Chapter 19
Ancient magic still flows in the blood of those who walked the earth in ancient times, though some may never discover their own power.
—OLD ONES, ANCIENTS, AND THE FOLK
Damon was the shadow king’s son.
The revelation was like a burning arrow dropped in Thea’s lap.
The oars continued to turn, the boat sliding through the smooth water in silence, but her thoughts were more like river rapids.
She remembered suddenly that the pixie elder had assumed Damon was Erebus himself, but this made more sense.
He had his father’s powers over shadows.
He had the ability to pull people to him, which Erebus used to lure people to this realm.
“Does that mean you’re not the one behind all this?” She couldn’t stop herself from hoping.
“Behind what?” Damon asked.
“The things from this realm coming into Thirstwood.” She willed him to be honest with her. “Shadows and silver trees in my forest.”
Damon’s eyes never left hers. “Some shadows are mine, but only when I’m with them.
The other ones belong to my father. He sends them above to spy, to test the boundaries, and to see how freely they can move about.
And no, I’m not trying to take over Thirstwood.
My father is the one who—” Damon looked around and shook his head, as if regretting how much he’d said.
Relief hit her, hearing that he wasn’t trying to harm her world. “You’re not attempting to take over, but he is.”
Just then, the boat bumped up against something, jolting Thea off the seat.
Damon’s arms came around her, holding her for support.
The contact sizzled through her. Even through the thick fabric of her bodice and his vest, she was excruciatingly aware of the sensation of her breasts pressing against his hard chest. It was enough to make her dizzy with longing. Fight it, she told herself.
“I’m all right,” she said once she found her voice, noticing the tremble in her own limbs.
He took a second before letting her go. She shifted back onto the seat and looked around, noting the castle was on her left. Had the boat merely taken them in a circle? “We’re back here again.”
“I guess I can’t escape it,” Damon said, his tone more bitter than she’d ever heard it. He stared at the castle, a flash of hatred contorting his face.
Thinking he needed a moment alone, Thea stepped from the boat.
She heard Damon exhale and follow her, his feet crunching over the gravel.
She went up the steps and entered through the open doors, blinking at the brightness.
The couples were moving back and forth, lifting arms, turning, performing the same steps as before.
But their faces were sheened with sweat, their eyes tired. They’d grown weaker.
Wait. There were only twenty-two dancers.
“What happened to the Sylvan?” she asked, turning to Damon, her stomach knotting.
Damon’s face closed off, a mask of indifference settling over it. “His ninth night was last night. That’s how long I can keep people here. After that, I owe them to my father.”
She stared at him in shock. “Does that include me? Nine nights and then…?”
He swallowed and met her eyes. “Yes. After nine nights, every dancer must be presented to my father so he can give them a choice: stay or leave. I don’t believe it’s a true choice.
My father would never allow anyone to go free.
But they always stay. He makes most of them into silver trees.
Occasionally, he will choose some to become shadows.
My guess is that he picks the worst souls for that. ”
She stared at him, paralyzed by shock. Moments ago, she’d been relieved he wasn’t behind the silver trees coming into Thirstwood. What a fool she’d been. Her pulse shot blood through her veins in readiness to fight. “What night is this for me?”
His lips tightened. “Your fourth.”
Thea wanted to scream, but the formfitting jacket left her little room to breathe. “You’ve doomed me.” When he said nothing, she had to curl her hands into fists to keep from striking him. “Why? Why do this to any of us?”
He turned his head to the side, a pulse beating in his cheek. “The dance gives power to Erebus, but some of it remains here. The castle, the boat. My little slice of the shadows. Without this, these shadows wouldn’t stay with me.”
“So you invite people here to power your castle and keep your shadows loyal.” Her heartbeat throbbed in her temples, her hands shaking. “And without them to shield you, I could kill you.”
He turned back to stare at her, his eyes searching hers. “Which you no doubt long to do.”
She wanted to take one of her blades and put it in his gut.
“They’re more than shields,” he said, tension in his voice revealing that he wasn’t as calm as he appeared. “Protection, yes, but also power. Currency.”
“Currency for what?” she asked. “I haven’t seen anyone in this realm except dancers and your shadows.”
“You haven’t met my father.” The word father held something ominous and dark.
“You’re saying you have to be powerful or else he’ll… what?” Her tone held a sneer, but she didn’t care. She knew it felt horrible to disappoint one’s father and king, but she wasn’t feeling generous in the moment. “Do what you want and take the punishment later.”
His eyebrows went up. “Is that what you do? Have you defied King Silvanus’s express orders?”
“I would if the order was wrong.” A few months prior, her father had banished her sister Cassia from Scarhamm. Thankfully, the banishment hadn’t stuck. But at the time, Thea had been ready to disobey her father if necessary. She would never hurt Cassia.
“What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you when you displeased your father?” Damon asked. “The very worst thing?”
