Chapter 3 Prince Sloth
THREE
Prince Sloth
I TOOK IN OUR surroundings, then flicked my attention toward the purple haze at the edge of the horizon.
The mountain range was real, but not quite natural.
It was too sharp, too menacing, too dark and saturated.
There was a peculiar quality about it all, one that was similar to the strangeness of dreams.
I had a strong feeling I knew where we’d landed.
Somnia. The land where nightmares roamed and could be twisted and used to torture anyone foolish enough to cross over its wards.
Long before the old gods banished Nyantha here, the realm used to be known for its dreamlike beauty.
Now it was a reminder of what could happen to our realm if the Goddess of Night escaped.
I released a slow breath and fought another smile. The woman had brought us exactly where I needed to go to track Xavier and the book.
I kept half my attention locked onto the enigmatic woman standing before me as I allowed our stalkers to move in for the kill.
I wasn’t afraid, but given the nightmares creeping closer, the realm must be feeding off one of her surface-level fears.
I scanned her and quickly logged details; heart-shaped face, pert nose, long mocha-brown hair with strands of caramel, similar eye color, pale skin with a hint of warmth.
If my brother Lust were here, he’d make some loathsome quip about peaches and cream.
I wasn’t my brother.
I looked deeper, searching for hints of treachery and deceit.
Quiet chittering raised the fine hair along my neck, the sound growing closer.
I still had a few moments.
The spell I’d used to find the nearest portal stone had brought me to the village across the cove from Mount Lyra, and I was more than a little put out that someone else had beaten me to the stone. Now I’d need to keep her safe until I could send her back and then use it to travel here again.
I didn’t need one more complication as I hunted the Liber Noctem.
And there was something about this woman that set me on edge.
I scanned her for any information on who she was and what her motivation for leaving the Shifting Isles might be.
Assassin, poisoner, seductress.
Or possibly someone hunting the dark book.
She could easily fit into any of those categories.
Her eyes were fringed in thick lashes, her lips plump, and her scowl was an impressive weapon aimed directly at me.
Given my height of just over six feet, I placed her around five and a half feet, maybe an inch or so more.
Her long-sleeved dress was simple, a dark peach that complemented her skin tone but was made of cotton and had no frills, much like her dark cloak.
Not highborn, then.
Her lack of fighting leathers or weapons indicated she was no warrior either.
Unless that was a clever deception she used to lure her prey, letting them believe she posed no true harm until it was too late.
I wasn’t convinced she spent nights coldly slicing her enemies’ throats, though. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she was after the Liber Noctem. Rumors of the magic it contained had spread across realms.
Power was a seduction to most.
Pebbles skidded over the edge of the cliff; the hunting party was growing.
My pulse raced in anticipation.
It wouldn’t be long now.
My attention swept down; no calluses or burns on the woman’s hands. Which confirmed she didn’t spend her days training or doing manual labor.
Not a baker, laundress, blacksmith, or farmer.
Boots that appeared to be well-worn peeked out from her hemline, allowing her to run swiftly if she had to.
If she wasn’t hunting the Book of Nightmares, I had no idea why she’d want or need a portal stone.
From my brief observation in the village, she didn’t seem to be in duress or escaping from someone.
She was an equation in need of solving. I didn’t deal well with variables.
Nobility or not, I’d imagined several logical paths the woman should have taken when confronted with traveling through realms: hysterics, denial, potential fainting spells.
Reactions most mortals would have to being yanked through a portal by shadows and spit out into what I suspected was the world crafted from nightmares.
The way she’d issued the warning, using that dry tone with a touch of humor, wasn’t expected at all.
Especially if the creatures closing in on us were what I imagined them to be.
She had no idea I was a Prince of Sin; she’d think I was mortal too. Therefore, she should be exhibiting signs of terror that these might be our last moments.
Unless she wasn’t entirely human.
I dismissed the notion of her being other until I found proof otherwise. If she knew of the Book of Nightmares, then that explained why she wasn’t surprised to end up in this realm.
Maybe she had chosen to come here.
I’d think she was fearless if I didn’t detect a slight hint of the emotion coming from her, but my abilities couldn’t differentiate between her being scared of me, of losing the dark book, or of our impending attackers.
