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

Chapter 25

Sylvan

I ’ve read about the magical bond entwining a shadow-wielder and their Dark Companion. In the past, I didn’t believe myself capable of forging one, and a part of me hoped the much-celebrated connection was being exaggerated. I have no more doubts. An unbreakable thread ties my soul to Hawk’s, and even when we’re apart, I sense his presence at the very center of me.

If either of us were lost, the other could find him.

If melancholy were to take hold, I could warm my heart with the glow of the love he feels for me. For he wants me the way I am, and I know I couldn’t have picked a better Companion even if Hawk’s shadow was as pale as mine.

If that one day means my downfall, then so be it.

Elves can lead long lives. An eternity, if we make that our goal, but our desires, our curiosity, or our fury are so intense they often lead us to a premature death. The old me would have called my current actions foolish, but while baring my soul to someone else is a great risk, I can’t regret it when I sense my lover’s precious heart beating for me whenever I reach out to stroke the shadow thread that now connects us.

I thought I wanted power.

But while I have it now, it seems so insignificant in the face of Hawk’s vow. His love. His devotion to me.

A part of me wishes my family were here to witness our union, but what for when we get to celebrate with strangers who have already been much kinder than my blood ever was?

All the lights are off as I await Hawk in the main room of the tavern, and I’m so nervous I’m glad I had a sip of wine when it was offered to me.

The wedding guests gathered around me take a silent breath when the door opens. My beast towers over Fenren, who urges him to lower his head so he doesn’t hit it on the doorframe. Hawk is wearing a blindfold, because I wanted to keep that bit of court tradition in the ceremony, but he would have probably struggled in the dark anyway.

It’s been less than an hour since I last saw him, and I’ve sensed his presence nearby through our shadow bond. The connection is still so fresh I can barely cope with being parted from him. It’s as if I was expected to function without my right hand, but my other half is here now, and all will be well.

My Dark Companion’s eyes are covered, but he must sense my proximity too, because his heartbeat quickens.

The elves gathered around us do their best to stay quiet, and a soft cough coming from the corner cannot spoil this moment for either of us. Fenren leads the way, but the long, confident strides my beloved takes prove how badly he wants to join me.

A breeze that must have entered through an open window carries his earthy scent toward me, and I take a lungful of it, no longer nervous or plagued by doubt. When Hawk is close enough for me to see his handsome features in the glow of the single candle I’m holding, Fenren pulls off his blindfold.

My face will be the first thing he sees, because I am his flame in the night. His protector. His guardian in the Nightmare Realm. No one needs to know it’s Hawk who lights up my sky when our eyes meet.

Hawk smiles, and so do I as our hands entwine in front of all those strangers. I regret my Companion won’t get the pomp of a court wedding, with a lush ball to celebrate our union. He is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and deserves to be presented as the jewel he is, clad in the fine moth robes customarily worn by Dark Companions during a royal wedding.

But my Hawk is no dainty moth. He’s a bull. Affectionate yet powerful, and delicate fabrics and bejeweled wings wouldn’t suit him. I don’t need him to fit the mold of the many Dark Companions who came before him when he is perfect just the way he is.

As we stand under the antler chandelier, it’s clear to me that such trivialities don’t matter. He and I have bonded for life, and nothing can come between us.

The flame balancing at the tip of my candle turns his eyes into pools of gold, adding warmth to their usual green.

“Let me lead you through the dark,” I whisper the words a royal would say to their promised during the ceremony. No one needs to know that we’ve already made our bond with the Moon as our witness. My heart is suddenly so full I have to hold back tears.

Hawk swallows, and I see the muscles of his jaw twitch as he watches me with eyes so soulful I can’t understand why I initially rejected him. Our meeting was written in the stars, and I have almost missed a connection so powerful and deep his presence takes my breath away. When Hawk blows out the candle, symbolically confirming his trust in me, I close my eyes and smell the burning wax, joyful about the many days and nights we shall have together.

Swamplights come to life all around us, and several dozen elves erupt with loud cheers while tavern servers appear with huge trays full of drinks and snacks. Our guests are more interested in free food than our happiness, but I can’t hold that against them, because all the pats Hawk is receiving make his smile grow ever wider.

I was never fond of all attention being on me, so I’m glad Hawk is such a beacon for wide-eyed elves. Most of those gathered have probably seen a human or two, since I’ve got no doubt lots of them work with Fenren, but Hawk is truly something else.

So tall he has to watch his head constantly, wide in the shoulders, and handsome, he’s like a warrior from ancient ballads. He’s the kind of man you’d imagine capable of slaying a leviathan with his bare hands, or wielding the Frostblade, which hasn’t even been picked up in centuries, let alone used.

I’m so proud to call him my Dark Companion.

