The Shadow Prince’s Ruin (Dark Companions #2)

Chapter 22

Hawk

I jerk up to my knees in a frenzy, and when my toes find only empty space, the heavy backpack weighs me down. With a yelp of panic, I fall another dozen of inches, and finally stop with my eyes glued to the open hatch in the ceiling above. What I see there makes no sense, because the cave floor we stood on not that long ago is now... up there. As if the small square door is where gravity flips.

Did we fall… in reverse ? It’s not something my brain can accept at face value, but as a fabric-covered shape jerks under Sylvan, he too jumps off the massive bed we’ve landed on with a high-pitched shriek. That’s all the motivation I need. Nothing’s going to happen to him on my watch!

But as I get to my feet and am about to reach for a sword hanging on the wall, the velvet blanket uncovers the monster we’ve accosted, and as it turns out… it was no monster at all.

Sky blue eyes watch me from a face handsome as if it’s been chiseled by one of those famous artists from Italy. He’s young, with red hair styled into elaborate braids. He could be a model, if it wasn’t for the scar cutting across his cheek.

“What… are you?” I ask, pulling Sylvan behind me as we both study the stranger staring back at us from a massive wooden bed with a dragon-shaped headboard.

“What am I ?” the stranger asks, adjusting his black shirt. He has the same elongated ears as Sylvan, but his accent is deeper, more melodic. He takes us in, much less fazed than I would have been if two men had woken me up by falling on top of me from the ceiling. “It is you who crawled into my bed without permission.”

“This is not what we expected, but we will be on our way,” Sylvan says, but the man isn’t having it and grabs his wrist.

I slap it away, and the stranger frowns at me. He stands on the bed, hands on hips, as if attempting to show off his belt made out of a variety of coins. Not that he has any pants. He wears the belt over the shirt, which is fortunately long enough to just about cover his crotch.

“I demand an explanation. You came from Tassarion’s forge, and he always gives me a heads-up about anyone passing through. And pays for it.”

When Sylvan and I both remain silent, wondering how to respond, the man continues. “There’s but one explanation: Tassarion is no more.”

“That’s a bit far-fetched—” I try.

The elf silences me with a gesture. “Unfortunate. He and I had a good working relationship for over twenty years. Alas, what’s done cannot be undone,” he says and grabs the slender yet intricately decorated blade off the wall. I’m ready to dash for the nearby stool, to use it as a shield, but the man leaps onto the floor with the grace of a buck in his prime and offers us a smile. “No matter. At least I no longer owe him a debt for this beauty. Best sword I ever had. It’s a pity he won’t make any more weapons of such prime quality.”

Sylvan releases a long sigh, but his shoulders loosen a little. “We shall bother you no more—” he tries, but is once more thwarted by the chatty elf.

“I do not advise that. You,” he points to me with his sword, “are human, and you,” he turns to Sylvan, “are the shortest elf in the Realm, Prince Sylvan Goldweed. Banished. Therefore you must be here illegally.”

Sylvan’s face turns pink. “I do not need to explain anything to you!”

The elf spreads his arms. “Where are my manners? Maybe if you know who I am, it will be easier for us to speak plainly about your predicament, Your Highness. I am Fenren, King of Smugglers, and Procurer of Things. I too walk the shadowed path, only adjacent to the law. I see no silver collar around your neck, but the purple burns on your throat tell me it has not been taken off by our benevolent Lord of the Nocturne Court. If you walk out of my tavern like this, who knows how fast the news of your arrival will spread?”

I stare at him in horror, because if he could identify us both so easily, then so can everyone else. We need to rethink this. As my thoughts drift to the possible disguises we could utilize, I take in the dark interior illuminated with just a few candles. Panels of carved wood decorate all the walls, heavy velvet curtains obscure the only window, and… gargoyles stare at us from every corner of the ceiling. This place looks like the fever dream of a rich goth chick.

I squeeze Sylvan’s shoulder as he stiffens, touching the marks on his neck. “No… the grimsmith did that.”