I narrowed my gaze on her. She was keeping secrets.
Which made her infinitely more dangerous than the beasts surrounding us.
She arched a brow, her expression clearly indicating she thought I might be slow. “Do you speak the common tongue?”
I bristled.
“I’m fluent in many languages.”
“Wonderful. Right now, I only care about you speaking with a sword or a knife or whatever killing method a sociopath of your caliber normally prefers.”
A sociopath of my caliber. I restrained from resting my hand on the hilt of my dagger. “What, exactly, are you suggesting?”
Her assessment wasn’t far off, but she’d struck a nerve.
I wouldn’t hesitate to slay anything that stood in my way, even the pretty, doe-eyed deceiver staring me down, but I was surprised she’d pieced that together after only briefly looking me over.
She promptly ignored me, and I suspected it wasn’t because of the beasts that were almost within striking range.
This woman refused to answer a stupid question.
My jaw strained from how hard I was clamping it shut. That was twice in as many minutes that she’d questioned my intelligence.
My sin’s hackles were getting raised.
Today wasn’t doing any favors for my patience.
“They’re right behind you.” Her focus slid from them to me. “And they look hungry.”
The smile that curved my lips was meant to instill fear.
She simply raised her brows, irking my sin more with her silent assessment. She clearly found me lacking in more areas.
No one was that calm when faced with a Prince of Sin; even not knowing what I was, most mortals sensed the otherness.
Which meant I really needed to figure out who she was before I found myself with a dagger to the back.
“I know.”
Surprise flashed in her face as I shot forward and lifted her up, spinning around and depositing her behind me.
My blade was already in my fist when I pivoted back to confront them, its familiar weight a comfort as I drank in my opponents, pleased despite our dire predicament.
Based on the nearly silent chittering of their mandibles and the occasional hiss, I’d hoped to find these creatures—a pack of Lycosidae: supernatural spiders that stood almost as tall as horses and were just as wide.
Their bulbous hair-covered bodies had eight long, sturdy legs coming from them, indicating they were built to run and pounce like the wolves they were named after.
And they looked primed to do just that.
They swayed back and forth, their many legs planted in place for now.
A few of them crouched and began bouncing a little, moving at different intervals in a disjointed dance.
I didn’t suffer from arachnophobia but fought the urge to shudder.
“That’s horrifying. Why are they moving like that?”
I kept my attention trained on the spiders. “To frighten us.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“Fear breeds carelessness. They’re hoping we make a mistake because we’re not focused. And right now, you’re feeding into that.”
She muttered something under her breath that I ignored.
I analyzed their massive size and the distance between us. A few steps and they’d have us pinned against the mountainside with nowhere to go.
Lycosidae were a native species of spiders found only in Somnia that had been plucked from mortals’ nightmares and now lived and breathed and were as real as anything.
From the skittering sounds they’d made climbing up the cliff, I’d judged there to be around half a dozen.
I’d been close—there were eight I could see.
Unless more were clinging to the side of the mountain.
Masters at ambushing their prey, they chose specific locations to attack that put their opponents at a disadvantage—like cornering us on the side of this rocky mountain.
The more impaired our senses, the better.
The natural terrain would be difficult to navigate without the added complication of fending off any attacks. As if to drive home the fact that we were in danger, a gust of wind slammed into us, howling its own warning.
Of course the woman would bring us here. By a nest of predators.
My grip on the dagger tightened, the handle rough against my calloused palm.
I would not retreat or surrender. I would finish this, figure out a way to send the woman back home, then set out after the Liber Noctem alone.
“No matter what happens,” I said, “stay behind me. And do not get bitten.”
“Perfect. I’d already planned on using you as a human shield.”
I focused on the rocky soil beneath my boots, grounding myself and ignoring the woman’s ill-timed snark.
I’d trained in all conditions; the uneven footing would be inconvenient but not impossible to contend with. My main concern was keeping them from slipping past me to attack the woman.
Unlike her, I hadn’t been joking.
One bite or stab would be the end for her.
She had the portal stone, which meant she had my full protection for the time being.
The spiders grew bolder, skittering forward another few feet, then crouching. They’d expertly formed a semicircle around us, their onyx eyes glittering in the twilight.