Page 96 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“Come with me,” he says to Shade.

Shade moves to follow. His steps are unsteady but determined. Shepherd’s eyes shift to me, still standing behind Shade. “Who’s the boy behind you?”

I expect Shade to say nothing and walk past me like he has for three months. We’ve never spoken. Instead, Shade stops and turns his head just slightly.

“He’s my friend,” he says.

Two words that change my life.

Shepherd studies me for a long moment and takes in my half-Wolven features, my split knuckles, the blood running down my face. Then he nods once. “Get cleaned up. Both of you. You’re training with me now.”

That’s how I meet Shade. Over a piece of chocolate and a night of violence.

Shepherd takes us under his protection and trains us personally. Shade and I become friends. For the first time since my clan died, I’m not alone. But it only lasts for a year.

I’m thirteen years old when Shepherd takes him to the Temple of Kvatosh. The god of war demands tribute from full-blooded elves who wish to become true warriors. Time served in the darkness of his domain.

Shepherd warns me before they leave. “Service in the realm of the god of war distorts time itself. It could be months. Could be decades. Don’t wait for him.”

But I do wait.

I keep working, taking contracts, surviving. The guild promotes me to full Grimsbane at seventeen, youngest in a generation. I’ve completed more missions than most assassins twice my age.

By the time Shade emerges, twenty-three years had passed and I’ve killed fifty-three people and served countless other missions.

I’m in the guild hall when Shepherd finds me.

“He’s out,” the Arbiter says, sliding into the seat beside me.

“How long for him?” I ask.

“Six months, he thinks. Says it felt like no time at all.” Shepherd leans back in his chair. “For us, twenty-three years. He’s going to be confused as hell.”

That is an understatement.

Shade walks into the hall looking exactly as he had the day he left. He is still small and thin, with those unsettling pale eyes. Twenty-three years have passed in the world outside. But in the temple, barely any time has touched him.

Twenty-three years have changed me completely. I’ve grown tall and filled out with muscle. Scars mark my body and my face has hardened from my missions. At six-foot-four, I’m broad-shouldered and the softness of youth is gone from my features. My hands bear calluses from endless weapon work.

Shade is still a kid.

It is deeply awkward.

He stops when he sees me. Those pale eyes widen slightly, the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him.

“Wolf?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re different.”

“I’m aware.” We stare at each other. Twenty-three years of life experience separate us now. I’ve lived an entire adult life while he experienced six months. The boy I fought beside, the friend who claimed me in a courtyard covered in blood, he’s still there. But I’ve moved on.

“You’re tall,” he says finally.

“You’re not.”

Neither of us speaks for a beat. Then the corner of Shade’s mouth lifts slightly in what might be a smile. “I will be. Eventually.”