Fenren clicks his tongue and approaches a desk, which belongs here like a fist belongs in a person’s eye. White, plain, and made of particle board rather than wood, it’s a cheap, mass- produced item from the world of humans. Maybe even from IKEA. But on top of it is a glass of black crystal, and a decanter in the shape of a howling wolf, which contains a black liquid. Still, Fenren has a sip of it and smiles at us, as if it’s exactly what he needs after such a rude awakening.

“So he removed the collar off your neck, and you removed his head from his shoulders? Naughty,” he adds playfully and wags his finger at us.

I might not be the most moral of men, but even I’m freaked out by the casual way he’s discussing the death of someone he apparently worked with for so many years. I’ve met some crazy guys in prison, and an attack might come at any moment from someone like this.

“Forgive me for meeting you in my underwear, unless…” He lets the silent proposition hang in the air as he gestures at the huge bed that would easily accommodate all three of us.

“No.” Sylvan frowns and steps back, even pinker than before, but then he grabs my hand. It’s so sweet that it’s me he reaches for when uncertain, even though I’m only human and have no other ways to protect him than my strength.

Fenren throws a braid over his shoulder. “Ah! I see… You woke me up so abruptly I’m still getting my bearings, but it all makes sense now. It’s a full moon day! And this, Your Highness, will be your Dark Companion. How splendid! A wedding at The Burning Corpse! We will provide all, as I’m sure you wish to spare no expense on a day of such great importance.”

There’s that stereotype about men being coerced into marriage—the cuffed groom cake toppers, bachelor parties all about losing freedom, grooms holding up signs with the phrase save me at the altar, but while I never gave much thought to formalizing any of my relationships, the moment Fenren presents me with the idea of celebrating my blooming romance with Sylvan, I know that this is exactly what I want.

“How does that work here?” I ask, and the elf rests on a carved stool, capturing my gaze. His shirt rides up dangerously high on his bare thighs, so I hope he is wearing bottoms of some kind, or I might have to cover Sylvan’s eyes.

“Well, both here and in your world, the particulars are a matter of custom and wealth. But since you are marrying a royal of the Nocturne Court, you will have the most lavish party money can buy. We will bring out the best spirits, hire many musicians, so that the songs can flow all night without break. I will also personally see to you wearing the finest fabrics. Excuse me for being blunt,” he says and points to us both, “but neither a prince nor his Dark Companion should celebrate their union in rags.”

Sylvan hasn’t complained about my basic outfit of hoodie and sweatpants, but Fenren does have a point. Maybe I should change into their version of a suit at least.

Sylvan raises one hand while squeezing me more firmly with the other. “No, no, no need for any of that. All we need is our vows to one another.”

I stall, staring at our linked fingers. “What? But you said it would be a real wedding.”

Fenren leans against the desk and finishes his drink. “That is baffling, Your Highness. Surely, you are not trying to get all the benefit yet offer your promised no public commitment? There is no divorcing a Dark Companion. This is a once-in-a-lifetime celebration. You need the rose, the candle, the lace and frills, the spectacle . While lowborn, every guest in my tavern downstairs could be a joyful witness. Your human deserves that much at least for what he is offering.”

Sylvan’s ears twitch, which I’ve already learned is often a sign of nervousness. While I can see that he’s being prodded, it does feel kind of frustrating that he seems to want our marriage vows to be over with instead of following the customs of his own world. The choice is his at the end of the day. It’s not my money, but I do give him an expectant look. Is it really so wrong of me to want a celebration?

Sylvan clears his throat and gestures for me to put down the backpack. “Until I’m back at court, I only have select items and jewelry I can pay with,” he says, staring Fenren down like a dragon sitting on its hoard.

“Oh, let me see!” Fenren jumps to his feet and is at Sylvan’s side in an instant, eyes glistening with greed. “We will have to make the best of what’s here, and then write up a debt contract for all the other frills.”

I swallow and stroke Sylvan’s hand as our host pulls out a string of black pearls from a little velvet bag. “Yes, I can make this work. The best food The Burning Corpse can offer, the finest clothes, and guests to confirm that the prince treated his beloved Dark Companion right.”

