Chapter 10 #2
I scramble to follow. I know I should stay away, just let things lie, but guilt and frustration surge through my veins.
What if Amriel hurts his twin? What if he kills him?
The Shadow who’s about to show up here is not the same Shadow who attacked me in the labyrinth, and he shouldn’t suffer for the sake of his cursed alter ego.
No, nighttime Shadow saved my life. He carried me while I slept, tried to warn me away from the Wildwood.
I can’t just let his brother hurt him.
By the time I make it to the hallway, Amriel has already turned a corner. I hurry to follow, my skin so tight it feels like I might burst. “Wait!” I shout.
“What?” Amriel calls, not slowing, not even turning his head.
“Just stop. Leave the Shadow alone. Why’re you even bothering? I thought you didn’t care.”
His laugh is acidic. “I don’t. Not about you. But I do care that my Shadow almost made our curse permanent. If he’d killed you, then I would’ve had to live the rest of my life like this.”
My stride fumbles. It’s the first time I’ve heard him refer to the curse that way—not as his, but as a punishment shared with his brother.
Briefly, I wonder why Alanna would’ve woven her spell to include them both, but the thought vanishes as quickly as it forms. Amriel stomps away, the threat of violence written across every line of his body.
I limp after him as quickly as my injured leg will allow. Fresh wetness trickles toward my ankle, but I pay it no mind.
“Stop!” I shout.
He ignores me.
I hobble faster, not knowing why I care. I shouldn’t. I don’t—neither of us does—yet harsh emotions crackle in the corridor, an invisible storm brewing in the span between us.
Amriel soon outpaces me. He vanishes down a stairwell, his angry strides leaving indents in the moss.
I catch up a few minutes later, stopping atop a broad staircase that descends to the cavernous great hall. Overhead, the leafy ceiling shivers in the evening breeze. A cloud of teal fireflies wheels past, but even the hall’s grandiosity can’t temper the tension sizzling in the air.
Amriel has already made it halfway down the stairs. He aims for the Shadow, who stands at the bottom. Various fae linger around the hall’s perimeter, murmuring to each other, their features catching the pink glow from the walls.
The Shadow’s head snaps up as he catches my scent, his nostrils flaring. Horror and relief war for control of his expression.
“Princess.” He starts up the stairs. “Shadows below, are you all right?”
I gather a breath to respond, but Amriel beats me to it.
“No. She isn’t.” He arrows toward his twin, pink and green light reflecting from his hair. “You almost killed her.”
The Shadow’s attention drops, his lips parting to reveal his teeth. “I almost killed her? You’re the one who sent her into the Wildwood. With no preparation, no weapon, no—”
I never hear the rest. Amriel launches himself, his fist crashing into the Shadow’s face as they go tumbling down the stairs.
A shriek jets from my throat. I hurry downward, slipping and sliding, not knowing how I intend to help. By the time I reach the bottom, the fight has escalated to a full-blown brawl. Fists fly, fangs snap.
Amriel pins the Shadow beneath him, his shoulders flexing as he rains blow after blow against his brother’s face.
“Stop!” I scream, but it’s no use. They can’t hear me, and I don’t dare venture any closer, lest I catch a stray claw. I can only watch their descent into mindless violence, my heart curling into a ball.
The Shadow bucks Amriel off, then does some kind of backflip maneuver that ends with them circling each other, locked in a deadly orbit. Blood leaks from the Shadow’s cheek, but the liquid seeping from his split skin isn’t red. It’s blue, studded with silver sparkles. And it glows.
I stem a breath. Goddess, no wonder he shines in every room. That light is inside him, running through his veins. And it’s beautiful. Strangely, hypnotically so.
Amriel moves in, breaking my focus. In a flash, they’re at each other’s throats again, fists grappling as they trade barbed accusations.
“You let her fall down the refuse tunnel.” The Shadow spins, jabbing an elbow into Amriel’s nose. “She almost died before she even left the castle.”
Amriel stumbles, but quickly recovers, sinking a fist into the Shadow’s side. “You almost took her leg off. You scarred her.”
The Shadow roars, then counters with a blow so vicious, so reckless, that my ears ring when it connects. Amriel’s head snaps back as he goes reeling.
When he gets his feet beneath him again, he spits a gob of red. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“Not even close,” the Shadow bellows. “You sent her into the Wildwood with nothing to defend herself. What kind of mate does that? Are you trying to get her killed?”
They crash together again. Amriel feints and parries, his blows calculated. Meanwhile, the Shadow surrenders to instinct. To unbridled rage.
