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

Chapter 40

Sylvan

I ’ve never shared my sibling’s love for the kelpies, but being back in the saddle, mounting the tall, powerful creature with seaweed in its mane makes me feel a bit more like my old self. I even got to change out of the rags I was wearing and into a fresh riding outfit that includes sleek gloves made of octopus leather, which will keep me from sticking to the beast if I accidentally touch it. In defiance of my mother, I opted for a fully black set, without the customary blue of the Goldweeds. My victory or defeat will not be in my family colors nor crest. My blood has forsaken me, and the only loyalty I owe is to my Companion. My Love. My Hawk.

The guards follow my every move, as if they expect me to take off at any moment, but I came here of my own free will and shall be the picture of dignity. Though my dealings with Lepearl and her crew of rowdy kelpies make the fact that I’m sitting on one’s back slightly awkward. How sentient is the creature under me exactly, if it’s been reared on land? I prefer to leave that unanswered. All that matters is that Octo might be my one ally if the situation calls for a swift retreat with Hawk at the front of my saddle, so I made sure to feed him more sugar early that morning.

We left the castle at moonrise, bathed in the glow of green torches, and the journey has already taken over three hours. Nothing in comparison to what it would have been on foot, especially that we’re now traveling through the royal forest, taking main roads without fear, but I still feel disempowered by the length of our journey. We’ve left behind the River of Souls, but the faint echo of the wailing wretches is still carried by the breeze. It reminds me of the misery my life has been before I met Hawk.

Each moment away from him feels like hours, and I attempt to focus on the bond connecting us, just so I can feel that bit closer to him already. It’s faint, but I sense his heartbeat on my breastbone, as if we were resting chest to chest. It pains me to imagine him alone in the dark, limbs twitching as he fights the new nature invading his mind.

I can only hope we reach him before the change is irreversible.

Lord Kyran rides nearby, his expression pensive, and he’s lost in thoughts so I dare not speak to him without reason. As long as the Umlaris Band remains attached to his saddle, I won’t do anything that could make him change his mind about helping Hawk.

Resentment toward the Nightweeds has been instilled in me since the cradle. As the ruling family, they have access to a level of privilege my own blood does not, and for years I have accepted the lie that the Goldweeds deserved a chance to sit on the Nocturne Throne too. But as I sneak glances at Lord Kyran, taking in the smoky hair cascading down his back like a cape, the breastplate bearing the Nightweed crest, and his regal profile, I have to admit he is the right person to wear the crown. Even the fact that he gave me a chance to plead my case instead of striking me down the moment he saw me in his bedroom speaks a lot of his character. My brother wouldn’t have shown such mercy.

Flanking me from the other side is Prince Tristan Bloodweed. His long red hair is braided for battle, and his black armor with red accents—polished to perfection. Today, he’s not here as a member of the Nightcloaks, but the Lord’s entourage, as is custom whenever he is back at court. He hasn’t yet acknowledged the way I attacked him at the tavern, so I worry he might try and stand between me and Hawk when the time comes. For now, he jokes around as if he isn’t at all bothered by the callous way I butchered his wings, yet I have seen my share of betrayal growing up at the Nocturne Court and refuse to put my trust in words. I did wipe the floor with him at the Burning Corpse for all to see, so he might take his revenge if a chance for it presents itself. And if not, hopefully he can take joy in the fact that with Hawk’s shadow gone, I will never be able to best him again.

Dozens of guards and hunters surround us from all sides. They are like black wolves with their dark garments accented by glints of silver. These men and women are armed with several weapons each. Some are tall and in heavy armor, others only a little bigger than me and dressed in leather from head to toe. A medic travels in a small carriage at the very back, with their own escort.

In my mind, none of this is necessary. Once we arrive at the ruined castle, I will go to the dungeon, where I left Hawk. He will be still conscious thanks to the pool of cool water staving off the heat, and I will lock the Umlaris Band around his neck, making him go back to normal. I don’t love that doing so will tie us to the Nocturne Court permanently, but it’s not a magical bond, only a promise, and, as we have already established, my sense of honor has one allegiance—Hawk. If necessary, I’ll use the collar and attempt an escape.

“What I’m wondering,” Tristan starts what is surely another one of his quips, “is how you got a man with a shadow like that to bond with you in the first place?”

Here we go.

Kyran doesn’t add to the question, but he glances our way, eager for gossip as any other man.

“You might be shocked to find out that not all men crave your muscles,” I say in a level tone, to not show how much the question really bothers me. I’ve made enough of a spectacle of myself on Kyran’s bedroom floor.

Tristan whistles. “Look at you trading like a—”

“That’s enough,” Kyran cuts into what was surely another insult coming my way.

Tristan rolls his eyes but doesn’t shut up despite dropping the earlier topic. “Did you bed him in his Sunwolf form? Would that even be considered ‘bedding’? I hear the Sunwolf is as big as a house and therefore wouldn’t fit in a bed.”

My cheeks go up in flames at the idea that my cousin is imagining my Companion mounting me like I’m a bitch in heat, and I can’t hide my shock. “How dare you! What kind of question is that?”

Tristan shrugs. “What? I’ve heard of elves seeking all sorts of pleasures.”

Kyran growls. “Tristan, do not bring up the kelpie incident. It does not matter that they’re sentient. That man is long gone from court.”

As they bicker, with Tristan pulling Kyran’s leg and the Lord remaining dead serious, my thoughts return to my lover, on his own in a tomb of cold stone.

It is when I spot the faintest hint of the spire at the top of the tallest tower of the werewolf castle that the steady rhythm I’ve been sensing from afar quickens so rapidly, my own heart skips a beat to match it.

“What is it?” Kyran asks.

“The castle. We’re almost there,” I point out the ruined building. “But his heartbeat has sped up. Could it be due to my proximity?”

