Shadows of the Crown

17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Ariella

A fternoon light creates deep shadows along the edges of shops and houses. I stare at them longingly as I pass, suddenly feeling the weight of the realms on my shoulders.

Just one day.

One day to not think about the endless tasks I must fulfill before I take the prince’s life. A finger taps—I could resume my original plan to eliminate the king…I sigh, stretching my sore neck.

One day to not be seen as the Silver Wraith, or to not have groups of people whisper amongst themselves as I walk by, because I decided to not cover my hair.

My eyes flit to several men huddled together as each of them touches the terrified woman they surround. Ordinarily, I would not bother to interfere with the shit that happens on Valoria’s streets, but my training earlier was not nearly enough to stave the raging heat in my gut. My hands itch to play.

I turn on my heel and saunter to the group. They are standing in front of a darkened dress shop that has a large display window with a hanging paper that indicates it is closed. I stop just behind one of the men who’s about my height, my nose scrunching at his musty clothing and greasy, matted blonde hair. None of the six men notice me at first, continuing to taunt the now-crying woman.

It should be against Eldoria’s law for women to not be trained in defensive strategy during their schooling—because abhorrent men like this exist, and the day a woman willingly fucks someone like them is the day I meet the Angel.

I nearly gag as their shifting movement reminds me just how many people in this city do not understand how to use a bath. I almost regret involving myself, but flashes of the prince’s words invade my mind and I clear my throat loudly enough for each of them to quiet and turn toward me. The one closest to me jolts back, pushing the rest into the window. The woman peeks around the ones still surrounding her, her eyes widening before she retreats, as if to find solace in those that were threatening her not a moment before.

If looks could kill…

“What is it you boys think you’re doing?” My voice is sweet. Inviting.

The others look to the musty one for an answer. Pathetic.

“Nothing—just having a little fun with our friend here.” He grabs her arm and jerks her to the front. I chuckle, unsheathing my blade and twirling it idly through my fingers. My eyes find the man who whimpers— whimpers —and I study him. His hair is cut flat to his oblong head, receding at the front. He wears brown trousers with a cream top that is poorly tucked in.

“What is her name?” I question lightly, my tone non-threatening while my eyes suggest otherwise.

The leader frowns, blinking several times. “What?”

I offer a saccharine smile and nod to the one in question. “You said she was your friend.” I take a step forward, one of the cowards attempting to run, but an arm blocks his path as another demands he not move. “So, what. Is. Her. Name?”

“Lila,” the woman mutters quietly, casting her eyes to the cobblestone.

“Did I ask you?” She swallows loudly, shaking her head. “Did you want to be near them?”

She peers up at me. “What?”

“Fuck's sake, are you all truly so mindless? Did you want to be near them or not? Do not make me repeat myself again.” Lila hesitates before whispering no, though she stands still, as if she's not sure which direction is safer.

“That wasn't so difficult.” I look to the grimy men, curling my lip. “Leave before I decide to render you all cockless for the rest of your miserable lives,” I command darkly. They foolishly block each other's paths and trip over nothing as they run down the street. Lila hugs herself, eyes flitting from me to the street carefully .

“Learn how to use a blade, will you? Because if I catch you in such a position again, you'll be the first to meet mine.” I spin on my heel and stalk away, wiping sweat from my forehead.

The thick air replaces the slick along my skin after only a moment, and I curse the Angel for whatever the fuck it did to the seasons. I pass dozens of wilted plants and gardens as I walk, almost feeling bad for how neglected they appear.

I finally arrive at the guild and ascend the steps, tripping over something on the last one. I hop on one foot to right myself, my eyes searching for whatever caught it, but there is nothing there. My forehead creases—I know there was something…

Two floating green circles appear on the top step, and my hand slaps to my chest as I laugh deeply. “Myst, you sneaky creature. Don’t you know it’s rude to trip a trained killer?” The eyes rise, and her short fur shifts from a grainy black to a pretty orange—the same color as the setting sun. She stretches before rubbing her face along my leg and sauntering to the door.

I watch with a raised brow as she sits next to the entrance, waiting like a princess to be serviced. “Ridiculous cat,” I mutter, stalking to the door and sweeping my arm for her to enter ahead of me, lest she complain to Marek that I’m abusing her. “Where’s Marek?” Her eyes flick toward his office before meeting mine. “Can you fetch Jaxon?” She huffs but trots down the hall that will take her to his room .

