Chapter 18
18
DAMIEN
H idden behind a sheer curtain in my private room at The Gilded Serpent, I watched beautiful women dance and play music. Thorne sat on the lounge chair across from me, lazily watching the dancing girls with lust in his eyes, which surprised me.
“Easy there, brother,” I muttered. “The last thing the emperor needs is for you to have bastards running around Elaria.”
Thorne chuckled and turned to face me. “Of course not. I wouldn’t dare. Besides, Father is working on arranging my marriage.”
My brows rose in surprise. “Is he really?”
Thorne nodded. “Soon, I’ll have a Crown Princess,” he said eagerly. “He announced it at the Nightwing banquet the other night. They’ll be holding a selection soon.”
Cat hadn’t mentioned it, which means it must have happened after they left.
“I’ll wager she’s a soldier from the Nightwing battalion,” Thorne pondered. “It’s probably why he announced it then.”
“The female dragons there are fierce,” I commented. “Do you think you can handle them?” I raised a brow.
Thorne snorted. “I can handle anybody. The real question is if they can handle me !” He winked and laughed.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
Thorne suddenly looked grave. “In all seriousness, I believe it's a wise move. A strong alliance within the military could stabilize our position and give us the edge we desperately need.”
“It's a practical approach,” I conceded, shifting slightly in my chair. “But what about your own desires? Does love factor into this equation for you?” I didn’t know why I was asking him such a loaded question. I hadn’t cared about love when I was looking for my twin flame. I just wanted to find the mark and gain my freedom, no matter who it was. But now… things were different. I was starting to feel things I’d never felt before.
Thorne paused, his gaze drifting towards the fluttering curtain before returning to me with a thoughtful expression. “Love would be an unexpected bonus,” he admitted quietly. “I'm primarily looking for someone who can handle the responsibilities that come with our station—someone who understands the weight of the crown.”
“And if the emperor has other ideas?” I asked, knowing our father's tendency to manipulate for his own gain.
“I'll handle it,” Thorne stated simply. “As always.”
His answer was typical Thorne—calm, calculated, and prepared for any eventuality. It was moments like these that reminded me of our stark differences, including his ability to navigate the treacherous waters of court life with a composure I seldom felt. I would always be more comfortable in the shadows.
“Well,” I said, leaning back as the next performance behind the sheer curtain began, “whomever she ends up being, I hope she's up to the challenge. Being tied to the Drakonars is no small fate.”
Thorne nodded solemnly. “Indeed, it's not just a marriage; it's an alliance that could shape the future of Elaria.”
“So you say.” I shrugged. “Just be careful with the emperor. He always has a trick up his sleeve and a hidden agenda.”
“I know our father well, Damien. Relax.” He reached for his cup of wine. “I know she’ll be worth it. But Crown Princesses aside, is Lady Arya okay?”
I nodded. “She was a bit shaken up after what happened at the banquet, but both she and her brother Jacob are okay.”
Thorne frowned. “No, not that. I’m talking about her punishment. I heard Lord Zacharia used the familial punishment on her yesterday. She’s been bedridden ever since.”
I froze for a moment and then shot to my feet. Thorne followed, swiftly gripping my elbow to stop me. “You can’t go to the Ryder residence, Damien!” he whispered. “If you get caught…”
“I have to make sure she’s okay.” I ripped my arm out of his grasp. “And to teach Lord Zacharia a lesson on touching what does not belong to him!” I growled.
“Damien!” Thorne shouted. “That is his daughter !” He stood in front of the door to block me. “He can punish her however he pleases. You know this. Don’t get involved in their family business. Also… as brutal as it is, Father is pleased that Julian got justice for what happened at the banquet.”
“What?” I gasped and whipped my gaze in Thorne’s direction.
He gulped. “Father didn’t appear until that fae showed up, but he heard how Arya humiliated Julian in front of all those dignitaries. It was no secret he was displeased with the Ryders. Frankly, as his minister, I don’t think Lord Zacharia had a choice in the matter.”
My jaw clenched at Thorne's explanation, and the muscles in my neck tensed. “Pleased? That bastard takes pleasure in others' suffering!” I turned away from my brother and paced the small space as frustration and anger bubbled within me. “And just because Lord Zacharia is her father doesn’t give him the right to treat her like that! No one deserves that.” He’s not even her father! I wanted to scream.
Thorne watched me pace, his expression serious. “I know you care for her, but this isn't our fight, Damien. Getting involved will only make things worse for you and her. You know how precarious your position is with Father.”
I stopped in my tracks and faced him, my frustration evident. “I don’t care. I can't just sit back and do nothing!” The thought of Cat being hurt under her so-called father’s orders was something I couldn’t stomach. I couldn’t care less what my so-called father would do to me.
Thorne sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Look, Damien, I understand your feelings, but try to think strategically. There are ways to help without storming over there and causing a scene that will just land you in hot water—or worse.”
