Chapter 15
The blade presses into my skin. One wrong breath, and blood will spill over the lovely courtyard. My hands grip the muscular forearm holding me captive and tug, but it doesn’t budge.
An odd pulse, one I’ve started to associate with the feeling of magic, brushes my skin.
“Stay still,” the man hisses into my ear.
My body locks in place, and my wide eyes focus on the backs of the Fae standing in front of me, willing one of them to turn around and notice what’s going on.
Did they not hear the man?
Did magic mask his voice?
The Fae’s attention remains on the armored men in front of them. The same armored men who, one by one, lose their uneasy expressions when they notice my predicament. Tentative confidence takes its place.
The guard who’d been speaking to the Fae rolls his shoulders back. “It is not our responsibility to assist in proving you aren’t a threat. Our sole duty is to protect Virendrell and our mayor.”
Saliva thickens my throat, but I resist the urge to swallow, sure to slice my skin if I do.
“And it is our duty to speak with your mayor.” Shadows whip around Draven’s legs like eager pups, waiting for their master to unleash them on the soldiers. “Enough of this. We are wasting time.”
“Control your tongue,” the guard’s eyes shift to me, “or your woman will pay the price of your defiance.”
A pulse of darkness ripples through the courtyard.
In sync, my four Fae escorts pivot and discover my precarious situation.
My captor’s breath catches. His fear sours the air.
“Release her.”
Rian’s words land cold and hard. Fury seethes behind his dark eyes as shadows loosen from his body and creep across the ground.
“Call your power back.” The dagger presses harder against my neck, and when skin opens, I wince. “Or I’ll cut her throat.”
“Foolish human.” Rian’s lips twist into a violent, unhinged grin. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
In the blink of an eye, one of the slithering shadows snaps upright and launches toward me.
The dagger shifts, but before it can dig deeper, the shadow slips between my skin and the blade.
I gasp at the cool sensation just before the weapon is shoved out of the man’s hand. The metal clangs against the stone floor, and my captor stumbles back.
I clutch my wounded throat and whirl around as the man crashes to the ground. His wide, bloodshot eyes stare up at the sky. Unblinking.
My heart races. I scan him for a wound, but I find none. I don’t know where Rian’s shadow hit or what he did, but whatever it was…it was lethal.
Roars of outrage rise from the armored guards. Metal slams against metal.
The cloying scent of magic tickles my nose, and instinct has me searching for cover. I dive behind a flowering bush. Clutching onto the blooming branches, I peer around the greenery and take in the violence spreading across the courtyard.
The Virendrellians fight the Fae. At least, they try to.
Shadows pour from the Fae like water from a spigot. They slip along the ground and crawl up the guards’ legs. The guards swat at them like unwanted pests.
The shadows don’t hurt them, but one by one, the armored men succumb to the darkness that wraps around their legs, arms, and chests.
A dark mask presses against their lips, robbing them of speech.
Then the shadowy ropes tighten around their ankles, and they topple to the side. I cringe at the painful thuds.
The Fae stand in a formidable semicircle facing the bound men.
That was too easy…
More guards are sure to come after all that commotion.
But, to my surprise, no one arrives.
The courtyard falls quiet.
Rian lifts a hand and jerks his wrist.
Silas and Draven stride forward, stepping around the fallen bodies and yanking one of the men to his feet. The shadow around his mouth detaches and drops to rest along his throat like a necklace.
Rian snarls. “You will take us to the mayor.”
Darkness hovers over the prince’s body, a dangerous promise, a visible threat.
Fear flashes in the man’s gaze, but he presses his lips together and jerks his head.
Foolish man.
Rian’s anger floods my senses, coating my tongue like ash.
The other bound men flail and flop on the ground, like fish ripped from the water, fruitlessly attempting to free themselves of their dark bindings.
A slow clap punctures the air, and the sharp sound pierces my eardrums with a painful stab.
“Well now…” a masculine voice delivers with an airy quality, “that was quite an entrance.”
All eyes land on the man and woman descending the tall, stone staircase located at the other end of the courtyard. Like everyone else in Virendrell, they wear their hair long and loose. The strands sway as they glide toward us, walking arm in arm.
