King, #1)

by Rachel Gillig

Let me out, he hissed.

He prowled the forest road for Cards, said the Nightmare. A crime also punishable by death. A crime I and I alone was witness to. I took several steps back. “You must have me confused with someone else, Captain. I know better than to walk the forest road after dark.”

Wait, Elspeth Spindle, a deep voice called in my head. I’m not going to hurt you. I screamed.

Ravyn Yew’s voice in my head.

Be still, the Nightmare hissed, anticipating me. The King is not a friend.

he’d seen my veins—dark and twisted.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated. “You, on the other hand…” He wiped his bloody nostrils on his sleeve, wincing. “Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s twice you’ve handed me my ass and run off.”

“You used a Nightmare Card on me,”

I hissed. “Get out of my head.”

What creature is he, he asked, with mask made of stone? Captain? Highwayman? Or beast yet unknown?

But as I watched Ravyn Yew’s face, his gray eyes tracing the darkness in my veins, there was no fear, no resentment in his gaze. Only concern. Concern and wonder.

What did you hear in my mind?”

He had not discovered the creature in my mind. “Nothing,” he said. “Just a faint noise—a tapping, or a clicking. Why do you ask?”

The Nightmare’s laugh echoed, wicked, his claws tapping their endless rhythm. Click. Click. Click.

“You are in no danger—you have my word. Your infection does not concern me. I merely wish to understand the gift you possess. And I have no intention of discussing it in an open field.”

“You’re a decent liar,” he said, turning back to the mist. “You’ll fit right in.” Beast yet unknown, then, the Nightmare murmured.

“How do you know there are Providence Cards in the garden?”

the animals of Blunder remain free of the Spirit’s snare.

“Animals don’t like me,” I murmured,

Not the dungeon, then. Don’t be so sure, the Nightmare said. There are many different kinds of cages.

He knows you’re infected. And he knows, to some extent, you are aware of the Providence Cards in the castle.

Suppose you simply told him you can see Providence Cards? Or rather, that I see them.

Jespyr Yew, Ravyn’s younger sister, and the only female Destrier.

The berry of rowans is red, always red. The earth at its trunk is dark with blood shed. Trust never the man who wields the Card red. His voice seeped out of him, a poisonous fog filling my mind. No peace will be known till the final Rowan is dead.

For the Rowans, the Nightmare bore a bottomless, vengeful hatred. And I knew why. King Rowan, like his predecessors, used the ancient wisdom of The Old Book of Alders to instill fear—not wonder—of magic. He corrupted our ancient text. Defiled it so that it became a weapon to control Blunder by—just like the Scythe.

kind of like the King James version of the bible!

The red Card. There were only four of them in the entire kingdom. And the Rowans had always claimed them all. With it, they had the ultimate power of persuasion. Three taps of the Scythe, and you would do whatever a Rowan asked of you.

There were Providence Cards in his pocket. The Nightmare had been right—he was going to test me.

“Tell me, Miss Spindle, can you see the colors with your eyes shut?” My heartbeat quickened. “Yes.”

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, just as there were two edges to every blade, there were two sides to every Providence Card. Magic came at a cost. If used too long, the Black Horse could make its holder weak. The Golden Egg led to all-consuming greed. The White Eagle’s courage was replaced by fear. The Prophet’s foresight made its user helpless to change the future. The Chalice’s truth serum turned into poison. The Maiden’s beauty chilled its user’s heart. The Well’s holder would be betrayed by a friend....

exposing a world of ghosts. The Nightmare revealed one’s deepest fears. And the Twin Alders… No one knew what happened if you used the Twin Alders too long. There was no record of anyone having done so.

is it possible we have a player already who has been using the twin alder card for too long? who might it be?

“I want you to leave my family alone. Do not punish them for hiding my infection.” He nodded slowly. “If that is your wish.” “And don’t go back to my uncle’s house,” I added. “He carries no Card you have not already shown me today.”

“You must swear, Captain, no matter the circumstance, you will never use that Nightmare Card on me again.”

I’d expected someone in his position to be a bit less quiet, more abrasive—more brutal. I was happy to be wrong. Still, there was darkness in Ravyn’s quiet. I could see it in his expression—the cool control of his features. He, like me, had learned to still his face—to obscure his thoughts under a mask of control and austerity. Which meant he, like me, had things to hide.

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.

“Did you know Ione was given a Maiden Card?”

The Rowans are not to be trusted. They cling too desperately to their Scythes, hungry for power—for control, the Nightmare called in the din. Be wary.

I’d heard he was fond of executing criminals with his Scythe, forcing them to do horrible things against their will. The High Prince would often call a great crowd at the edge of town. Then, with three taps of his Scythe Card, he sent the accused, without a charm, to die in the mist—lost to the salt and the ravenous hunger of the Spirit of the Wood.

but where Elm’s gaze was narrow and cunning, Hauth’s stare was bold, aggressive.

I know no one’s going to ask me what I want, the Nightmare said, snide to his bones, but just in case you were wondering, the answer is no. No, I am decidedly NOT agreeable.

“Do you have something against Destriers, Miss Spindle?” “Not all of them.” I searched his face. When I noted the bruise along his cheekbone where I’d kicked him earlier, a small smile of my own slid across my mouth. “But most.”

Are you too nice for your own good?” He watched me, something I could not read flashing in his gray eyes. “No, Miss Spindle,” he said. “I’m not nice at all.”

“Many of you have shared your wealth with my family,” Hauth continued. “I thank you. But greater than wealth, there is duty. As High Prince of Blunder, it is my duty to share in my father’s legacy—to follow his path, and the path laid out for all of us in The Old Book of Alders.” The Nightmare let out a hiss. Hauth cast a brief glance at his father, and the King nodded. “Like Kings before him, it has been my father’s mission to collect all twelve Providence Cards,” Hauth said, his voice louder. “With them, we will lift the mist and banish the Spirit of the Wood, ridding Blunder of magical infection.” He paused. “I am pleased to tell you that tonight, we are closer to achieving that goal.”

“Tonight,” he declared, “thanks to his generous contribution, my father has knighted Tyrn Hawthorn. We are proud to offer his daughter a place in our royal family.”

Hauth took the hand of the beautiful woman. She passed him the burgundy light, a smile on her full lips. Hauth, goaded by the crowd’s uproar, held up the Providence Card trimmed by dark burgundy velvet. “I present to you,” he called, “the elusive Nightmare Providence Card, and my future wife, Ione Hawthorn.”

Wary I’d grown, so I needed the Well. She asked for a chamber—a place she might dwell. To reclaim my good self, I forged the Iron Gate.

But it felt incomplete, my collection yet whole. And so, for the Nightmare… I bartered my soul.

“Why would the King want my uncle’s Nightmare Card if his own Captain already possessed one?” My breath whooshed out of me. “Unless… he does not know.”

Isn’t it obvious? The Captain of the Destriers is a sneaking, contemptible traitor.