Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1) by Candice Bundy (book recommendations for teens .TXT) 📕

The couch across from her bed, where Quinn had been sleeping, was empty. Where was Quinn? Had something happened?

She feared the worst.

Taking great care to be silent, Becka slipped out of bed and did a once-over around her room. A hint of movement caught her eye from the balcony, the tiniest of moonlit reflections. Then she noticed a door to the balcony was open a sliver. Approaching on bare feet, Becka hid behind the roses while getting as close to the door as she could.

She was close enough to hear Quinn’s voice in low tones.

“I do not know how to be sure. There have been some hints, but nothing I can pin down with any certainty.”

Another pause.

“Well there was something weird with the funerary shroud that got Astrid upset, but I’m not clear how she might have done that. I was watching all of the time. Then there was this odd thing with the cat’s tail. The fur all fell off when she touched it, but that could mean anything.”

He paused. There was the slightest of whispers. Was there someone out there with him? But no, the sound was tinny, as if far away. Someone on the other end of a phone, then? Perhaps his Enforcer boss?

“Agreed, that’s the only way to be sure. I am keeping a close eye on her. She’s never out of my sight.”

A quiet pause.

“That would be a challenge. The manor is full of not just family, but also guests here for the funeral.”

Becka felt uncomfortable listening in, but couldn’t stop herself. The nagging feeling at the back of her mind hadn’t gone away. Quinn’s voice was hard. Rough. Devoid of the laid back and mirthful attitude she’d come to think of as his hallmark.

“There’s additional security watching her as well. It may be best to wait until after.”

The whispering noise was louder this time. Irate.

“I understand your frustration.”

Another infuriating pause.

“If she goes missing now, it would draw attention. Waiting until after the funeral is ideal. It’s unlikely any of the fae will keep track of her after she leaves.”

A shot of adrenaline iced through her veins, the frantic beating of her heart suddenly the only sound she could hear. Missing? Becka couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had she completely misread Quinn’s intentions? From their conversations, she’d never had an inkling of this from him.

Shaking in fear, or was it anger, Becka snuck back over to the bed and hid under the covers. She couldn’t risk confronting Quinn with what she’d overheard or him knowing she’d eavesdropped on his conversation. She might have misread what he said. But what if she hadn’t? Her heart ached. The agreements to help him hunt down Tesse’s killer...had all that been a ruse on his part?

There would be no cheering of Becka when she helped find the killer. Not that she needed cheering, but a bit of appreciation and validation would go a long way.

She should have taken Brent up on his offer, but it was too late now without Quinn asking some uncomfortable questions.

Remembering their conversation about his gift, Becka hatched a plan to ferret out the truth.

Chapter 12

“You have been unusually quiet this morning,” Quinn said, hovering over her. His look of concern heightened his already alert appearance as he scanned the crowd. But then, no one had expected the House of Staves Enforcer to be subtle.

Becka side-eyed him. He didn’t have the look of someone who was planning to abduct her. But how would she know? Cautious in her word choice, she whispered back. “Hush. The demonstrations are about to begin.”

Her clever idea from last night seemed less feasible in the light of day. She’d planned to use his limitation to always speak the truth and turn it to her advantage, catching him out. However, what if his plans were, indeed, sinister? If she did catch him, what then? Surely him recognizing she knew his plans would place her at greater risk. Perhaps even forcing him into action ahead of schedule. So, instead, Becka stewed in her thoughts and fears, hoping for inspiration.

At least the headache hadn’t returned. Yet.

They stood in a wooded grove consisting of aspen with a few conifers sprinkled into the mix. Large glacier-deposited boulders dotted the landscape. A broad, flat boulder lay at center stage. A young cousin of hers stood upon the rock.

It was day three out of seven on the ceremonial wearing of gray for the attendees, and Becka’s choice to wear black stood out even more so from the throng. True to the fae-touched embrace of creative expression, the range of variation in design did not disappoint. Yet the field felt like it was swaddled in mediocrity, the color gray drowning out the bright green summer leaves of the aspen and muffling the brilliant points of color gifted by hundreds of wildflowers.

Which was fitting for a funeral observance. Ugh.

“We are far enough back I am confident the performers cannot hear us,” he whispered.

“They do not like to be called performers. They are presenters of homages to the departed.”

What could she say to him after overhearing his phone call last night? Are you planning to abduct me on the way home? Where are you planning to take me after the funeral? 

At least she didn’t have to worry about any of the family or guests initiating conversations with her. The most contact she’d had with anyone besides Quinn today was brushing against them as they milled around the grove waiting for the presentations to begin.

Quinn chuckled under his breath. “What do you care?”

Becka shrugged. She needed to be here, on so many levels today. Not only in remembrance of her sister, but also to give herself an excuse not to chat and to roll her options with Quinn over in her mind. Her stomach soured in anticipation. Perhaps if she could catch Brent and ask him to transport her home, then she’d foil Quinn’s plans? Assuming he had nefarious plans?

“I am here for my sister,” she replied. “And