“I bet you’re hungry,” I say, squeezing his hand and pulling him toward the overflowing buffet set up in the corner. It features a whole roasted Goldbeak as the centerpiece, and while I already know I won’t be eating many of the foods on offer, the sight of its crispy skin makes my mouth water. Maybe back when I still lived at the Nocturne Court, I would have seen the food here as plebeian, but after long weeks in the world of humans and eating soft bread for almost every meal, the offerings laid out in front of me are a feast for the ages. No wonder the sight of all the rolls, roasted meats, cheeses, and mushroom dishes is making Hawk’s eyes shine.

“Wow. Yes. I am extra hungry, with a side of hungry,” he says and frowns, picking up an open sand clam, dusted with salt and the bright green shassel powder. “What is that?”

I explain to him how to eat it and wonder whether I should wait for someone to serve me the meat, but as the crispy skin starts to disappear on people’s plates, I join in the uncouth ritual of ripping some off.

I’m very aware of people stealing glances at me or outright staring. I have been humbled by my experience in the human world and don’t feel as out of place in this tavern as I would have before my banishment. After all, am I not also a criminal as no doubt many of the elves here are? We might not be exactly the same, since I am no ordinary cutthroat, but I do feel a certain camaraderie with those people.

Hawk sucks the clam from its shell, and I grin when he shakes at the flavor spreading in his mouth.

“What? Not to your liking?”

“It’s so… fizzy. I never had anything quite like that,” he tells me before grabbing one of the legs of the roast bird and tearing it off.

Two musicians choose this moment to start playing in the corner, and I flinch when the whole inn shakes with the thumping of feet as the guests stomp with approval. I’m shocked to see my Hawk jump up and down to join them, but then again, this is not the palace, and actions that would have made one the laughing stock at court seem perfectly acceptable in this tavern.

Maybe I actually like not being judged for enjoying myself.

“Oh, and this tastes just like that chicken we had at the gas station!”

I bite into the crispy skin and grin at him. “It does! What was it… thyme? That’s what it’s called?”

Hawk laughs. “They used a herb from my world? How luxurious! Wait, you’ve got some grease—” he leans in and wipes my chin with his sleeve. It’s so ridiculous to be doing this in public, but I don’t even mind anymore.

I stroke Hawk’s clean-shaven cheek. “Thank you. I need to be presentable for my husband.”

Hawk stalls and leans into my touch. “You know when I find you most presentable? Naked,” he says with a grin, then drops the bone remaining in his hand into a bucket, and before I can stop him, wipes his hands on the tablecloth. My first thought is that I’ll need to teach him many things once we’re back at court, but when he grins and takes a goblet of cherin for each of us, my initial embarrassment fades. He is altering his whole life for me. It’s only fair I don’t force him into conventions he doesn’t seem to care for.

“Is it wrong of me to also await our wedding night with bated breath?” I ask since the music is so loud I doubt anyone could overhear us.

My companion is satisfied with that answer and wiggles his brows before handing me my cup and knocking his against it. “Our wedding night and every other night to come,” he says and guides me to the wall, where he can so easily entrap me with his firm body. I know the others are staring at this blatant display of desire, but I don’t care enough to push him away.

Let them see that I am an object of lust for this amazing man. That I don’t need to be taller or have wider shoulders to make him wild for me.

“I want to get drunk. And dance. And act as if all those people are my personal friends. And then I’ll take you next door. You think you’ll be able to keep your voice in?” he teases, whispering in my ear.

I drink from my cup, and I have to admit that it’s some intensely potent cherin. Then again, maybe this drink always bites the tongue and the back of the throat. I wouldn’t know, since Mother forbade me from consuming liquor due to my weak constitution. But she isn’t here, and this is my wedding. Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself? I’m back from banishment, and I have a Dark Companion whose shadow is so endless it will be spoken of in legends. I can’t even begin to imagine the things we may achieve together.

“Maybe I won’t, maybe I’ll need your hand on my mouth.” I meet his gaze with my heart beating to the rhythm of the fast melody around us. “For now, let’s make your dream come true.” I say and pull him toward the dancing crowd.

A tall elf with two long dark braids and a scar on his cheek steps in our way.

“I challenge you to arm wrestling,” he says, and I know what this is about as soon as I spot two women giggling over cups of wine.

Hawk inhales, ready to agree, but he stalls and shoots me a glance, only saying yes once I give him a shallow nod. It makes me so happy to know he considers us a team. By the time he sits at the corner table and slams the challenger’s hand down, winning the weaponless duel, I cheer louder than anyone else. He wins the next four matches, and then we end up getting our ears pierced, as local tradition dictates.

The earrings are a pair of small silver tears, which might not be suitable for a royal and his Dark Companion, but they do suit us . When Hawk lifts me up as he attempts to participate in a country dance, I don’t regret the bloodstain on my shirt, nor the throbbing in my earlobe.

