What Haunts the Shadows: Chapter 1

An Akagami no Shirayuki-hime (Snow White with the Red Hair)

It’s strange how miraculous power seems to those who don’t have it.

A hand stretched toward a girl without a country or a boy without a name, and suddenly anything seems possible. Like shopgirls can marry princes, and carpets can fly, and everyone will live happily ever after.

Then you get closer, and there are . . . limits.

A bird has to prove its worth and so does a girl. A fort of soldiers bears the punishment of their prince’s care.

And you learn, even all the power of a kingdom can’t protect the things you love.

The space at her back is sickeningly empty. The sun beats down on her face, but no one suggests she should go inside or at least move to the shade.

“I’m sorry, Shirayuki.” The king’s expression of regret is as genuine as she’s seen on his face, but it doesn’t make the words any better. “Until Lord Bergatt shows his hand, there is nothing I can do.”

Her head swims. The sun is making her lightheaded, and she’s sure her nose will be burned when she checks the mirror. She can’t make herself care.

She doesn’t notice she’s not alone until he sits beside her, resting his fingers over hers. She can just imagine the lectures she would get, not paying attention to her surroundings like that.

“I heard you spoke to my brother,” Zen says.

She nods her head slightly, feeling a brief wave of cool air against her nose as it slips out of the sun’s gaze, and heat flares against the nape of her neck.

He sighs. “Unfortunately he’s right. We have no proof Lord Bergatt was behind the attacks, and since his brother is missing too, he can claim he had nothing to do with them. If we attack him now, most of the North will back him, and it could start a war.”

It makes sense when he says it. Logical, like numbers in an account book, or pins on a map. It doesn’t sound like a friend. It doesn’t sound like—

He turns slightly until their knees brush and he takes her hands. “But he won’t sit quietly for long, and when he makes a move, so will we.” His fingers tighten around hers. “We will rescue him.” They’re pretty words, pretty promises, as he always gives her.

But a single one of those words from him was enough to take Obi away from her, and now none of them can bring him back.

She slips back into Lyrias at dawn.

The guards at the gate know her well enough that her identification tag is barely visible before they usher her inside, though they cast curious glances at Shikito, several steps behind her.

Because it’s never been Zen they see, not here. Here, she stands on her own, as she always has.

She never should have forgotten.

She goes to her room and distantly hears herself dismiss Shikito at the door. The door clicks behind her, and the familiarity of the room aches. She can almost hear movement in the room beside hers.

No—

No she did hear something.

She tiptoes over to the door and pushes it open slightly. A figure lies across the bed, dark hair scattered over the pillow. His face shifts—

And her heart breaks to see Ryuu with his face tucked into Obi’s pillows, drowning in a blanket she hadn’t even realized was missing from her own bed.

She closes the door as silently as she can, then sits at her desk, pulling out a piece of paper. She likes to make lists, they’re helpful to keep organized, to make sure she doesn’t miss a step.

But what is there to make a list of when she has no idea what she’s doing?

Well, she’s leaving. She knows that much. She’ll need clothes, money, food, herbs, anything too important to leave behind. She’ll need to leave notes about all of her current patients and—

And her eyes fall to her half-finished letter to Zen, started before this whole mess.

She should be sad, she thinks, over everything she’s giving up again, but . . . but she can’t. All she feels is cold numbness that took over ever since Mitsuhide tucked the glowing necklace back into her hand, grief in every line of his face.

The door between her and Obi’s rooms opens, and Ryuu stumbles out, hair still rumpled from sleep. He freezes when he sees her, gaze falling to the floor.

“Sorry, I thought . . .you’re not supposed to be here till tonight.”

“I left early.” She smiles, but she can feel the wrongness in it.

Ryuu still doesn’t look at her. Instead he holds up the blanket in his hands. “I got cold and borrowed it.”

She doesn’t remind him of the extra blanket Obi keeps in his closet, specifically for the two of them. “You’re welcome to keep it.”

Now his gaze shoots up, focusing on her before sliding to the paper in front of her, to the bag she didn’t bother to unpack. “You’re leaving.” His voice grows hopeful. “Did the prince—“

She cuts him off. “Zen said there was nothing they could do.”

He blinks. Stays silent for a breath, then two. “You’re going to get him by yourself.”

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t bother to answer.

He lays the blanket back on her bed, but doesn’t bother to spread it out. “Okay. I’ll go pack.”

No.

NO.

“What?” She didn’t know her voice could sound like that—so brittle and sharp.

He stops, hand on the doorknob, and his grip tightens around it. “I’m going with you.”

She stands up, but her knees buckle, and she grips the desk to keep from falling. “No, no you’re not.”

His fist clenches and he doesn’t turn around. “I can’t—I can’t just stay here. Not when he—“

She knows. She knows, but she can’t lose them both, and Ryuu’s still so young . . .

“I’m not coming back.” The words spill out before she can think them through.

His shoulders hunch tighter. “I thought maybe. But I still can’t stay. I can’t just wonder forever if—“

Her eyes light on the letter again, and a plan starts to form.

“You’re not coming with me,” she begins, and when he turns around to keep arguing, she holds up a hand. “You’re not coming with me because you’re going to Tanbarun.”

Next chapter coming soon!