Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

least most of the time. My informants say he’s leaving the city for periods of time, and then coming back. But I have no idea what he’s up to.”
    Which just about kills me. The day before Ashe was taken into custody, I saw the man in the royal throne-room. He was tall and broad, with a long scar at the corner of his mouth. A pearly patch of skin marked his collarbone, a small circle that almost looked like a brand.
Treason,
I’d heard him whisper out of his ruined mouth, and Father’s eyes had grown wide.
    After Ashe was sentenced to death, I started hunting the man. But, after ten months, I barely have anything to show for it. Every day I wake up with this reality hanging over my head, and every day I wake up nauseous, pained…
guilty.
    “You don’t even know his name, Faye,” Farren says softly. Then he scoffs, his tone hardening a little. “You can barely confirm he
exists
.”
    “I know he exists. I
saw
him, Farren. He’s the one who reported my Guardian as a traitor. He set him up!”
    Farren does another one of his hand-flicking gestures, dismissing my words. “Maybe he did report Ashe. But what if this man was working for someone else? What if he was only a messenger?”
    I wince at the way he says the name:
Ashe.
Like it’s just another casual word to use in discussion. I stopped using it soon after Ashe died, deciding his name deserves more respect. But I can’t convince everyone of that.
    “If he was just the messenger,” I reply, my teeth gritted, “then I’ll make him tell me his employer’s name before I kill him.”
    Farren shakes his head. “Why are you so set on killing him, Faye? Why does he have to die?”
    The answer is so obvious that I laugh. We both wince at the harsh, ruined sound. “He has to die because he
murdered
my Guardian,” I growl. “It’s his fault, and he needs to die for it.”
    “So now it’s your job to deal out justice, huh? Great. I’ll inform the Grand Judge that he can retire.”
    I ignore the sarcastic drawl in his voice. “It’s revenge, not justice. There’s a difference.”
    “And that is?”
    “Justice is laws and politics and lies. Revenge actually means something.”
    Farren shakes his head.
One, two, three, four, five…
I count the moments of silence that pass. After Ashe’s death, I was always counting my heartbeat, remembering his promise to me. Soon I figured out methodical counting can be soothing, and it became a habit.
    When I reach eighteen, I let out a long breath. “Seriously, though. How was your day?”
    He groans and lets his head fall back, but goes along with the subject change. “Good, I guess. I went and saw Ameila.”
    I try to hide my wince, but fail miserably. Farren shoots me a glare, his shoulders suddenly tensed, and I quickly say, “I just worry about you.”
    “No,” he says, “you just don’t like that I’m courting a peasant.”
    “She works in a bakery, Farren. Don’t you see how terrible that would look if anyone discovered you were courting her? You could be stripped of your titles.”
    “And why would that be so bad?”
    Because then I wouldn’t have you in my life,
I want to say. But instead I snap, “You’re always saying you don’t want to be king, but the alternative is worse. Being cast out of a royal family is practically a death sentence.”
    “You’re being overly dramatic.”
    I scoff. “Being a cast-away means no bodyguards, no laws to protect you. Do you really think you’d last long on the street, with all the grudges people hold against royalty?”
    He chews at his lip for a long moment. Then he glances away from me, his gaze focused on the fire, and says, “I love Ameila. And I’m not just going to leave her just because she’s a peasant.”
    “You’re being ridiculous, Farren,” I say, even though my heart screams that he’s making the right decision.
    “You’re one to talk. Falling in love with that Angel boy? You know that’s worse than falling for a peasant.”
    I dig my fingers into my palm, trying to stop myself from lashing out at Farren. Sometimes it seems rather pointless to be so highly trained in fighting, when I can rarely use my skills… “I was already disgraced by practically the entire kingdom when I Chose him. It didn’t matter who I took as my Guardian. You, on the other hand, have an image to uphold.”
    “I don’t care about images.”
    “The people love you. Don’t ruin that, Farren. It’s not worth it.”
    “Ameila is worth