Tower of Shadows (Once Upon A Wicked Villain #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

HAVEN

Without traveling through the caverns, the journey home would be faster. Haven flew across the dismal court for two days straight, only taking a few hours rest to keep up his strength. Even when a storm rained down its fury, he continued. Fuck the rain .

It wouldn’t be much longer before he reached his destination. His muscles were on fire and his wings on the brink of collapse. But he couldn’t stop now, not when he was so close. Two days were short compared to a lifetime, but two days alone with Nightshade might be enough for Haven to lose Rozlyn forever.

The bastard’s manor finally slipped into view, complete with new additions—bars on the fucking windows and door. While remaining in the air, he reached out with his shadows, testing them. They were made with a spell using Nightshade’s immortal blood. Haven was powerful, more so with Vivienne’s ring, but even his shadows couldn’t do anything without a concoction he had inside his tower. If that prick had touched Rozlyn in any way, Haven would break him apart, piece by piece. It might not kill the immortal, but it would hurt like a fucker. Haven fought the urge to soar to the manor now, to tell Rozlyn he would come back for her, but he didn’t want to alert Nightshade. Of course, there was a chance that the ferryman might’ve already taken Rozlyn to another court since he was now free, but something about the bars told him otherwise.

Haven ignored the remainder of his surroundings, his gaze trained in the direction of his home. He cracked his wings harder, and his strength waned as hunger returned. Almost there .

The marquis’ obsidian tower pulled at him like a dark beacon, and he made his descent to the entrance door. A few spirits hovered nearby in the rolling mist, but none dared to approach him. Without stopping to catch his breath, he released a shadow to unlock the door.

“Iseult!” he roared as he stormed down the cellar steps toward the spell room.

As Haven hit the last step, Iseult rushed out into the hallway toward him, a ladle in his skeletal grasp. “What’s wrong, Marquis?” he asked, the shadows swirling in his sockets with worry.

“I need your help,” Haven demanded, his chest heaving.

“Anything,” Iseult said, bowing his head.

“Rozlyn is with Nightshade,” Haven ground out as he bounded into the spell room with his assistant close on his heels. He grabbed another vial of the spells to ward off hunger and thirst. There wasn’t time for him to sit down and fucking eat right now—he could feast later when Rozlyn was with him again. Then he fumbled over rows of ingredients, plucking up what he needed.

Haven snapped his fingers at Iseult. “An empty vial, quickly.”

One appeared in his hand almost instantly. He shoved books out of the way and began pouring the different liquids into the empty glass while chanting an incantation. A few moments later, he corked the new spell that would counteract the bars on Nightshade’s home and shoved it into his pocket.

“I was a bastard and a fool,” Haven told his assistant. “I bargained Rozlyn so I could gain a court I never wanted. For a woman who I never truly loved and who never loved me. My match was right in front of me, in this very tower, bound to me for these past few weeks. There’s only one thing that Nightshade won’t refuse in exchange for freeing Rozlyn. You’ll have to agree to it.” This was the deepest Haven had ever gotten when conversing with Iseult, and even though his assistant would agree to any request, he wanted him to understand.

“Of course I will, Marquis.”

If Nightshade didn’t agree, Haven would spend a lifetime searching for a way to rip his immortality away. Only then could he murder the ferryman so the mark he left on Rozlyn’s wrist would vanish.

Iseult followed Haven out into the mist, the air sticky. He grasped his assistant under the arms and lifted him into the air with one crack of his wings. Iseult’s bones weighed practically nothing as he carried him over the gloomy landscape. Even in flight, his assistant kept his spine straight, and with Haven by his side, Iseult’s bones wouldn’t break apart as they would’ve if he were wandering the court alone.

Nightshade’s manor would be approaching soon, but time seemed to drag before Haven finally touched down in front of the manor. Tucking his gargoyle away, he released Iseult, and his temper flared at the cage Nightshade had created for Rozlyn. Haven had done the same to her with his shadows, but he vowed to himself that she would never be caged again. Blood boiled in Haven’s veins—he would start by ripping off Nightshade’s eyelids and work his way down.

Haven’s shadows shook in rage as they flew from him and gripped the bars even though it would do no good. He retrieved the vial from his pocket and poured it along the ground while chanting an incantation. The words were old, passed down from the gods themselves to one of the first sorcerers. It had stayed within Haven’s family throughout the centuries. Once the final word left his mouth, his shadows pulled the iron again, and this time, they pried apart.

“Wait here,” Haven told Iseult, then he hurled the door open and barged into the manor. He didn’t have to venture far to find Nightshade’s fingers on Rozlyn’s chin, his body too close to hers.

“Release my wife ,” Haven growled, his shadows crackling like thunder around him.

“Ah, the Marquis of Shadows has arrived.” Nightshade smirked, his hand falling from Rozlyn’s chin. “Your marriage bond no longer exists. You gave her to me.”

“You came,” Rozlyn murmured, tears filling her eyes.

