Free Counting Shadows (Duplicity) by Olivia Rivers Page A

used to sleep?
    I take a shuddering breath and then let it out, dispelling the sickening thought. I haven’t been in Ashe’s room since he died, and I’m never going back in there. It’s the one part of him that remains, and I won’t ever disturb it.
    And that’s one promise to myself that I will never break.
    I walk to the spare room two doors down from my bedroom, counting each footstep I take. It’s not enough to kill the swirling thoughts in my head–about Lor and Ashe and his killer–so I also start counting No Name’s heavy steps.
    I enter the spare room, holding open the door for the guard. He glances around, taking in the bare walls and cold stone floor. I’ve never decorated the place, or even bothered to lay down a carpet.
    No Name looks to Lor, and then to the dusty bed. He nods approvingly and smirks, and I have the urge to flip him off.
    “Leave him on the bed,” I command.
    He raises an eyebrow, as if wondering why I’m willing to give Lor even a dusty, old mattress. I point to it, holding my ground. No Name shrugs and dumps Lor on the bed.
    “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess,” he drawls, that arrogant smirk playing at his lips.
    He’d never speak that way to anyone else in this castle, but he’s smart enough to know his place. He’s a royal guard, while I’m nothing but a royal pawn. He can get away with anything he wants to say to me.
    I ignore him, and also try to ignore the knots in my stomach. Instead, I focus on Lor. His chest moves, but more slowly than before.
    I grit my teeth, not wanting to feel the pity in my chest. I still remember the way people looked at me after Ashe died–even people who accused me of being a witch looked like they were sorry. It was maddening. Infuriating. They acted sad when they didn’t even know why they should be mourning.
Who
they should be mourning. And yet every time I saw one of them, with their sorrowful expressions and shaking heads, the memories would come rushing back, and I’d want to cry again.
    Their pity was almost as cruel as Ashe’s death.
    “Well,” No Name says, “ I suppose I’ll be going now.” He walks past me out the door. I wait until I’m sure he’s gone and then drop my head into my hands. What am I doing? That should be such an easy question to answer; I always have a goal, always know what I’m supposed to do to achieve it. Half of me is convinced that this is just another simple step toward avenging Ashe’s death, but I know that’s a lie. Taking a Guardian can never be simple.
    Jolik pokes his head into the room, startling me. I pretend to brush something out of my eye, and hope he buys that my head was in my hands because I was clearing my vision, and not because I was starting to panic and fall apart. Yeah, right…
    I’m not exactly sure where Jolik has been; the trip back to my chambers is a blur, and my head is just starting to clear. I think he’s been in my sitting room, guarding me from there. Typical Jolik, always avoiding emotional situations. Not that I’m any better…
    “I suppose you want me to leave, too?” he says. When I nod, he sighs. “I shouldn’t leave you alone with that Angel.”
    “The healer will be here soon. I won’t be alone.”
    He purses his lip and then nods sharply. “Alright, then you’ll have at least one man around to protect you. That’s a bit better.”
    I don’t tell him that the healer is a woman. Instead, I just wait for him to take the hint and walk away from the room, his footsteps heavy and resigned.
    I close the door after him. Air comes rushing out from my chest, and I lean against the doorframe for support. My mind swirls, and I can’t figure out if I’m relieved that Jolik is gone, or bracing myself because Lor is here.
    Lor lets out a moan. The sound is groggy, but it still carries his voice, which is deep and rich and masculine. It’s so different from Ashe’s elegant tone, but it’s the voice that might hold the key to avenging my