Free Shadow Magic by Jaida Jones Page B

here, isn’t it?”
    “I don’t know, do I? This wasn’t my idea,” Alcibiades retorted, though he didn’t sound half as cranky as he had a moment ago.Perhaps the prospect of food was placating him. “Smells like food, anyway.”
    “See? No matter what else people say about me, I’m very good with directions.”
    “After
we were lost,” Alcibiades reminded me mulishly.
    “Well, we made it here anyway,” I said, in a tone that I hoped might dissuade Alcibiades from pursuing any further argument in the matter. “Shall we search the premises?”
    He nodded, and I slid the door open. It was heavier than it looked.
    Alcibiades stepped past me once the door was open, then stopped and turned about.
    “Thanks,” he said gruffly. He seemed about to start rooting through the various wooden cupboards both above and below the countertops, so I thought it prudent to step in after him and look for a lamp—instead of falling into a dead faint at his attempt at manners, however stilted and reluctant, which was my other option.
    “You, General Alcibiades, are very welcome,” I informed him, standing on the tips of my toes to skim the top of the cupboards for a lamplight.
    The kitchen was rather a small affair considering it served the entirety of the palace, but it was immaculate, and—judging by Alcibiades’ sounds of pleasure as he stuck his head into the nearest cupboard—it was well stocked.
    “Shouldn’t call me that,” he said, crouching down to slide open a small grain closet. “There isn’t anything to be a general
of
, these days, and promotions after the fact don’t count for nothing.”
    “Don’t count for
anything,”
I said helpfully. “Aha! Here, wouldn’t you rather search with some light?”
    “There’s a lamp over there,” Alcibiades said, though his voice was mysteriously muffled.
    I heard a suspicious rustling sound from the cupboard.
    “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on eating uncooked rice,” I began. Then my ears detected a sound that was decidedly
not
Alcibiades filling his stomach with all manner of indigestible foodstuffs. It sounded like a whisper, in the soft, foreign tongue that I’d come to recognize, if not understand. A light passed just in front of the door, pale and faltering. Not one of the lantern-bearers, then.
    I was glad I hadn’t yet lit the lamp. Curiosity propelled me towardthe half-open door when abruptly I felt a hand on my arm, wrenching me back.
    I hadn’t heard him move, but Alcibiades was standing with his back against the wall, and he had his hand over my mouth. As if I would be
so
consummately foolish as to
speak
at a moment like that! I wanted to bite him. Perhaps I would settle for making him dream about uncaged tigers the whole night long—though that, I recognized, was not the sort of thing a man did to a new friend. I
had
grown uncivilized from my time in exile after all, knowing now the proper time to use my visions for revenge and when not to.
    From what I could see through the crack in the doorway, there were two men standing in the hallway. They wore plain robes the color of the sky at midnight, but their sashes were all embroidered in the same style as the Emperor’s robes. They were no servants.
    The silver of weapons glinted at their sides in the faint light. Was that what Alcibiades had seen? Perhaps, ever the soldier, he might even have been able to smell it. I could think of no other reason for his curious bout of discretion since he was hardly likely to fear that our little pantry raid would cause an international incident. Then again,
we
were in no way armed. If not discreet, then at least Alcibiades was prudent—or maybe simply practical.
    The men outside the door bent their heads together in murmured conversation. They seemed to be conferring over something very serious, whatever it was, since they hadn’t even employed the use of servants for light and were instead carrying their own. I could feel Alcibiades breathing