Shadows Grow

  Shadows Grow

  Book 2 of a Game of Stars and Shadows

  Kara Jaynes

  Contents

  1. Stella

  2. Stella

  3. Wilder

  4. Eldaren

  5. Eldaren

  6. Stella

  7. Wilder

  8. Stella

  9. Stella

  10. Stella

  11. Stella

  12. Stella

  13. Stella

  14. Stella

  15. Wilder

  16. Eldaren

  17. Wilder

  18. Wilder

  19. Sol

  20. Wilder

  21. Wilder

  22. Stella

  23. Wilder

  24. Eldaren

  25. Stella

  26. Eldaren

  27. Stella

  28. Stella

  29. Eldaren

  30. Stella

  31. Eldaren

  32. Stella

  About the Author

  1

  Stella

  I sit on my windowsill and close my eyes. Reveling in the feel of the sea breeze whipping through my dark blonde hair; I inhale deeply. Liberty air smells of pollution, grease, and underneath that, the tangy salt of the ocean.

  I’ve never lived anywhere but here in this city. As far back as I can remember, Liberty has always been my home. I’ve never even traveled more than a mile or two past the city limits. And when I think about it, I’m not sure I want to live anywhere else. Liberty is dark and perilous, but it is a danger I am familiar with.

  Not very long ago, I lived in a tent community, one of several that are scattered about Liberty. But a lot has happened in the past few weeks.

  Now, my brother Quinn and I, live here, in the Liberty base of the space elves.

  About five years ago, elves had come down from the sky and claimed leadership over Earth. It didn’t take much effort on their part to do so. Most of the human population had been destroyed in the great war that devastated the earth, and just as many deaths occurred in the plagues that followed. There wasn’t much left for the elves to claim.

  But claim it, they did. And I live here, in their Liberty fortress. Because of him. The elven prince.

  Eldaren.

  Rubbing my face, I try to ignore the heat that blooms across my cheekbones. Eldaren and I—somehow—have sparked something called the Kenelky, the elven word for bond. Eldaren is convinced that I am meant to be his mate for life. Well, for my life, anyway. Elves live a good deal longer than humans.

  But I am not as sure about it as he is, that we’re meant to be together. I care for Eldaren, more than I initially realized, but I’m not in love with him. Not yet.

  I still love Wilder.

  My face flames, and I scowl down at the pavement far below me. No. I don’t love him. Do I? “I hardly know him anymore,” I mutter. “He’s not the same man he once was, is he?”

  Wilder and I had been engaged, once. But he’d left me, choosing to chase the star-blood drug, becoming a dream vagrant, a shell of a man.

  But Wilder is now a vampire, an elven experiment gone wrong. He can think and reason once again. And he wants me back.

  My heart longs for him. So much.

  “My heart may want him,” I growl, “but my head knows better. He’ll just burn me again.”

  But maybe he won’t. Maybe he really, truly loves me, despite his past choices.

  I don’t know. And despite my uncertainty, I crave him. The desire I feel to see him again shudders through me.

  A knock on the door pulls me out of my muddled thoughts. “Come in,” I call. It can’t be Eldaren. He enters my room whenever he pleases, and rarely, if ever, bothers knocking. It’s resulted in a couple of embarrassing moments.

  The door opens, and a girl with tangled black curls and creamy brown skin peeks in.

  “Lyra!” I tumble off the sill and hit the floor. Jumping up, I run over, flinging the door open further so I can give her a big hug. “I missed you. I thought you left.”

  “Eh.” Lyra shrugs. “The gorgeous bullies that run this place wouldn’t let me see you right away. I had to give them the slip. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  Grinning, I lightly punch her shoulder. “They are gorgeous, aren’t they?” She was referring to the elves, of course. And despite their flaws, they were beyond good-looking.

  Lyra didn’t smile back. “Be serious, Stella. How are you? And Quinn?”

  “I’m fine,” I reply. “So is Quinn.”

