Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1) by Candice Bundy (win 10 ebook reader .txt) 📗

Becka suppressed a smile. “The records that spoke of the shadow-dwellers mentioned some great cataclysm related to a misuse of their powers that ‘cast them forever to the winds’. You’re not suggesting, after all this time, that they’re still around?”

He cocked his head to the right, an air of uncertainty in his expression. “No, as you said, there’s nothing to indicate actual shadow-dwellers. According to Enforcer files, the ancient shadow-dwellers were believed to have the ability to consume other fae’s powers.”

“Wait, what do you mean by consume?” Becka’s stomach heaved. “Like, eat other fae?”

“No, not their flesh. Their blood.”

She tried to shake off the nausea. “Does that even work?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We do not know, but what’s important is the shadow-dwellers believed it did.”

“So, the question is, who’s using their glyphs now? And what do they hope to accomplish? Power-stealing?”

He shrugged. “Stranger things have happened, but we are not sure yet. Chief Elowen’s working theory is someone is either using the glyphs to throw us off their trail, or they are insane and trying revive shadow-dweller ways by using the symbols in an attempted magical invocation.”

“That’s a curious thought. But the first theory doesn’t make any sense. Only I could see the marks on Tesse. Until I came around, no one investigating was even aware of the glyphs.”

“I am in agreement.”

“Which leaves a madman? Mad person?”

“Potentially, yes. Or someone who didn’t want to get caught, or have their activities found out.”

“I don’t get it. It’s not like there’s a reference book or anyone around to teach them the art of ancient shadow-dweller glyph magic.”

“No one on the team is sure. All we know is, despite using the symbols during the attack, the killer did not die in the act or we would have had two bodies, not one.”

“Did Elowen have any other updates you can share?” she asked.

“Nothing else yet. The glyphs are just one more mystery to muddle through.” Quinn cut his chin in the direction of the feast. “Your arrival has been noticed.”

Becka turned to look. They stood at the entrance closest to the Rowan family table. Maura beckoned her in. “It’s all too familiar. I’m dreading having to play the game.”

His guard dropped, and he shook his head. “They are not going to bite, Becka.”

“No, but I guarantee some will have their claws out.”

Becka ventured into the room, noticing, as before, how the entire room hushed upon her entry. She made it to Maura and Vott’s table without incident.

“Welcome, Becka. Please, have the seat between Calder and Sigfrid.” Maura motioned to the open chair. “Quinn, it’s a full table but there’s a space for you down at the end.”

Becka took the seat offered, as did Quinn. She hadn’t thought the space could feel any more awkward than the first night she’d dined with them.

She’d been wrong.

While during the prior feast there had been clear disapproval and dislike, it had been replaced with an air of forced good humor. Alain sat across from her, his wallowing grief like a miasma of palpable pain. Unlike the evening before, he trained his gaze on Becka, expression inscrutable.

Shivering under the scrutiny of the assembled masses, Becka gratefully accepted a ruby filled glass of House Vine’s Pinot Noir from a passing steward. As she took a long sip, her gaze met Quinn’s, his frown reminding her of his warning not to overdo it.

“I am pleased you could join us,” Maura said. “I was not sure you would make it. It has been quite a full day for you.”

“That is has.” Becka focused on selecting some roast vegetables and raw beet salad from passing shared plates. “I’m planning to crash early tonight.”

“Sensible.” Maura motioned to a young man.

The valet held an intricately carved box, which he carried over to Becka and set on the table next to her. He undid the clasp at the front of the box and then opened it, revealing a pair of long-sleeved gloves covered with intricate embroidery. The fine, golden fabric was covered with images of fanciful fae beasts, some of lore and some native to fae lands. Becka couldn’t even identify them all, but the craftsmanship was exquisite.

She refrained from touching them, although her hands itched to pick them up, turn them about, and see the rest of the images.

“These are quite lovely,” Becka said.

“Indeed, they are quite singular,” Vott replied. “They belonged to my great-great-grandmother who had a penchant for embroidery. She made them herself, sourcing the sea silk from House Ash.”

“I’m not familiar with sea silk?”

“Yes, I admit it is a curiosity! There’s a gland in the foot of clams, which produces the long and silky filaments known as byssus, which they use to anchor themselves to the sea floor. House Ash maintains clam farms and so has a limited amount of the finest sea silk. Even amongst fae, seeing sea silk is a rarity.”

“These are truly remarkable,” Becka replied, her suspicious nature kicking in full bore. “Why are you showing them to me?”

“Do not worry, Becka, there is no trickery here,” Vott replied, before heartily chuckling to himself.

There were smiles all around. Except Quinn, whose stern expression Becka recognized as his default watchful state. Calder had a forced smile that didn’t meet his eyes. Alain brooded, pushing food around his plate, seemingly not at all aware of the small talk. But otherwise everyone else smiled along with Vott’s joke.

“I didn’t imagine there was.”

“I suggested we present them to you as a gift,” Maura said. “I reasoned you might benefit from gloves, which are thin enough to allow you a normal range of function, while also blocking your skin from accidentally coming into direct contact with anything susceptible to your unique abilities. Which might or might not work, as we do not know how your gift works yet. Perhaps it is worth a trial. There is nothing magical about these. Their fine craft is due to skill and not an illusion, as are so many items in this home.”

Becka