I nod to Eva—one of our more reserved students, who is painting the sunset next to a window—as I walk to my mentor’s office and knock, shoving the door open the moment he answers. His head snaps up, ready to reprimand whoever dared to be disrespectful, but his deep-set eyes soften when they spot me. He assesses me like a worried father before settling into his chair, crossing his arms.

“Where’s Isaiah?” I drop into one of the seats opposite him, leaning my head back over the edge.

“Probably fucking his new admirer.” That was more bitter than I’d intended.

“Ari,” he sighs, swiping a hand over his chin, pinning me with a disapproving look.

I wave my hand and stare at the ceiling. “Whatever—I haven’t much time, and I came here to talk to you and Jaxon about something.”

“Talk to me about what?” I bend back further, taking in Jaxon’s reverse, tall form. “Thanks, Myst.” He bends to scratch her head, dismissing the now-gray cat and closing the door softly.

“She tried to fucking trip me earlier,” I announce, muttering about how bitchy she is under my breath.

“She was just having fun. Scouting has been quiet lately, and she’s bored.”

“Well she can cloak somewhere else—I’m not in the fucking mood. ”

Marek looses an even heavier sigh. “All right, what’s going on?”

My finger taps on the arm of the chair as I explain events that occurred in the second trial and my suspicions about them. Jaxon will likely need a healer with the way his jaw remains unhinged, though Marek’s expression remains stoic.

“You must be lying…there is no possible way you survived a griffin attack!” I tense, my head slowly panning to Jaxon.

“Are you certain you’d like to accuse me of lying?” He gulps, licking his lips twice before looking to Marek for help.

“Ariella, enough. I understand you’re angry, but killing him will help no one.”

“Killing me?” Our strategist shrieks, shrinking into his chair as I remove my glare.

Marek chuckles, eyes creasing as he leans on his elbows against the desk. “Don’t threaten her if you can’t handle the same, then.”

“Threaten her? When did I threaten her?”

“Jaxon. If you’re alive, you’re a threat to her—you know this.” My eyes get lost in one of the two dimly lit lamps, the men’s bickering stirring feelings from earlier.

I need to move.

I stand abruptly, swiping my hands over my hips. “As enjoyable as this is, I only came to tell you that I am being targeted.” They both snap their mouths shut, focusing on me. I turn for the door as I continue, “I’m unaware of any attempts on Isaiah, nor am I privy to any plans to attack the guild. If you hear of anything happening outside the castle walls, look into it.”

“And you?” Marek questions softly. I breathe deeply before looking over my shoulder.

“The person behind this is bound to slip up when they realize I’m not easy to kill. And when they do slip, it’s my blade they’ll fall onto.” He nods, dismissal enough for me to rush through to the front doors, ignoring the way a group of students quiets when I pass.

My chest heaves as I step into the cooling air, droplets of rain beginning to fall. My head tilts back, and I allow my shoulders to slump.

I’m not frustrated that he called me beautiful…I’m frustrated because of how closely he’s had to watch me to notice.

He already fucking knows of my unreported essence, which blares the question: what else is he seeing? Does he know of my plans to kill him, and that is the rationale of why he’s as preoccupied with me as Gavriel claims?

“Shit,” I groan, pushing my feet forward to hurry back. I dropped him and stalked away when he complimented me—that rejection could be enough motivation for him to run off with my most closely held secrets.

My mind slows as I breathe in the distinctly appeasing smell of the rain. It is easy to feel watched by every eye under the Angel’s sun, but when it rains like this? It’s as if I am encased in my own little realm, where I am invisible and untouchable.

It’s freeing.

I turn into an alley—a shortcut and refuge. Despite the night just beginning, the shadows are heavy and meager light creeps into the space. I tug on my umbral strand and call the familiar tendrils to my hand, the hint of a smile forming when they emerge. They are like an extension of me. I need only call to the strand once, and they are mine to control without additional weaving. That is not how the other strands behave—

Something pierces my thigh as I walk, and in the next heartbeat my blade is across the alley, sinking into the assailant's heart. I have but a moment to look at the arrow jutting from my leg before another whizzes past my face—so close the end brushes the tip of my nose. I pull the shadows over me and step back to the sleek brick wall.