  Lyra looks over her shoulder, her nose wrinkled in a scowl. No one is there, but she closes my door and lowers her voice anyway. “What’s your escape plan?” she asks.

  I blink. “Um, there isn’t one,” I say. “I’m staying here, Lyra. Where else would we go?”

  “Are you for real?” she hisses. Anger flares in her eyes. “These elves are aliens to our planet, Stella. You can’t trust them. Not even a little. They got to Wilder, you know. They did something to him. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, earlier. But I saw him.” She shivered. “His eyes were red. I don’t know what happened, but they changed him somehow.”

  You don’t say. I don’t respond, not ready to tell her I already know. Wilder had come to me one night, trying to get me to run away with him. Part of me wondered if the only reason I was still here was because Eldaren had come to my room in the nick of time, interrupting Wilder’s pleading to convince me to leave.

  Lyra continues. “And really, who knows what else they’ve done, or who they’ve hurt? They don’t care about us. We, humans, are nothing to them. They’ve stolen Earth. We need to take it back.” Her scowl deepens.

  “Eldaren cares,” I say quietly, which is more than I meant to say. I bite my lip and fall silent. Hopefully, she doesn’t read too much into it.

  Lyra’s dark brown eyes narrow. “You seem to know a lot about the elven prince. What’s going on between you two?”

  “Nothing,” I lie. I turn away. “It’s just that he hasn’t given me any reason not to trust him. He’s honest and good. He only says what he means.” Boy, does he. His brutal honesty stings, at times. “He hasn’t conducted any experiments on Quinn or me. He’s not like the stories make the elves out to be. None of them are, from what I’ve seen.” I walk over and begin rearranging the books on my bookcase, mostly so she can’t read my expression, and so I’m not forced to look at her grumpy face. “Plus, Quinn is special here. He’s important. And he’s looked after. He has a future here, Lyra. I don’t want him to go back to what he had before. Here, he matters. He can make a difference.”

  Lyra snorts, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe she knows I’m right. I’ve already learned firsthand that there’s no place for people like Quinn in ‘human’ society.

  “Are you going to leave?” I ask.

  “Not if you’re not going to, no,” she says. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “Why not?” I press. I look over my shoulder at her. “You’re a Drifter. You hate staying in any one place for long. You’ve been here a week already.”

  “Because you’re being a dunderhead,” she says. “Maybe you’ll come to your senses in the next few days. You have to. I know the elves tracked you to your house last time, but I wasn’t helping you, then. I know how to sneak and slip away, Stella. Let me know if you change your mind within the next week. I’ll get you and Quinn out, and get you somewhere safe that the elves will never find.”

  She turns and strides for the door, squawking when the door opens, admitting an elf.

  Not just any elf. Eldaren.

  He’s glorious perfection. Tall and broad-shouldered, with long, midnight hair and piercing gray eyes. He looks immaculate in his dark uniform. He nods his head in acknowledgment of Ly
ra. “My apologies,” he says. “It was not my intention to startle you.” He cocks his head, a faint crease appearing on his brow. “Where are your guards, girl?”

  “I told them to take some time off.” Lyra smirks at him.

  “I very much doubt they would listen to your suggestion,” Eldaren says, Lyra’s sarcasm sailing right over his head. His gaze locks with mine, making my heart thump faster. “I am here to invite you to train with me, Stella, in the art of combat.”

  “How romantic,” Lyra scoffs. “You’re going to sweep her off her feet with such smooth talk.”

  Eldaren’s face shows no expression, but I can read his alarm in the slight stiffening of his shoulders. Our relationship—whatever that might be—is supposed to be a secret. “I wasn’t aware that sparring is considered romantic among humans.” His eyes have turned back on Lyra, and I can hear the faintest note of irritation creeping into his tone.

  “It’s not,” Lyra says, eyeing the elf with a dubious expression. “I was being sarcastic.”

