Chapter 30
Nate
Ilook amazing.
My shirt is a dark silver, with rich sleeves gathered at the wrists and a square neckline so low it almost reveals my nipples. A cape of a fluffy, fur-like fiber is attached to my shoulders on either side of an ornate platinum chain featuring a crab-shaped badge.
Twin panels of fine lace lead from the collar all the way to a wide belt and the midnight blue train trailing behind it. Even the navy pants, which are the simplest element of my outfit, feature a discreet crab pattern in the same shade as the base fabric, creating an interesting texture.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing in the mirror. I’m like a fairytale winter prince. If this isn’t my Cinderella moment, I don’t know what would be. Tristan even got me a new pair of glasses for the occasion, with a filigree snowflake pattern on the temple arms and a bejeweled chain attached to them.
“And you… picked this for me?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat as I touch the crab pendant, because it reads as a sign of affection. Tristan cares for me and therefore wants to mark me with his heraldry.
“Yes. With the help of a tailor, of course. His name is Remi, and he was delighted to design this for you.”
I can hear the music already, but we’re still indoors, still out of sight, and I squeeze Tristan’s hand to boost my courage. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to wear anything this fine. This is real haute couture!”
“I’m not sure what that is, but I’m happy you like it. You deserve the best.” He says and lifts my hand to his face for a kiss. Be still my heart. Now that I broke the barrier between us, Tristan’s been insatiable with his touch.
He’s incredible.
Romantic, thoughtful, chivalrous, and as I get to my toes to embrace him, the slight burn in my ass only reminds me that sex with him is amazing too.
I’m not proud of how briefly I managed to keep our relationship platonic, but there’s such a strong gravity pull between us that I now feel it’s been inevitable from the start.
Tristan is the man I’ve dreamed about since that time I read my first romantic book and reimagined it with myself instead of the princess. The prince fought a dragon for me, and then we had our happily ever after in a world where no one felt gay relationships were odd.
I could live this dream in the Nightmare Realm.
I could have my prince in Tristan.
I could live forever in a reality where it’s socially acceptable for me to wear outfits as amazing as the one I’m currently wearing.
“And you deserve me.”
“Because I also deserve the best?” Tristan grins and wraps his arms around my waist.
We’ll never get to the ball at this pace, but it’s hard to push him away when I know that we will need to act appropriately when we get to the music, and buffet, and so, so many elves he will introduce me to.
I chuckle, my lips pressing to his in a chaste kiss.
And then I pull away, watching him from up close while our breaths mingle between us.
This feels good. Is it such a crime that I still want him?
I know there’s plenty of people in this realm who get married to other elves, and I don’t need to be Tristan’s Dark Companion for us to share our life.
The budding relationship feels like a gamble, but… the worst has already happened, so what am I risking, really?
A lifetime in his dungeon, tortured, in a world where you will never die of old age, my anxiety-ridden mind suggests, but I dismiss it. I can’t live like this. I can’t expect every shadow-wielding elf to be a murderous psychopath.
“Let’s go before Sabine sends a search party after you.”
Tristan grabs my hand and we walk down the corridor leading out to the garden. “You just want to try the food. Sadly, a lot of it isn’t vegan, but I’ve made sure at least some of the dishes are, and I know which ones.”
He is adorable, charming, and the fact that he can also be a bit silly at times only puts me more at ease.
Tristan isn’t an evil mastermind scheming to entrap me.
He would have had to be an insanely talented actor to keep that up, and for what?
My puny shadow? He wouldn’t have fought tooth and nail for a shadow like mine.
So I’m left to believe that he just actually likes me so much.
“I like how you now remember the right word,” I chuckle, and while my body stiffens when the door opens into the gardens, I ignore the first wave of anxiety by keeping my gaze focused on his handsome face.
But then people whisper, and I squeeze Tristan as he leads me down the steps, and then past the group of elven ladies who’ve gathered outside of the bubble tents for a private conversation.
Each of them looks like a million dol—nah, not dollars.
They look like chestfuls of golden ducats in outfits of fine silks, jacquard, and velvet.
Their style is both winter-themed, and on the gothic side.
One has a coat with a fur hood, which is covered in tiny diamond spiders to go with her white tarantula-looking headdress.
