Chapter 29 Shade
Shade
The days passed like years, or maybe eons. Time passing was an indescribable agony.
Physically, I felt fine. More or less. I would have preferred a more comfortable bed than the slab of quilts on the stone floor, but I didn’t sleep, anyway. The pallet was merely a place to settle.
It was my mind that was in pain. I thought of Ginger constantly in an attempt to soothe the ache. Ginger happy, dancing, alive.
Food came in regular increments, and water was constantly available.
Really, these folk were rather pathetic. For a dungeon, this place was as frilly as they came.
Not that I was complaining—the passing time was painful enough.
I ached for a cool breeze, a stroll through the woods, a change of scenery. My scrambled mind begged for more stimulation.
Memories returned to me increasingly—almost like dreams, though I had never truly experienced one of those.
I remembered a cave. A large, lithe dog.
My sister.
My mother.
These foolish folk accused me of ghastly crimes. Poisoning my beloved? I would rather poison the entire population of Moonvale.
The entire realm. Beyond.
I would never harm my Ginger. They were fucking idiots to think otherwise.
Ginger was the only thing I cared about.
Violence was beginning to build in my veins. It threatened to rise to the surface, to overtake me, to swallow me whole.
The pit of violence was more recognizable, now. It stemmed from that dark place. From my time in that dark realm…
I didn’t necessarily want to hurt anyone. But I would if I needed to. Without an ounce of hesitation.
Darkness was in my nature. I knew it intrinsically, as thoroughly as I knew Ginger was mine.
It was an instinct I couldn’t place but believed wholeheartedly. For if I couldn’t trust my instincts, I was nothing.
I was already nobody, with shattered memories and nowhere to call home, but I refused to let my very existence be reduced to nothing.
Ginger was out there somewhere. Alive. Maybe even waiting for me. She had to be.
I began to plot my way out.
It would be simple, surely. I was smarter than all these folk. Stronger. More cunning.
More vicious.
And at this point, I had nothing to lose.
Not even my morality.
I could snatch the next folk who came to deliver my meal. Probably that scrawny human Linc. He would be easy to incapacitate.
If I smashed his head against the bars, I could probably retrieve the key to my cell from him—surely, he had one.
Then I would fight my way free until I reached the forest.
Easy.
I reveled in the darkness, content that my secret scheming would be unknown to anyone. The darkness hid me, cloaked me, comforted me in a way that nothing else could.
Though I didn’t know much about myself, I knew I was a creature of the dark, and that my wife would live. And that was enough. For now.
Anew sound broke me from my plotting.
I braced myself—crouching in the corner of the cell, withdrawing into the shadows, praying the dim light of the wall sconces wouldn’t reach me and reveal the manic gleam that was surely obvious in my eyes.
I was ready to attack.
Until the sound registered.
I expected footsteps to pound down the stairs, like they always did, but this time, a new sound broke the silence.
The rhythmic clacking of hooves against stone.
Two hooves.
I straightened to my full height, emerging from the shadows.
Murder suddenly vacated my thoughts. I wouldn't harm anyone where my Ginger could see—not if I could help it.
They would see reason. Ginger would make them.
“Ginger,” I breathed as she approached.
She didn’t hear me. Or, at least, she didn’t react.
She walked up to the bars, wrapped in a bedsheet, her face tight and pale. She was nothing like her normal, lively self. It pained me, seeing her so drained.
But I was just relieved she was alive. My knees threatened to give out. A small part of me wanted to curl up and weep, to clutch her to my chest and never let her out of my sight again.
If only a small part of me could remain with her.
The others must have remained upstairs. I didn’t care about them.
I drifted to the bars to get as close to my mate as possible. Her posture was rigid, as though it took immense effort to keep her body upright. She moved slowly, too.
Her heartbeat was a drum in my ears. The sound was the most beautiful music—cleansing after how sluggish it had been in the forest.
She was nervous.
I made an effort to look less menacing, though I had no idea how I came off to her.
She didn’t like me, that much was obvious. She could hardly even tolerate my presence.
But somehow, some way, I knew she would come around. It was fated.
I just had to keep trying.
“You asked for me,” she said. Not a question but a statement uttered tersely.
My demands had clearly made their way to her.
“I did.”
She tilted her head to the side, waiting for me to speak.
But I didn’t know what to say. How could I explain that I couldn’t move on if I didn’t know she was alright?
How could I explain that the thought of her death extinguished every burning flame in my soul?
How could I explain that my happiness relied solely on whether she was okay, whether she had a smile on her face?
How could I explain that she was my life now?
Every breath I pulled into my lungs was for her and her alone.
The intensity would surely scare her away.
“Well?” she asked. “Let’s hear it.”
I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. “I was worried about you.” That was the understatement of the millennia.
“Worried? And why would you be worried?”
Did she not know? “I found you. In the woods.”
She nodded slowly. “That was you. I guessed as much.”
I waited for her to say more. For her to condemn me. To curse at me. To accuse me of poisoning her as the others had.
But she didn’t.
She merely examined my face.
“I wasn’t sure,” I started. “I didn’t know if you were going to make it. Your heart was beating so slowly…”
She nodded, but her throat worked on a swallow. “You can hear my heartbeat?”
“I can.” Was that not normal? Her heartbeat was a drum in my ear, something I was constantly aware of in her presence. My favorite sound. I couldn’t tune her out even if I wanted to.
“Okay. That’s… okay. Well,” she flipped her hand aimlessly. “I made it.”