  “Ah. I see.” Eldaren’s shoulders relax. “Well then. Shall we?” He directs the question at me. “We can bring your annoying friend along, if you wish.”

  Ignoring Lyra’s snarl of indignation, I nod mutely and follow the prince out, only vaguely aware that Lyra is following us. I was already dressed appropriately for training; clad in a form-fitting shirt and loose trousers, the hems tucked into combat boots.

  My eyes roam over the lean, muscular elf that walks beside me. I’m not sure what to think of him, but I know one thing.

  I am everything to him, and the thought fills me with a combination of elation and dread.

  2

  Stella

  We reach the underground level where a vast room opens up. This is where the elves train, both physically and with magic.

  Elves always seem to be down here at any given time, working hard to keep their bodies in excellent physical condition, but I see a few humans scattered about the room as well. Any humans at the base wield magic of some sort. They don’t have the same physical strength or endurance as an elf, so the greater part of their focus is on enchantment.

  Well, except for me. I’m not special. I’m just a regular girl. No powers, no nothing. It’s only because of the tenuous bond between Eldaren and me that I’m here.

  Looking around, I spot my brother, Quinn. His eyes are scrunched up tight, his body tense. Elves surround him. Anxiety flares in my gut and I begin walking toward him. “Quinn?”

  “Wait.” Eldaren’s fingers dig into my shoulder. “Watch.”

  I pause—mostly because Eldaren’s grip isn’t giving me a choice—my gaze locked on Quinn. My brother has always been a bundle of stress since our parents died, and he’s prone to getting seizures. Was prone to getting them, anyway. Living here with the elves has changed all of that.

  Light radiates from my brother’s hands, and he brings them up and out, palms held upward, and fingers extended. Dark brown hair falls across his forehead, and he pants with exertion. The light shifts into pale strands and an elf extends his own hand, pulling the magic from my brother.

  “What are they doing?” I growl, watching them. I try to wrench my shoulder free. I’m not successful. “What are they taking from Quinn?”

  “Nothing,” Eldaren says. “Or rather, nothing he had before a moment ago. He’s transferring the magic that naturally flows through him. He doesn’t have to transfer it to any one being, but it’s easier to master that, before teaching him to transfer it back into the air. That will come later.”

  I watch my younger brother. He’s opened his eyes, and he beams at the elves around him. I’m too far away to hear the conversation, but he laughs when one of the elves speaks to him.

  “He looks . . . happy,” I say, and I try to swallow the lump of emotion that rises in my throat.

  “He is,” Eldaren says. He is watching my brother, and I detect a hint of pride in his voice. “He can process the constant flow of enchantment, here, and he learns very quickly. He no longer has to take the medicine that dulls his ability, and there’s no need to suffer from seizures. He’s respected instead of shunned. I imagine his existence has much improved.”

  “You make it sound like his life was awful before,” I protest. “It wasn’t all bad.”

  “Yeah,” Lyra pipes up, arching an eyebrow at me. “At least Stella mattered in his life, then.”

  I scowl at her and then look away when I feel the awful burn of tears fill my eyes. Blinking furiously, I lock my gaze on my brother.

  I don’t seem to matter to him, not anymore. He doesn’t ever ask or look for me. He’s perfectly content to immerse himself in his daily schedule, and if that doesn’t include me, so be it.

  “I do believe you are trying to hurt Stella.” Eldaren speaks, an edge of steel in his voice now. “Is that how you treat your friends, Drifter? Shame and belittle them? Say things you know will hurt to prove whatever stupid point you’re trying to make?”

  Lyra flushes an angry red and shakes a finger at Eldaren. “You have no idea what—”

  “I heard you in her room. You were trying to convince Stella to escape, and you’re upset that she didn’t agree to go with you.” Eldaren looks at me, his beautiful eyes flashing with satisfaction before turning his attention back on Lyra. “So you use words you know will sting, to try to manipulate her into doing what you want.” His upper lip curls in a sneer. “You’re free to leave anytime, girl. You have no magic, and I don’t particularly want you here. But Stella stays.”