“Where did she go?” one shouts over the pouring rain, squinting his eyes at three of his friends entering from the other side. I cannot help the giddy laugh that bellows out of me, causing the remaining six attackers to pause.

It doesn’t matter if they witness my use of forbidden essence…their mouths will no longer work by the time I’ve had my fun.

And this will be fun .

I run to the left, only letting the shadows go when I maneuver up against the wall, pushing off and swinging my foot into the closest man’s head. The hit sends him careening into the brick, where a distinct crunch overpowers the rain, followed by his brain matter draining through the cracks.

My eyes find the one who shot the arrow, giving him a maniacal smile as I practically bounce on my eager feet. Grabbing the intrusion in my thigh, I rip it out and toss it to the side. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Their eyes widen before battle cries sound, all five charging in my direction. I duck as a sword aims for my neck, kicking the knees out of another, forcing his body into the path of the sword. He screams when it separates his torso and hot blood slaps my face.

I unsheathe a second blade, planting my feet to take the blow of a shoulder to my abdomen. The man slams me back against the wall, my legs wrapping around his waist to hold my body steady. It proves difficult, as the fabric of his thick pants does not soak in water properly, making them slick.

I cannot see his face, but his panting breaths graze my cheek as I bare my teeth to his ear. “All this trouble just to get between my legs?” He stiffens, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Though I think you’ll find I’m too expensive for you—because the price is your life…and I collect payment up front.” Strangled noises abandon his throat when I shove my blade into the base of his spine and clench my jaw as I drag it up through as many vertebrae as I can manage before the three remaining men yank his body from me.

My feet are quick to catch me, and I throw my arms in the direction of their gurgling friend. “Oh, come on, boys! Can’t a girl have a little fun? I was almost at the top!” I cackle, noticing for the first time red masks covering their faces.

The bulkier man looks to the others as they stalk closer. “Let’s just go! She’s dead, anyway!” They hesitate.

“Oh, I’m not the one dying here tonight,” I purr, taking a single step forward, smiling sweetly. “But it’s cute you think I’ll allow you to live.”

The man to my right swings, his arm blocked by mine as I tilt to kick the one to my left. I do not watch his back meet the ground, instead grabbing the wrist touching me and twisting sharply. He cries out, his shoulder following the movement. One moment he’s whimpering in pain, and the next he wears his head backwards.

From my peripheral, the man I kicked scrambles to stand, slipping repeatedly. I spin and thrust my fist into the last assailant, rendering him unconscious. I’ll deal with him later.

I tug on my psionic strand, intending to stop the attacker running down the alley. Nothing pulls.

I try my umbral strand. My brows furrow—no pull. I cannot grasp any strand .

The squeak of his boot grabs my focus once more. “Fuck,” I mutter as I reach down to pull my blade from another’s spine, twisting to fling it into the neck of the last one standing. He grunts, falling forward, and I frown as his skin slaps against the puddle.

Impressive, actually. He made it to the head of the alley before I got him. I almost allowed this pathetic excuse of a life to slip through my fingers.

Unacceptable.

I reach him, rolling my eyes when I hear his violent sobs. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I reach for his jacket and pull him back to his knees, stepping around his shivering body to crouch before him. “You’re seriously going to cry during your last moments in this realm? You attacked me …that’s fucking pitiful.”

He attempts to hold back, his lip quivering from faltering breaths. Saliva begins foaming around his mouth, and my nose scrunches hard. I shake my head, waving a hand in his direction. “Actually, cry all you want. That’s disgusting.” His eyes begin to gloss over—I’m running out of time. “Who sent you?”

He focuses on something over my shoulder, forcing me to snap my fingers in his face to garner the attention I seek. “Who. Sent. You?” I demand, not kindly.

“He’ll get what he wants. He always gets what he wants,” he breathes, coughing blood from the movement.

“What the fuck does that mean? Who?” He slips before I finish asking, splashing into the puddle once more.