I fight the urge to shield my ears against the crack of flesh on flesh.
I want to scream. Bash their stupid male heads together until they realize they have only themselves to blame.
Because I just wanted to stay home. I never wanted to come to Velindra, or fall down a garbage chute, or make my way through any eldritch forests.
If these two idiots had just steered clear, I’d be at home right now, happy and safe in my bed.
Claws slash across a bared forearm. “You’re the one who Claimed her,” the Shadow snarls.
A fist crunches against bone, drawing a pained grunt. “You’re the one who mauled her, you beast.”
Red and blue puddles slick the floor. A hot splatter lands across my cheek. When I wipe at it, my fingers come away stained with bluish sparkles.
Goddess, they’re going to kill each other.
I have to intervene—or try. But the moment I edge near, a hand closes around my elbow.
I turn to find Calen beside me, decked out in velvets and silks, the fae woman from last night’s dinner clinging to his arm.
She smiles, the curve of her mouth relaxed, as if we aren’t standing in a forested hall watching two immortals try to murder one another.
“Just let it play out,” Calen says. “It’s better for them to get it out of their systems.”
I hesitate, but…what am I going to do, besides put myself in even more danger? “Aren’t you worried they’re going to kill each other?”
Calen chuffs a soft laugh. “No. I’m sure they want to, but…no.”
He packs the words with so much certainty that I sink back again.
The Shadow kicks out, his boot connecting with Amriel’s leg, the crunch sickening.
The fae king crashes to the floor, but doesn’t stay there for long.
He leaps up, his eyes blazing, as if this violence excites him.
As if he’s venting some bottled-up stockpile of emotion.
The Shadow roars in his face. Amriel responds by ramming a shoulder into the Shadow’s abdomen, hard enough to lift his feet from the floor.
I wince. “Do they do this a lot?”
Calen’s eyes track back and forth as the men go tumbling and snarling across the hall. “No, but it isn’t the first time. And considering they have a mate now, it probably won’t be the last.”
“Oh, but… No. This isn’t…” I shake my head, groping for words. “They’re not fighting over me. At least, Amriel isn’t.”
Calen’s head swivels, his pink eyes alight with amusement. “No?”
“No. He’s just mad about the curse. About the Shadow almost making it permanent.”
Calen’s mouth does something odd, as if he’s fighting to keep it under control. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
“Mmm. Right.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Clearly, he doesn’t believe me, but who cares what he thinks? He’s fae, so the concept of mates makes sense to him. He has no idea that Amriel and I naturally hate each other, mate bond or no.
The fight reaches a crescendo. Amriel lands a particularly nasty uppercut, sending his opponent staggering backward. The Shadow crashes to his knees, his breathing turbulent, one palm braced against the floor for support. Glowing blue blood leaks from a dozen different places.
Amriel snarls in victory. But he looks equally as brutalized, and the way he swipes a hand across his split bottom lip makes me think he doesn’t have any more fight left in him than his twin does.
“See?” Calen murmurs. “That should be it. For tonight.”
A corner of my heart unclenches. My fingers relax at my sides, though I have no memory of tightening them.
Amriel spits at the Shadow, his whole frame tensing with the effort. A strand of blood-stained hair sticks to his cheek as he glares down. “Just stay away from her.”
The Shadow kneels there, his head bowed, his laughter soft and despairing. “I won’t, though. Not out there. If you want her safe, then keep her out of the Wildwood.”
“I can’t,” Amriel snarls. “I won’t.”
The Shadow lifts his head, his fangs gleaming as brightly as the accusation in his eyes. “Then when I hurt her again, you’ll have only yourself to blame.”
Amriel steps back. Silence rings in the hall, and when I glance around, half the crowd watches their king, their expressions unreadable. The other half watches the Shadow, varying degrees of understanding painted across their faces.
Not a single fae here looks surprised.
“I have no choice,” Amriel says finally. “You know that.”
“You do, though,” the Shadow hisses. “More of a choice than I do.”
Amriel laughs once—cold, abrupt, unfeeling. “I don’t.”
Without another word, he turns and strides from the hall. He doesn’t glance back. He just disappears through a vine-choked opening, probably aiming for the nearest wine bottle.
I stare after him for far too long, the mate bond reaching for him with hungry fingers. I reel the feeling in. Strangle it into nonexistence. When I turn back, the Shadow watches me, exhaustion and regret simmering in the air between us.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” he says. “Forgive me. Please.”