Thea paused, thinking. “I was thirteen. My father instructed me to be friendly to the son of an important Sylvan family visiting Scarhamm. Unfortunately, the son turned out to be a pig who took my friendliness as permission to stick his tongue down my throat.” She could still feel the shock and rage of that experience all these years later. The feeling of being violated.
Damon’s nostrils flared, fury blazing in his eyes. “Did you destroy him?”
Thea sometimes wished she had. “I pushed him into the river. Unfortunately for the pig, he couldn’t swim.
I fished him out, but my father didn’t appreciate my generosity.
After a blistering lecture, he ordered me beaten with a leather belt by one of the Huntsmen.
My backside was sore for days.” Her lips twisted in bitter satisfaction at the memory.
“Worth it, though. I hope it made the pig think twice before doing that to anyone else. And he never came visiting again.”
Damon didn’t return her smile. “You didn’t deserve that punishment.”
“No. But my father wouldn’t hear the reason. Later, he did and he… I think he regretted it.” Not that he ever apologized. Thea watched the shadows moving over Damon’s face, wondering if everyone had shadows. His were just visible. “What about you? What was the worst?”
He swallowed. “The worst isn’t something I talk about. But I’ll tell you the second worst. When I was seven, my father found me cowering.” His lips pressed together, his expression blanking.
“Cowering in fear?” she asked, wanting to know this for some reason. “From what?”
He didn’t meet her eyes, a bitter smile curving his lips. “His shadows tried to kill me, something they regularly attempted. My father thought it would make me strong to face their attacks alone. He always told me, ‘They sense weakness, and that’s when they devour. You can’t show fear.’”
Thea noticed the stiffness in Damon’s shoulders, as if he were trying to protect himself from the memory. “I still hadn’t learned the lesson he was trying to teach me. I cried out for my father’s help.” He stopped speaking, and she saw that his breathing had quickened.
Thea couldn’t stop herself from putting a hand on his arm, shivering when his shadows passed over her skin. “What did your father do?”
Damon raised a brow at her hand but smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes. “He put me into the cave, a prison for the shadows who are too wild to master, who swear no allegiance to anyone, even my father.”
She swallowed the fury that welled up in her throat. “And he trapped you there? With them?”
Damon nodded. “For three days. When I came out, I was… different. I decided never to show weakness again. I faltered once out of pity… but was quickly reminded why that was a mistake.”
“How did you falter?”
“I tried to help one of the folk my father was dooming to become a silver tree. I learned the lesson too late that no one can stand against him. I fared no better the second time I was imprisoned in the cave.”
Thea let out an angry breath. “You were brave to stand up to him.” She couldn’t believe she had to explain that, but it was clear Damon needed to hear it. “And I don’t believe your father’s strength is as absolute as you think.” There had to be a way to fight back.
His lips curved up, but he shook his head, as if she were naive. “I have shared enough memories for one night. I have told you far too much altogether.”
“No one can swear off weakness,” Thea argued, forcing herself to remove her hand from his arm. After all, she had no reason to comfort him. He had lured her here and planned to allow her to be trapped forever.
“Anything can be accomplished if you’re willing to sacrifice.” Damon’s eyes grew thoughtful as they roved over her face. He looked down and away, then back at her. “Though I have never before had anything I was unwilling to let go.”
The dancers’ song ended, and there was a moment of silence before the strains of another, jauntier tune started up. Damon showed no reaction to the music.
“Do you actually like dancing?” she asked, still curious about him despite her disgust at what he’d done.
“No,” he said sharply. “Wait. As you are so scrupulous about honesty, I will confess that I recently enjoyed dancing for two nights. Before that it had been a long time since I found it pleasant.”
“You mean, before you started using the dance to harvest innocent spirits?”
His expression closed off. “Yes.”
She took in the ballroom, the walls, the lights, the trappings of glamour that were no doubt as false as the prince’s admiration.
It was a misleading, disguised battlefield. No blood, no swords, no stench of death. All you did was put on a dress, step into a dance, stare into a pair of beautiful dark eyes, and you found yourself defeated. Your life over. Your freedom forfeit.
“Will I die on the ninth night?” she asked bluntly, unable to look at Damon, dreading his answer.
His sharply indrawn breath was audible. “Enough, Thea.”
“Because you don’t like admitting how horrible you are?” She turned to look at him, too furious to care about the warning in his eyes. “Or because you’re bored now that I’m not looking at you with doe eyes like the others?”
He didn’t answer. She didn’t think he would. His only words were “Root, take her home.”
The portal opened, and Thea didn’t spare Damon another look as she stepped through it, bracing herself for the topsy-turvy sensations of passing through. As she stepped into Thirstwood, her stomach felt sick.
What form would her spirit take on the ninth night? What would Erebus do with her spirit?
She didn’t know. And she didn’t intend to find out.
Learn your enemy’s weakness, Tibald always said. And exploit it.
Thea had trained all her life with weapons, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fight another way. She would figure out how to stop the king of this twisted, forgotten realm. Because if what Damon said was true, a clock was ticking, and sooner or later, she’d be drawn back here to pay with her life.