My fingers tap against each other as I look up, barely able to make out the shapes of the other six men. I stand, snatching my blade and marching to the unconscious one. I shove it through his chin, ignoring his last hissing breath when a speck of gold peeks from under his black, oversized jacked. My hands rip the buttons open, pausing when—even in the dark—the red and gold of the royal crest sears into my eyes.

I tug on my luminal strand, needing to confirm what my mind tells me I’m seeing. I still cannot tug on that, or any, strand. My fists clench to the point skin tears from the pressure of my nails.

There is only one reason I can’t access my essence. One reason why my leg does not hurt in the slightest after being penetrated with an arrow.

I reach to dig my fingers into the wound where a thick, oily substance coats the tips. I hold them up, narrowing my eyes—there’s no need for any light. I would recognize that deep blue from a realm away.

“Fuck me!” I slice the crest from the royal guard, pocketing the palm-sized fabric. I waste no time grabbing the arrow that pierced me and sprinting back to the castle.

I take stock of my body, cursing when I’m unable to tell if I’m cold because of the weather or the poison. I have maybe an hour before it infects me with permanent damage .

My stomach flutters. There is only one person I can go to this with…he holds all my other secrets. What’s one more?

I reach the castle quickly, my vision beginning to blur at the edges. I pass several guards and staff who stare with their mouths agape—I’m certain I look terrifying, dripping with endless water and blood.

I enter the prince’s hallway, Gavriel immediately pushing from the wall and blocking my path to the door I need.

“Move or meet the Angel,” I demand, stopping in front of the version I think is the real him from the two standing before me.

“Fuck off. Thought I told you to stay away.”

“Let me see him. Now.” We study each other, and I am so close to shoving this arrow through his infuriating eyes.

“No.”

“Gavriel, I swear to the fucking Angel.” My shouting is certainly reaching other wings of the castle. Fuck if I care—I feel as though I’ve drunk several bottles of wine. A poison that makes you enjoy dying—at least the king had good taste. “You will let me see him right now.”

“Are you fucking drunk? You can’t even talk straight. You’re absolutely not getting near him.” I’m not confident I’ll hit his face if I try, but that does not deter my attempt. I swing my fist and he catches it easily, to my utter confusion .

“What is going on, Gav?” A door swings open, the prince’s eyes widening when he sees me. He rushes over, taking my hand from Gavriel’s. “Ariella…are you okay? What happened?”

“Is—it’s not my—mine,” I stutter, scrunching my eyes closed at the intense wave of dizziness swimming through me.

“Are you drunk?” My eyes slowly snap open, meeting his concerned gaze.

I think I shake my head. “No—fuck, I’m dizzy,” I giggle— giggle —and pull out the arrow I tucked under my arm. “Hallow. I don—don’t have saida.”

He pales. “By the Angel. Fuck. Gavriel, get Elowen.” I murmur something about him being a good boy and listening. “You,” he tugs me gently through an open door, “are coming with me. You’ll kill me if I let anyone see you like this.”

I laugh, groaning at the pain in my chest. “I’m will kill you any—way, dear prince,” I sing, pressing a hand to my ribs.

“Stop talking, Ariella. Fucking Angel, your fingers are turning blue already. How long ago did this happen?” Who does he think he is to question me?

“Be—fore I came got here.” He huffs a breath, pulling me down onto something soft.

I fall back to my elbows, sinking lightly into the fluffy material. Something is…is not right. I cannot ascertain what he says next, but the room shifts and I’m covered with what seems to be every blanket in the realm .

“No,” I drag out the word on a whine, weakly attempting to push the inferno off. “So hot.” Hands grab mine, their touch warm but comforting. And a reminder.

I’m dying.

“I know, angel. But I need to keep your body temperature up.” I wince at a loud noise, followed by shouting. I attempt to tell them to turn the damn sun off, though my traitorous lungs are barely working.

“—must drink—the saida will neutralize—” A woman’s voice.

My head is lifted as someone pleads with me to swallow the vile substance they pour into my mouth. I do just to get them to shut up, reaching for my blade when they don’t. My hands do not listen.

But the lack of my body’s response is not what alarms me.

Several voices and blurry figures surround me as they rip my pants off against my every protest before forcing more revolting shit down my throat.

“Caspian, calm do—next to her and hold—back to her room—”

“No. She stays with me.” The prince’s declaration replays over and over until there’s nothing.