And still, the clothing Tristan had prepared for me ‘just in case’ appears even more refined, even more expensive, as if he wanted to inform everyone there’s nothing and no one he values more than me.
We’re instantly followed by many gazes, and I have to squeeze Tristan’s hand harder.
I don’t think I realized how sheltered I’ve been in the past months.
I’ve not been in a crowd since pretty much last Halloween.
My heart is behaving as if I’m surrounded by threats, and only Tristan’s presence is stopping me from suffering a panic attack.
When a servant with a silver tray offers me a glass of cherin, I can’t say no. I need the liquid courage to survive this day.
And yet, I want to be here. I want to experience this grand, love-themed winter ball in the gardens of a magnificent castle, all at the side of a prince who proudly calls me his—
“Is that your promised, Tristan?” a woman in what I’d call a man’s outfit asks as she approaches. Her lips are painted black, and her hair is almost as white as the snow on the bushes.
“He is indeed,” Tristan says with a proud smile. “Nate, this is Magister Galenne. She’s a shadow wielder who came all the way from Espare to study at the Nocturne Court.”
The floor under my feet suddenly feels cold and slippery as ice. My gaze darts to Tristan’s face as I fight off the panic buzzing inside my chest.
She bows her head. “I thought I noticed the thread. You must be excited for the upcoming full moon,” she says joyfully, and I swallow, trying to calm down.
That is fair. We might be planning to sever the connection, but the thread still binds our shadows, and it be strange to deny it when so many people around us can see it as clearly as I see the glass in my hand.
The conversation continues for another few minutes, and I’m starting to feel cold when Tristan finally cuts it off and puts his arm over my shoulders. “My apologies, but we need to greet the Lord and his Dark Companion.”
Making our way there is filled with constant greetings to Tristan, questions about me, about dancing, about our future, and my mind spins.
Tristan grabs three different tiny snacks for me, and at least we’re in the warmed tents now.
From up close, the fabric they’re made of reminds me of transparent latex, but in the context of this ball, it’s like a sheet of ice allowing us a glorious view of the cloudless sky.
I can already see the Lord from afar, as he’s tall, and surrounded by elves vying for his attention. While the designer of clothes made for me and Tristan incorporated the gothic aesthetic subtly, Lord Kyran is a true prince of darkness.
His cloak drags behind him, trimmed with bundles of crocheted yarn resembling sea foam.
His collar is stiff and rises above his shoulders like jagged rocks piercing the ocean water.
Even his eyes play the part, gray like the eye of a storm.
And when he touches his Dark Companion’s back, he’s like the god of the seven seas extending protection over his favorite.
And the human whose name I know is Luke is beaming with joy despite his dark ensemble.
A short blue jacket with pauldron spikes makes his shoulders look wider, but he’s no bigger than me.
I even spot two-inch heels on his tall leather boots.
His brown hair becomes green halfway down and falls elegantly on his shoulders.
To mark his position at court, he wears a bejeweled crown, which is such a stark contrast to his septum piercing.
He has his arm around the Lord’s and doesn’t appear to be held captive in this castle. He looks… happy, and the flush on his cheeks deepens when Lord Kyran whispers something into his ear.
Envy twists inside me almost immediately, and I weave my arm around Tristan’s as he leads the way across the tent decorated so beautifully I can’t believe we’re outdoors.
A string quartet provides the musical backdrop to the conversation and merriment, and I catch myself following their tempo with each step.
Could I really live this fairytale dream, just like Luke does?
I’ve always been a bit of a wallflower, so how would I fare as a prince’s… what? Consort? Husband? Tristan did propose, but does he still want us to marry, even once we sever our shadow bond?
All eyes are on us as we approach the Lord, but I’m instantly distracted when I see Luke twist his hand in the air, causing a dark shadow tentacle to emerge from his palm.
He turns toward a servant passing with a tray, and the tentacle extends to grab a glass.
He then brings it back under the Lord’s watchful eye and passes it to him with a smile.
I’m stunned and grab Tristan, making him stop in his tracks. “Did you see? How can he do that? He’s human. Or is that—” I sense pins and needles at the pit of my stomach. “Something Dark Companions can do? You didn’t mention they have magic!”