I know what Fenren is doing, but I am marrying a prince. Do I not deserve a bit of luxury?

But as the elf pulls out the lava lamp and Sylvan’s hand tightens, I step forward. “Not this. Sentimental value.”

Sylvan swallows and looks up at me with the saddest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen. “No, it’s fine. He is right, you deserve to be treated like royalty, as that is what you will soon be.” When he turns to Fenren though, it’s as if he becomes a different person, the mask of dignity back on, and gaze sharp as daggers. “I need to keep a few trinkets and books, but other than that, all my possessions can be yours to keep. But do not think me a fool. We expect not only a celebration and lodgings, but also a guide to lead us to the Nocturne Court through the forest, and provisions for the trip. I have no doubt that someone who calls himself the King of Smugglers knows which routes are both safe and secretive.”

Fenren’s eyes narrow. “You strike a hard bargain, my prince. Very well,” he says and shakes Sylvan’s hand. The ease with which he agrees tells me he’s getting paid extra handsomely for his effort, but I decide not to mention it, because this is Sylvan’s moment, and I don’t want to embarrass him. I’m still a bit dazed about him willing to part with all the prized possessions I’d carried for him, just because he wants to treat me.

I watch Sylvan pack some items into the smaller bag while obscuring the Sunwolf crown with a shawl. I’m touched when I see him consider the jar with the redpole, only to take that too.

Fenren claps his hands and pulls a wide-skirted robe off the hanger. The lush dark blue fabric covers his undershirt and bare legs. His feet then go into leather slippers, and he opens the door, leading us out of his room. Initially, we’re in the tight channel of a hallway that likely belongs to his personal apartment, but then he takes us through a locked door, and the scenery changes.

I wouldn’t call the corridor palatial, since I manage to hit my head on the first beam in the way, but it’s definitely something straight from a fancy fantasy tavern. Only that the dark stone making up the floor and walls is real rather than made of Styrofoam.

I take the moment while we walk to arrange it all in my head. Everything I’ve experienced since meeting Sylvan is like a lucid dream and I hope I’ll never wake up. I’m no longer a fugitive, and I’ll be at Sylvan’s side and help him however I can with his plan of regaining his position at this Nocturne Court.

He first chose me for my shadow, but we’ve been through so much since that fateful night at Best Burgers Bonanza. Our feelings for each other are real. I might be a toppy guy, the kind of person who wants to protect those he loves. But it’s nice to be treated for once and for someone else to not just talk about their love, but to show it. Like I’m worthy of it. Like I’m not just a convenient means to an end, a big dick, or useful for my fists.

I can’t wait to explore this elven world alongside my perfect little prince and taste all it has to offer. I still haven’t wrapped my mind around us having a forever, and a part of me fears that it’s not Sylvan but me who’s having a mental breakdown and imagining things that aren’t there.

As we continue past numbered doors, toward a wide arch where the corridor leads into a more open space, I hear an unfamiliar melody, the murmur of many voices, and sense the aroma of grilled meat. A woman passes us in clothes that, while black as night, remind me of the one Ren Faire I’ve been to. She’s holding a platter with something the size of an ostrich leg on a bed of root vegetables and mushrooms. The skin on that meat looks so crispy my mouth waters.

“We will eat soon,” Sylvan says and strokes my hand.

I’m embarrassed by my voracity, but it’s still sweet of him to pay attention to my needs without me even saying anything.

Fenren doesn’t give me any time to contemplate a snack break and steps beneath the bright light of a massive chandelier made of bone and antler.

Green flames, like the ones I’ve already seen in the caves, burn all over it, illuminating the mezzanine around the whole interior, and the bar below. Curious eyes begin to follow us, but Fenren is already ushering us through a door adorned with a silvery moon instead of a number.

“Rest please, and soon I will send a tailor. I have much to prepare.” And even though he’s a self-proclaimed king, Fenren still bows to Sylvan.

I am dazzled once more. This room is redder than the curtains in Fenren’s bedroom, and an elegant black fountain stands on a table in the middle of it. Cascades of red liquid drizzle into a dish at its bottom. Going by the elegant goblets next to it, I’m guessing it’s a drink, not blood.

