Prologue #2
I became excruciatingly aware of just how close we were standing. I could smell the salt on her skin the fever had left, along with the earthy aroma of the herbs we’d poured into her to staunch the bleeding and help her replenish all that she’d lost.
I could count every dark lash that framed those stunning golden eyes — see the tiny divots in the half-moon scar that adorned her neck, as well as the faint silvery lines of smaller scars.
The one bisecting her upper lip.
The one below her left ear.
Wounds from training when she’d been less experienced. Mistakes that had left their mark, despite her preternatural healing capabilities.
I fucking loved each and every one of them.
They were proof of her strength. Her viciousness and resilience. They told the story of a huntress who’d been young and clumsy with a blade once — a female who, despite the magical blood that flowed through her veins, was still exquisitely mortal.
She was right there in front of me. Close enough that if I leaned in, I could brush my lips against hers.
But I knew that Lyra would never make the mistake of getting close to me again.
“Please,” I rasped, grinding my back molars together.
I didn’t care that I was begging. For this, I would beg.
“He must be stopped. If he isn’t —” I forced out a breath and squeezed my eyes shut.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you, Lyra.
For even a chance to end him. Without you . . .”
“What?” she snapped. “The realm will be lost? Utterly consumed by darkness?”
Her tone was so acerbic that I opened my eyes, only to find her glaring at me. “ I’m not the one who’s been stealing innocent souls to feed his power all these years. ”
My throat ached as I swallowed, pressing my fist into the wall so hard that the plaster beneath it crumbled.
She didn’t understand — would never understand what was at stake. The one thing I could not give up, even if it meant destroying my own kingdom in the process.
“If you want my help, I need you to answer a question.”
“Fine,” I said. Too quickly, I realized.
Whatever it was, I knew it would sever the shreds of this bond between us. But I owed her answers.
“Did you kill her?” Lyra’s voice cracked, and when I met her gaze, I was startled to see tears shimmering in her eyes.
I’d never seen Lyra cry, and that, more than anything, broke me.
Here was the truth I could never escape. The one thing she could never forgive.
I realized then that it didn’t matter how many thousands of souls I’d sacrificed. How many I’d robbed of an eternity of peace. There was only one that mattered to her , and that death would forever brand me as a monster.
She was never going to look at me the way she had back at the House of Guile. Would never understand why I’d done the things I’d done. Now that she knew what I was, there would be no convincing her that I didn’t deserve every name I’d earned over the centuries.
Son of Semphrys.
Dark Prince.
Taker of Souls.
To her, I was my father’s loyal dog — indirectly responsible for the rot that plagued my land.
I was despicable. A liar and a wretch. The only way she would ever help me was if she thought she might get the chance to sink that witchwood blade into my heart too .
But I had to end this, even if it meant giving her up. I had no other choice.
If I wanted to save my kingdom, I had to make Lyra hate me. Fill her heart with so much contempt that she would wield her blade against my father, if only for the opportunity to end me too.
She needed me to be wicked, so I would be as wicked as they came. I would play the part of the demon prince who had deceived her — Semphrys’s creature, who was every bit as depraved as she imagined me to be.
“Ask me what you really want to know,” I growled, curling my lip over my teeth so she could glimpse the monster hiding behind the mask. “Do you want to know if she fought me when I dragged her to the Otherworld?”
Lyra’s face went deathly pale, and I released my grip on my demon magic, allowing tendrils of dark shadow to billow around me, gliding over the floor like a black mist and twining around her legs.
“Did you want to ask me if she suffered ?” I sneered.
“If I brought your mother back only to watch her bleed out in that filthy alleyway, just as you did when that bloodsucker gave you that?” I thumbed the scar on her neck, and Lyra jerked away from my touch.
“Do you want to know whether I enjoyed the sound of her screams when my father broke her or if I was just doing my duty?”
I put a disdainful emphasis on the last word, tilting my head to the side and examining her as if she were prey. A weak, pitiful thing the likes of which I’d never seen before.
“If you want to know if I’m merely the son of the demon king forced to do his bidding, or if I really am the soulless wretch they make me out to be, I have really, really bad news.”
I pulled a smirk that felt all wrong and let a little of that darkness pool in my eyes, obscuring the gray of my irises. “Let me be clear, little huntress. You will help me end my father’s reign. And in doing so, you will help put a demon prince on the throne of Anvalyn.”
I leaned into her space, my insides clenching as she recoiled, pressing her body into the wall behind her. “You can be my prisoner for as long as you like. I am immortal, love. I have all the time in the world.”