“And thank the fates for that,” I said quietly. This realm would not have recovered from the destruction if she hadn’t.
“They think you poisoned me.”
I took a deep, steadying breath. “And do you think the same?”
She examined me closely. Her eyes scraped over my face, my body, lingering on my hands and, weirdly enough, my mouth. Eventually, her gaze returned to mine. “No,” she whispered.
“No?’
“No,” she repeated. “I found those mushrooms on my own. I remember that much. I’m still not sure how you found your way into the situation. You weren’t there when I fell.”
“They say the widowmaker mushrooms aren’t local,” I reminded. I wasn’t sure why I wanted her to rally against me, but I couldn’t help but share all the information. If she were going to side against me, I wanted to get it over with.
She nodded contemplatively. “They aren’t. Details, details.”
A smile threatened to tug on my face. I felt suddenly lighter. “Details, indeed. You don’t think I planted them there for you to find?”
“No. If you wanted to kill me, why would you rescue me afterward? Anyone could have moved the mushrooms,” she said. “And with the magic returning…” She flapped her hand dismissively as if I would understand that vague statement.
I didn’t.
“Magic returning?” I asked, confused.
“You know, how magic returned to the realm after Hallow’s Eve.”
“It did?” I asked. During my time in Moonvale, I had heard folk discussing the mysteries of magic, sure, but I figured they were just idiots. Magic was everywhere. In everything. It always had been, and it always would be.
…Right?
“Have you been living under a rock?”
“Maybe I have,” I said, defensive. I didn’t like being at a disadvantage.
She seemed to notice my confusion and explained, “Things have been haywire. Magic was gone, and now it’s back, and we weren’t expecting it. Strange things have been happening.”
“And now. Are you okay?” I couldn't help but ask.
She tugged the sheet tighter around her shoulders and straightened her spine. “I’m alive.”
“But are you alright?” I pressed.
Her smile was tight. “I’ve been better. Honestly, I feel like dirt. But some rest and a bowl of stew should fix me right up.”
“That’s all it takes?”
“Sometimes. They tell me I’ve been asleep for days.” She leaned against the bars, no longer keeping as much distance between us. Her normal sweet honey smell was tainted, cloaked in something astringent. I hated it.
But at least the sickly scent of death was gone.
“The longest days of my existence.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything else for a long moment.
Eventually, she spoke again. “And how old are you?”
I took a step back from the bars. “Old,” I said.
“You don’t remember much, do you?”
My hackles rose. “I remember enough.”
She nodded. “Where you came from?”
“Does that matter?”
“Your family? What you do with your time?” she pressed.
“I walk through the woods. Collect things. I have a mother. A sister.” I threw the answers at her, hoping with every fiber of my being that they were enough to satisfy her, to convince her that I wasn’t mindless and empty. That I was worthy of her.
She kept going. “Your name? Don’t tell me it’s actually Shade.”
“Shade is a perfectly fine name.”
“But it’s not your name.”
“And what makes you so sure?”
She contemplated for a moment. “It doesn’t fit. I thought it did, at first. But it doesn’t.”
“Whatever you say, wife. I’m just happy you’re alive. You can call me whatever you’d like.”
“Not your wife,” she grumbled. “So why wouldn’t you speak to anyone else?”
“I told you. I wanted to see that you were okay.”
“I’m sure the others told you I was alive.”
I scoffed. “Those fools? They threw me down here; they would say anything to make me cooperate. I needed proof.”
“Fair enough. And what if I had died?”
My stomach roiled.
She watched my face closely, though I could see how tired she was from simply leaning against the bars. I ached to slip my arm around her waist, to hold her up. Or, better yet, to scoop her into my arms like I had in the woods.
The darkness around her thickened, and she seemed to ease a bit.
I had to swallow twice before I could speak. “You didn’t.”
“But if I had passed beyond the veil? Would you have stayed down here forever, refusing to speak to anyone?”
“If you had died, Ginger, I would have gone with you.” After destroying everything I could get my hands on.
You are my life now, is what I didn’t say aloud.
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not true. You would have spoken to someone eventually.”
“You are the only one worth speaking to.”
“You’re strange. And very intense. Did you know that?”
I nodded once. “I can be strange. As long as I am also yours.”
Exasperated, she took a step back. “You’re relentless.”
“You have no idea what I’d be willing to do for you, wife.” I shoved my heart into my voice, begging her to hear it in my words.
“And if I ran?”
“I would follow you anywhere.”
She knocked on the stone wall, raising her voice weakly. “You can come down now!”
Footsteps thundered down the stairs.
“Oh, he’s talking, is he?” the gryphon asked.
“To my wife,” I said.
Ginger looked at me sharply. “And Tommins, too. If you ever want to get out of this cell.”
I exhaled heavily through my nose. I was unable to resist her commands. “If I must.”
Tommins visibly relaxed. “Thank the Old Gods,” he muttered.
A shiver shot down my spine, but I ignored it. I settled onto the cot in the corner. “What do you wish for me to say?”
“Many things. Where you came from. What you want from us. Why the King is looking for you.”
“I don’t have those answers for you…”
Ginger slapped a palm onto her forehead, and Tommins sighed heavily. “Not this again.”
“No, it’s not that… I just… I cannot recall.”
“You don’t remember?”
I shook my head.
“Well, I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to think about it,” Tommins declared.
And with that, the folk swept from the room, leaving me alone once more.