Cushioned benches around the table invite us to sit down, but I stall halfway there, because the mirror I pass doesn’t show my likeness.

I cock my head with a growing frown. “Do… humans not have reflections here?”

Sylvan rolls his eyes and steps next to me, but the mirror doesn’t show him either. “Cheap trick for a vampire-themed parlor.” He sighs and points to a fresco of three elves in black coats feasting on a fainting maiden whose white dress is so see-through we’re treated to a view of her stiff nipples.

“Is this… a love hotel?” I ask but Fenren shakes his head and gestures to the table in the middle. “And also… there’s vampires here?”

“This is but a humble inn on the crossroads. Rest and enjoy yourself, while I work my magic,” Fenren says and taps one of the coin ornaments in his hair. He’s handsome, though his beauty is sharp as a razor where Sylvan is adorable and juicy like the ripest peach. Does this mean we have… time to ourselves?

As soon as our host is gone, I turn back to Sylvan, only to see him… steal a fork? My eyebrows rise, and when his eyes meet mine, Sylvan frowns despite turning pinker by the second.

“What? We don’t know what we might need on the way, and he took my gold and sapphire set of cutlery. It’s only fair that I keep this.”

The floor seems to give in under the weight growing in my chest. Has Fenren seen my insecurity and manipulated me into spending more of Sylvan’s money? We can’t know if our efforts to reestablish Sylvan at court will be successful, and if we end up spending everything we have on one party… I remember sometimes laughing at people who got into heavy debt to buy luxury items they couldn’t afford. How is this any different?

I clear my throat and pull him closer. “Maybe you were right? It’s a lot of money, Sylvan.”

Sylvan exhales and runs his pretty fingers through his hair. “No, I kept the most important books, we have the mask , and your redpole. Life is harsh and will always try to pluck your riches off you. As a royal Companion, you deserve so much more than I can offer today anyway. Maybe it’s for the better. The road ahead of us might be tough, and I do not wish to burden you with the heavy load.”

“That’s… really sweet, but I don’t want your life to be ‘harsh’,” I whisper and pull him close, until his face is squished between my pecs. I love seeing him like this, so small, and soft, and in need of my protection. But while I’ve never wanted another guy to take care of me in any way, this feels good. If this blue-blooded beauty thinks I’m worthy of him, then maybe I’m more than just the scum who gave up his life for a guy who never truly cared about him?

Thanks to Sylvan, I’ll get another chance, in a new world.

Sylvan settles against me with a deep sigh, and I sense his tension dissolve. He kisses my pec and rests his cheek against it. “You cannot shelter me from it all, but I appreciate it. I have never known the kind of care you have shown me. You took me to Boston at great risk to yourself, you fought your family for me, and you even stood by me when you had doubts about my identity. I want you to know you are worth everything to me. And deep down, maybe I also want others to witness my vows to the man I chose.”

I’m floored. I know every normal person would have called me crazy for claiming to be in love after the short time the two of us shared so far, but I don’t care. He thinks I’m special, he believes in me, and I want only him.

Wrapping my arms around him, I pull him up, and as he closes his legs on my hips, it’s me who listens to his heartbeat and finds peace in its rhythm. “The people who ignored you and didn’t see you for the gem you are are so fucking dumb.”

Sylvan kisses my ear. “And thanks to you, soon even they will be humbled.”

I don’t have time to answer, because a woman walks in without knocking, and I have to let Sylvan out of my grasp.

“Follow me, Your Highness,” she says with a bow. “You two are not to see each other until the ceremony.”

“What? No—” I moan, but Sylvan chuckles and strokes my hand.

“It’s a tradition that will make our union all the sweeter.”

I suppose he might be right, no matter how much I resent that. I say my goodbyes with a kiss to his lips, and my chest tightens in longing the moment he leaves my sight.

I turn back to the platter of unfamiliar fruit on the table, but when my gaze drifts to the fresco, I once more wonder… Are there vampires here?

I don’t like that nobody answered my question.