  “Why?” Lyra presses. Her eyes glitter, dark fingers curled into fists. She stands on her tiptoes to gain more height, though it does little good with Eldaren. The top of Lyra’s head barely comes up to his chest. “Why keep Stella here? She doesn’t appear to have magic herself, so why keep her? What do you see in her, prince?”

  Eldaren doesn’t have a response, his eyes widening slightly, and his mouth a thin line.

  Lyra casts me a withering glance. “Maybe her powers aren’t the magic sort. Maybe being a woman, she already has everything you—”

  “Good afternoon, angry human female.” An arm drapes itself over Lyra’s shoulder, and Sol is suddenly there, leaning down to press his cheekbone against Lyra’s. “Did you miss me?”

  Sol is an elf. He’s shorter than Eldaren, and instead of long black hair, his is blond and cropped short and spiky.

  He and Eldaren lock glances, and Sol shakes his head slightly. I chew my lower lip, wondering what their silent exchange means.

  Lyra blinks up at him. “Have we met?”

  “Not officially,” Sol admits. “But I plan to remedy that. What’s your favorite meal?”

  Lyra shrugs the shoulder that isn’t pressed against Sol. She’s still tense, but her anger is now bewilderment. Sol has that effect on humans, including me. “Um, I don’t know. Pizza, I guess. When I can get it.”

  “Excellent. Dinner, in the upper dining hall, tonight at six-thirty. See you there.” Sol begins to stride away, then pauses and swivels back to Lyra. “Wait. What is your name, girl?”

  Lyra barks a laugh. “It’s Lyra.”

  “What a beautiful name. Good day.”

  “You just got asked out on a date.” I poke Lyra in the ribs and wink at her.

  Lyra glowers at me, but it does nothing to stop the flush rising in her face. “Big deal. I’m sure you’ve been asked out loads of times by the prince.”

  “Nope,” I say. “Eldaren has never asked me out to dinner. Guess he’s too busy to have a romantic relationship.” I turn to Eldaren. “Ready to start training?”

  Hopefully, that is enough to throw Lyra off our trail. Sol once told me to keep my tentative relationship with Eldaren a secret, and though I feel bad not telling Lyra, I don’t trust her not to bungle it. She might spread the news around, simply to complicate Eldaren’s life, or use it to force me to leave.

  Eldaren leads me over to one of the empty mats to train, ending our discussion with Lyra, and soon sh
e is pushed from my mind, replaced with what feels like an endless round of push-ups, lunges, and sprints.

  3

  Wilder

  A long, drawn-out hiss escapes me. I’m crouched on the top of the skeletal frame of a building, burned long ago during the War. It gives me a good view of the elven fortress.

  I study their base, my eyes narrowed. The original structure is still there, but they’ve been adding on to it. Why? It was already a large building to begin with. The reason can hardly matter, though.

  What matters is that Stella is in there. And I haven’t been able to reach her since our last meeting.

  Not seeing Stella is like an itch between my shoulder blades I can’t reach. I sigh wistfully, then growl, my brow lowering. “I miss you, spark of mine,” I whisper fiercely, even though she can’t hear me.

  I’ve tried to visit her no less than five times since I last saw her, over a week ago, and twice I’d almost been intercepted by the elven guards. My face twists at the thought, and my fingers curl into fists. They’ve posted a guard on the grounds, directly under her window. Smart. But I’ll figure something out. I’ve got to.

  A sound reaches my ears and my entire body tenses. I wait and listen for a full ten minutes.

  Nothing. That’s a relief. It must have been a dog, lurking in a nearby alley.

  An elf is hunting me. He has been for the past week. I wouldn’t be too concerned, except he’s come very close to attacking me more than once, and he’s out for my head. I’ve seen him. Blond and rageful. I don’t typically use emotions to describe someone, but this elf is overflowing with unbridled anger. Strange, since they usually seem so emotionless.