His words hit hard and had the desired effect of extinguishing some of my impulsive anger. “What do you suggest, then?” I asked, my tone filled with irritation and desperation.
“Let me talk to Father first,” Thorne offered. “See if I can sway him or at least understand his motives better. Meanwhile, either stay here or go somewhere safe, or better yet, return to Obsidian Reach. Don’t go charging over to the Ryders. Not tonight.”
Did Thorne really think I could just sit idly and wait? It was as if he didn’t know me at all. Maybe he didn’t. Even if I didn’t go pay Lord Zacharia a visit, I still needed to see Cat with my own eyes to make sure she was okay and find out why she hadn’t sent word to me about what happened. After the other night… I thought…
I shook my head. “Fine,” I lied. “I’ll stay here.”
Thorne sighed. “Good. I’ll send a raven once I have news.” He left quickly, leaving me in The Gilded Serpent to stew in my anger.
Once Thorne was gone, the buzz of the brothel around me seemed to amplify. Each laugh and clinking glass was a maddening contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. I couldn't sit still or drown the urge to personally ensure Cat's safety. Thorne’s plan was sound. Logical, even. But waiting in the background wasn't my style—not when it came to her.
The Southern District stretched out beneath the night sky as I quietly crept through its darkened alleys and streets, a path I had tread many times before in secrecy. Within minutes, I’d crossed the border into the Northern District. The shadows cloaked my movements, an ally in my mission to reach the Ryder residence unseen. My title, the Shadow Prince, wasn't just a moniker given for my clandestine ways or my darker tendencies; it was a testament to my ability to move undetected, a skill I had honed over years of necessity.
The Ryder residence loomed ahead, its imposing structure cast in the silvery glow of the moon. Guards patrolled the grounds, their movements predictable and timed. I waited, watched, and when the moment was right, slipped through the gate and past them with the ease of a shadow melding with the darkness.
Inside, it was quiet, the hour late enough that only the soft steps of the night watch disturbed the silence. I knew the layout well because I’d studied it extensively for all the times I needed an escape plan or entry route for less confrontational visits. Tonight, my feet carried me swiftly and silently up to Cat’s room.
The door was slightly ajar, spilling a sliver of candlelight into the courtyard. I paused and listened for any sound of distress or movement. Hearing none, I gently pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it shut behind me.
Cat was asleep in bed, the moonlight bathing her face in a serene glow that belied the harshness of her recent experiences. Her features were relaxed in sleep, but the faint traces of dried tears on her cheeks and the way her brow furrowed even in slumber spoke volumes of her pain.
I approached quietly, my heart clenching at the sight. The need to protect her, to erase the causes of her pain, surged within me. Gently, I reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She stirred slightly and a soft sigh escaped her lips, but she did not wake.
Standing there, watching her in the quiet of the night, resolve settled over me. No matter what Thorne said or what the emperor planned, I would not let harm come to her again. Not while I still drew breath.
In the dim glow of moonlight spilling through the window, Cat looked beautiful, almost otherworldly. Her chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of deep sleep. The room around us was steeped in silence, save for the occasional rustle of the wind against the curtains, which fluttered slightly, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
I pulled a chair up beside her bed, my eyes fixed on her face, tracing the contours that I had come to know so well. The gentle slope of her nose, the curve of her cheeks, and the fullness of her lips—all these details etched deeper into my memory as I watched over her. The urge to protect her and shield her from any further harm or pain felt like a tangible force. The guilt of not being here to protect her when she needed it most weighed on me.
As the night wore on, the outside world, with all its demands and dangers, seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but this quiet moment between us. Time seemed to slow, and I found myself lost in the rhythm of her breathing.
Without realizing it, I reached out and took her hand, holding it gently in mine. Her skin was soft and warm, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. It was a simple gesture, but one that felt as significant as any vow or promise.
Cat stirred, and her eyelids fluttered open. She turned her head slightly, her eyes adjusting to the dim light until they finally focused on me. There was a moment of confusion, then a flicker of surprise before her features relaxed.
“Damien?” she whispered, her voice hoarse with sleep.
I squeezed her hand and offered a small, reassuring smile. “I'm here,” I said quietly.
“Why?” There was an undercurrent of curiosity, perhaps, or the faint trace of vulnerability, which was rare for Cat.
“I needed to know you were safe,” I replied, my voice low and even. “After everything that's happened, I couldn't rest until I saw you with my own eyes.”
She watched me for a long moment, her gaze searching mine. Then she slowly nodded and a faint smile curved her lips. “I'm glad you're here,” she admitted. The simple honesty of her words struck a chord deep within me.
As the first light of dawn began to filter through the window, bathing the room in muted, golden light, we sat in silence, neither of us needing to speak. In that moment, with the world held at bay, it felt like nothing could touch us. Here, in this quiet room, there was just the two of us, and that was enough.