While usually I would keep all secrets to myself to hold more cards, I need to share everything for Hawk’s sake. If there is anything Kyran knows about the bond that I don’t, he might use that information for all our benefit.

Tristan chuckles. “Prince Sylvan Goldweed, makes men’s hearts race even from afar.”

I want to respond with a biting retort, but when the echo of my husband’s heartbeat makes my chest ache and my head spin, I press on my breastplate, fighting for air. Petty rivalries don’t matter in the face of my husband’s suffering. I flinch when Kyran gets close enough to touch my back.

“Sylvan?” he asks, brows knotting above his regal nose. Ah, how I hate that he really is the right man for the job.

“May we add haste?” I ask, and Kyran gestures at the guards without a word.

The kelpies are taller than regular horses, but I still need to stand in the saddle to see the ruins better as we stampede down the track.

“I haven’t been here in ages,” Tristan says as we emerge from the forest and approach the crooked gate. Despite his carefree attitude, he makes sure his sword is ready. I shoot him a sharp glance as the soldiers spread out in a fan-like pattern in front of the steps leading inside the building. We dismount, and the moment my feet hit the ground, the unrest in my heart becomes yet more urgent. I cannot sense Hawk’s closeness despite being right by the castle. Can it be that the thick walls are somehow muting our connection?

“We will not fight him!”

“That depends on you though, doesn’t it?” Kyran asks and unpins the Umlaris Band from his saddle before tossing it to me. “Put it on him. We shall wait.”

I try to catch it, but I’m not the most agile of elves, and in a moment that will haunt me for the rest of my life, the collar slips from my grasp. Someone sniggers, and then, just as the Umlaris Band is about to drop into the mud, Tristan catches it with a long vine of his shadow. He lifts it and dangles it in front of me until I grab it in frustration.

He raises his brows. “Maybe don’t drop the priceless ancient artifact?”

“Maybe it shouldn’t have been thrown,” I grumble.

“ Maybe you two can stop bickering,” Kyran adds, imposing in his spiked pauldrons as he looks around, tense despite the veneer of calm he’s trying to project.

Tristan smirks and extends his hand to me. “I can go collar him if you’re worried about dropping it again.”

Kyran’s gaze zeroes in on the hulking Bloodweed menace. “You’re not going anywhere. The Sunwolf is a deadly threat to any shadow-wielder. We’re not risking your darkness.”

His words stab me so deeply I can feel them bleeding my heart. Of course, my shadow doesn’t matter. Measly as it is, from the perspective of a powerful user of shadowcraft, my power might as well not exist at all. Humiliation is like a rope around my neck.

“You’re risking his. You think I’m less brave than Sylvan fucking Goldweed?” Tristan growls, visibly offended, even though Lord Kyran is just looking out for him.

“Your wings are still regrowing. And it’s not your mate who is afflicted.”

Tristan shakes his head. “What’s it matter? If the Sunwolf is feral, he needs to be put down, and he will not do that.” He points to me, and this is the one comment I can’t let go.

I may not even reach his shoulder, but I will stand my ground for Hawk either way. I approach and shove his chest, putting my whole shadow into the push. It might not be much, but Tristan wasn’t expecting the attack and is forced to take a step back.

“You will not touch a hair on his body! The only way you’re getting to him is through me.”

Tristan sighs theatrically, and before I can stop him, pats my cheek with his massive hand. “Go on, cousin. Get your man.”

Blood boils in my veins and only Kyran’s level stare stops me from unleashing my claws on Tristan’s mocking smile. It doesn’t matter.

As the guards part to make room for me to reach the stairs, Kyran speaks.

“Remember that you shouldn’t even be back in the Nightmare Realm. Officially, you are a fugitive with a price on your head. But collar him or kill him to get me the Sunwolf Crown, and you will have a place at my court.”

I don’t acknowledge his words, but they ring in my head like I’m inside a giant bell. I don’t want a position at the Nocturne Court if it comes at Hawk’s expense.

What matters is that I came to these ruins for Hawk and now that I’m here, nothing can stop our reunion. I sense many eyes on me as I walk up the moss-covered steps, but I hold my head high, because I shall come back out holding my Companion’s hand. The future remains murky, subject to Lord Kyran’s whims, but nothing will be impossible once I’m reunited with my love.

I’m worried about slipping and embarrassing myself in front of all the soldiers, but the burden inside doesn’t ease once I’m out of their sight, because Hawk still feels distant, even though his heartbeat has slowed to a more manageable pace.

Bats fly above my head in erratic patterns, but I pay them no mind and descend the stairs with a swamplight torch in one hand and the collar in the other. The Umlaris Band is known for its beauty, but while I sense the engravings on its surface with my fingertips, I only care about what it can do for my Companion. My mouth dries when I approach the circular door on the lowest level of the castle, because this is my final trial. I can put the collar on Hawk and preserve his sanity, or die, ripped to shreds by sharp teeth, my shadow devoured like a juicy delicacy.

There is no other path.

The lightheadedness I was feeling since my foot stepped inside this cold, drafty building makes my vision blur, so when I face the entrance to the dungeon, I initially don’t want to believe what I’m seeing, but dread coils inside me as the swamplight reveals the machinery I used to lock my love inside.

It is now painfully clear why I could not feel him in close proximity.

The thick vault door has been ripped off its hinges and hangs half-open.

I know what it means, but I deny it and step inside, hugging the collar to my chest.

“Hawk?” I call out into the empty dungeon, but I’m answered only by the echo of my own voice and the sound of dripping water.

Hope is still a bright presence in my heart when I approach the pool at the very back, but it dims, the closer I get.

Empty.

Hawk’s gone, and the long grooves on the door tell me he didn’t leave this place a human.