The rich, sweet cherin flows in my veins, making me flush when my Companion, my husband , squeezes me tightly and twirls in the middle of the room.

I’ve never laughed this loudly, and I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or if I’m drunk on my beloved, but it doesn’t matter. He’s so happy to be dancing and eating, and drinking after the years he spent in prison that all I want to do is indulge him.

I’m not the most accomplished dancer even when I know the steps, but I laugh even though I’m making a fool of myself, because with Hawk, it’s fun to just be . We twirl, we drink more, not caring about time, because our vows have already been said.

I might have gotten carried away and explained my thinking in far too much detail to a man serving me a tart beer. I don’t remember that part very well. Only that as I was finishing my thought, Hawk arrived at my side to take the man’s hand off my forearm.

I think they argued. But I can’t be sure.

But what I do remember is that Hawk never left my side, that he told me about places in the human realm where men who desire the company of other man can dance and have fun. Apparently, during his first night in such a place, he ended up slipping on the slick floor and injured his head. I’m positive the ghost of a scar remaining from that occurrence is still visible at the side of his forehead, and I kiss its general location when he picks me up and moves us to a comfortable booth in the corner.

People come and go, eager to exchange a few words with one of the few humans they’ve ever met. Even those who visit the human realm to smuggle goods are interested in spending time with my tall, handsome spouse, but while Hawk enjoys the attention, he does nothing that might fuel the green fire of booze-infused jealousy inside me. He keeps including me in conversations, he always keeps at least one hand on my body, and whenever there’s an opportunity, he drags me back onto the dancefloor, proud and joyful that I’m the one in his arms.

When someone laughs that it would have been easier for him to dance with someone taller, Hawk takes such great offense I have to break up a fight. It does give me quite some satisfaction that I get to use Hawk’s shadow to do so. Though while I was intending to force the rude traveller back, I end up pushing a shield of shadow too hard at him, and he falls into the shadowild. I didn’t even know I had access to the shadow realm, as my own powers have always been far too flimsy to even attempt entering that space. But after the initial panic, we manage to pull him out and all is good again.

Hawk then shows off just how easy it is to dance with me by carrying me all the way through a whole song while whispering filth into my ear. Once he puts me down, I’m so overheated it’s as though I’m blushing all over my body, and I can’t even make myself protest when he sneaks his big, strong hand under my shirt, exploring the plains of my skin with snake-like swirls. I’m on the verge of letting him go farther and get the pesky garment off me, right here, in front of all those people, but Fenren announces another game, one that needs to be started by the newly married couple.

Ivy and one other girl drag me into a small room and shut the door, explaining I’ll need to recognize Hawk’s knock among many others. The catch? I’ll need to kiss the one I open the door for, whether I like it or not. As pleasant as the laziness brought upon me by cherin is, my drunken state is getting me worried, because if I lock lips with someone else, Hawk is bound to break a nose or two.

A part of me doesn’t mind, but I do not want any more blood on my clothes.

My mind is scrambled, and I’m not all that confident in my choices when I say ‘no’ to the first two people knocking. Relief fills me when the third person taps in the rhythm of a song we heard all too many times on the radio during our car trip to Boston.

I belt out the lyrics and open the door, laughing. What a stupid game. And yet I’m so happy to have won I climb Hawk and let him hold me up for a kiss. He tastes of wine and something sweet, smells like heaven, and I now wish to bed him sooner rather than later.

“I knew you’d recognize me,” he whispers, moving his lips to my ear as one of the musicians playing in the background slips, failing to hit the right note. Such things never happen with professional music masters at court, but it doesn’t matter, because the amateurs gave me more joy than any ball I’ve attended at the Nocturne Court. This one is celebrating me and my mate, and that makes it special.

I press my forehead to his and close my eyes as he carries me through the stormy waves of dancing bodies. His heartbeat pulses against my ear, his shadow is practically a part of me now. When I dip my fingers into the shadowild in the crevice between our bodies, the sense of absolute contentment it offers makes me fantasize about curating my own pocket dimension, just for me and Hawk. Anything is possible with a shadow like his.

Just as I kiss him to yet more hooting and clapping, the main door bursts open, kicked in by a heavy boot. I look over Hawk’s shoulder, dazed, only to meet the amber gaze of no one other than my damn cousin .

Prince Tristan Bloodweed. Tall, dashing, with long hair like waterfalls of red wine, and leather boots made to emphasize his muscular thighs.

Otherwise known as Thorn In My Side.

I’m too drunk to think straight, overwhelmed by the avalanche of problems I imagine this will cause. But my mind is so thoroughly soaked in cherin I struggle to come up with a plan.

My heart sinks when something glistens at me from his chest and I finally recognize the crest of the Nightcloaks—a gate wrapped in thorns. They’re the wardens of the realm and deal with the safety of its borders.

Which means he’s here for me.