Haven swallowed deeply, his anger cooling as he studied her. “I should never have bargained you. It was before I—”

“Before you came to your own senses?” Nightshade interrupted and grabbed his wine glass from the table. “Regrets happen. Apologies, but there’s nothing I can do about that.” One of Haven’s shadows shot forward and knocked the glass away from Nightshade before he could bring the wine to his lips. “What a waste.” He tsked.

Haven’s eyes pierced into Nightshade like icy daggers. “As lord of this court, you will obey me,” he seethed.

“If only a lord’s demands were worth more than a bargain.” His smirk returned and he leaned against the wall with his arms folded.

“He offered me a way home,” Rozlyn whispered. “And—”

“No.” Haven shook his head. “Whatever he offered to you, the answer is fucking no .” He stormed toward Nightshade, his fists shaking while holding back his shadows. “I have another bargain to offer. One that would be more useful to you.”

Nightshade arched a brow. “Go on.” The immortal was always willing to listen to a proposition.

“As you know, Souldark belongs to me now. I’ll give the court to you. You can have it all.” It would be no loss to Haven—it was never what he truly wanted. He simply wanted Adham gone and Vivienne back. But losing Rozlyn would be like cutting out his own shadows.

“Hmm, that’s an enticing offer.” Nightshade trailed a finger across his lower lip, and Haven was one breath away from having his shadow tear his entire hand off. “Though I could have Dawnbreak eventually…” His bemused gaze drifted to Rozlyn. “If I chose Souldark, it would be mine right away, but I would need a ferryman. The line has been getting rather long without me assisting the spirits across the lake. Before you offer, the gondola won’t accept anyone alive unless they carry the blood of gods.”

Haven knew this already, and he’d come prepared. “One moment.” He summoned Iseult from outside the manor, where his assistant obediently stood waiting. After Iseult stepped into the manor, he came up to Haven’s side. Rozlyn studied them both with wide eyes as Haven said, “My assistant will be the ferryman for Fairward Lake. He’s both alive and dead, an immortal in his own right. I’ve come up with a permanent way to keep his bones from breaking apart without me there or him inside my tower. He’ll need a single drop of immortal blood.”

“That’s up to Iseult to decide,” Rozlyn interrupted. “No one else.”

“And me,” Nightshade added. “But do go on, Iseult. What’s your decision?”

Haven’s nostrils flared—this was his assistant. He’d created him! But he remained silent.

Rozlyn pressed her hand to Iseult’s shoulder. “Before you answer, think for yourself. Not the marquis. Not me. Not Nightshade. No one but Iseult.”

Iseult nodded and turned to face Haven. “Marquis?”

“It’s up to you,” Haven said, resting his palm on his assistant’s other shoulder. “You’ve been a good and faithful servant. Now you have the chance to be the ferryman and help souls cross over to the gods. You’ll have your own manor.”

The shadows in Iseult’s eyes swirled, his jaw parting into a smile as he said, “This is an honor. I will do my best to serve you and this court.”

“You’d be serving me, since it would be my court if I were to accept,” Nightshade added and his eyes grew hooded. “I need something more.”

Of course the bastard fucking did. “What?” Haven said between gritted teeth.

With a wide grin, he shrugged. “Oh, just a vial of poison made with nightshade.”

That seemed egotistical and simple, too simple, but Haven wouldn’t question it if that was all it took to get Rozlyn back. He didn’t care who Nightshade used it on. “Fine.”

“The Lord of Death has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Nightshade chuckled.

Haven rolled his eyes before focusing on Rozlyn. “Can you get us a needle from your things?”

She nodded and dug through her satchel on the table until she fished out a shiny silver needle. Haven took it from her and faced the ferryman.

Nightshade fluttered his fingers in front of Haven’s face. “Take your pick.” Haven ignored him and pierced his forefinger, driving the needle in farther than necessary. Nightshade didn’t so much as flinch.

Iseult stepped toward them and opened his mouth. Nightshade promptly squeezed a drop of blood inside. Haven chanted the same spell he’d spoken when he’d brought Iseult to life, only this time he added a few extra lines to the incantation, his and Vivienne’s rings both burning bright red. When they faded back to black, the spell was complete.

Nightshade held up his wrist where a new symbol of a bone crown replaced the crescent moon, sealing their bargain.

Rozlyn glanced at her own wrist, free of any tattoos or cuffs. “I’m still here.” She blinked.

“Until I take you home. You won’t be able to cross into Souldark after that.” Haven shrugged.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure as always, Haven,” Nightshade purred. “I’ll need the poison within the next seven days delivered to my castle.” Then he turned to Iseult. “Come with me. I’ll take you to the gondola and show you the ropes.”

Rozlyn rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Iseult. “I’m going to miss you.”

He stroked his skeletal hand over Rozlyn’s golden hair. “Take care of Marquis.”

Nightshade guided Iseult toward the door. “I believe the first spirits you have the honor of ferrying across Fairward are Vivienne and Adham.”