The Shadow Reader by Sandy Williams Read Free Book Online

I breathe again, but count to a hundred just in case. After one last scan of the inn’s yard, I tie one end of the rope around the radiator bolted beneath the window and then toss the other end outside. Even with the knots, it reaches almost to the ground.
    It’s a heck of a lot harder climbing out than I imagined, and I’m not sure how to go about it without getting myself killed. I end up straddling the ledge, a difficult thing to do since the window isn’t that big. Slowly, carefully, I let myself slip down until my left leg, which had been inside the inn, pulls over the edge and scrapes down the side wall. I have no idea how much noise I’m making, but at this point, I can’t do anything about it.
    I grab the rope with my right hand, then let go of the windowsill with my left. As soon as I do, I start falling. I tighten my hands around the sheet, but I’m sliding too fast. My palms burn until I hit my first thick knot and yelp—softly, so as not to draw attention. I glance up at the window, wonder if I should try to get back inside. Shaking my head, I decide against it, grit my teeth, then let the next sheet sear through my palms. I meet another knot. Then another.
    There’s blood on the white cotton now. I’m still half a story above the ground when it hurts too much to hold on. I manage to land on my feet, but a sharp twinge of pain shoots through my legs and I crumple over. As I’m down on all fours drawing cold air into my lungs, it occurs to me just how big an idiot I am for trying a stunt I’ve seen done only on TV. I could have broken my neck.
    But I didn’t, I remind myself. I’m alive. I’m outside. I’m alone.
    Careful to keep my blistered hands off the grass, I push to my knees and stand. I wait a second for a wave of dizziness to pass—God, I need some sleep—then quietly move away from the inn.
    Thump.
    I stop, glance over my shoulder.
    Aren. Shit. He must have heard the window opening after all and followed me down. He stares up at my makeshift rope, gives it a little tug, then turns his silver eyes on me.
    “You’re certainly resourceful,” he says. “I must give you that.”
    His hands don’t look sheet-burned. Mine are on fire. I try to hide them, try to appear unconcerned that he’s interrupted my escape attempt, but when he strides forward, I tense. What if I’ve made him change his mind? What if he thinks it’s too risky to keep me alive?
    He doesn’t hit or scold me. He takes one of my hands between his and flares his magic. Blue lightning skitters down his arms and his palm is suddenly a warm compress against mine. After a few uncomfortable seconds, the achy warmth changes. It feels good now. So does the electric tingle pulsing toward my elbow. I allow him to touch me longer than I should, long enough for some of the jagged blue lines to leap from his skin to mine. They’re bright in the moonlight. I watch them pirouette around my forearm, very aware Aren’s watching them as well.
    “Edarratae,” he says. “Chaos lusters.”
    “I know what they are,” I tell him, trying to ignore the sensations the lightning, the edarratae , sends careening through me.
    “You can let go.” I try to tug my hand free.
    “You could have killed yourself.” He releases my right hand to take my left, carefully avoiding the watch strapped around my wrist. This palm isn’t hurt as badly as the other, but he heals the skin with another warm touch.
    “That would have made Lena happy.”
    His gaze meets mine. “Yes. Yes, it would have.”
    I don’t like the way he continues staring into my eyes. It reminds me of Kyol and how mesmerized he always is by them. To me, they’re nothing extraordinary, just a plain brown color a few shades darker than my hair. My features are slightly different from a fae woman’s—my cheekbones aren’t quite as prominent, my nose not quite as sharp—but Aren’s not analyzing the rest of my face right now. I wish he would because the intensity of his gaze