The couple’s clothes resemble sheets. The flowing fabric is cinched and pinned strategically at their waists and one shoulder.
The woman’s dress, if that’s what it can be called, reaches all the way to the floor while the man’s shirt stops at his hips.
Loose trousers cover the lower half of his body.
I’m so busy taking in their unusual clothing that I don’t notice the shadow that wraps around my wrist before it begins to tug. I’m pulled away from the bush and dragged forward until I stand just behind Rian.
Silas, Darius, and Draven shift back, the three of them forming a protective triangle around me.
The couple reaches us, stopping short of the first bound guard lying on the ground, still thrashing against the shadows.
Both the man and woman focus on Rian.
The man breaks the silence. “This is certainly not how we expected your first royal visit to begin, Prince Zylen.”
The name strikes me in the chest, pulling a tiny gasp from my throat.
I can’t remember the last time I heard the Shadow Prince’s name said out loud. Even muttering his title was considered taboo.
But people whispered it…feared it.
Prince Zylen is the Shadow King’s monster. He patrols the border towns, wreaking havoc in his king’s name. He slaughters innocents for daring to speak out against their Fae rulers. He’s kidnapped children to work as slaves for the Fae.
I acknowledged Rian is that monster the moment Silas rode up on his horse and jokingly addressed him by his title, not realizing I had yet to make that connection.
Horror and fear promptly consumed me, but I cannot lie and say that those emotions didn’t dwindle in the following days.
My interactions with the Fae, and even my past interactions with Rian, the male I viewed as an ordinary soldier, had dulled the blade of truth.
But hearing this stranger say his name out loud forces me to truly, completely accept Rian is Prince Zylen. He’s responsible for countless, horrific crimes. Crimes no sane person could ever forget.
Except… Everything else I thought to be true has been a lie…so what if those stories were also lies?
I exhale a staggered breath and tune back into the world around me.
Rian’s shadows have solidified into a long cape, fluttering behind him despite the lack of breeze. “I did not expect to be recognized.”
The man smiles, but the expression lacks warmth. “There is only one Shadow Fae we know of that wields darkness with such…efficiency.”
Rian crosses his arms. “Then you haven’t heard of my cadre.”
Shadows flow from the other Fae’s shoulders in demonstration.
“On the contrary, rumors of your fabled cadre have reached our shores,” the man replies.
“We are at a disadvantage, then,” Rian says in a cool tone. “As we do not know your name.”
“Augustus.” The man tips his head.
A shorter strand of brown hair slips over his shoulder before he straightens.
Silas clears his throat. “Mayor Augustus?”
“Yes.” He slides a palm over the woman’s hand resting on his arm. “And this is my wife, Helen.”
The mayor pauses.
When the Fae don’t respond, he purses his lips and lifts his chin. “Perhaps we should move this conversation indoors?”
“Yes,” Rian clips. “Perhaps.”
Augustus holds the prince’s stare for several seconds before offering a bland smile.
“Come, dear.” He pats his wife’s hand.
The pair turns and climbs back up the stairs.
“Oh, and Prince Zylen?” Augustus calls over his shoulder. “Do release my guards.”
A gust of shadow disrupts the hair hanging down my back.
Rian coos, “Of course.”
Dark bindings fall to the ground like uncoiled rope. The armored men stagger to their feet, coughing, sputtering, and glaring at Rian with unveiled hatred that’s tinged with blatant fear.
The Fae pay them no mind. Except Draven, who sends out tendrils of shadow from his open palm. I don’t have to look to know they’re slithering into the guards’ ears, altering their memories.
What will the mayor think about that?
Rian’s shadowed cloak billows behind him when he steps forward. He ascends the stairs with a stiff back, his head held high, exuding confidence and power.
And undeniable danger.
“Elara?” Darius holds out a hand.
I take it without a word, unashamed of my desire to stay close to the males who have a vested interest in my survival. Silas and Draven are already striding after Rian. We move to catch up.
Halfway up the gleaming stone steps, Darius mutters, “You’re bleeding.”
I lift my fingers to my throat. They come away red.
I bite my lip. “My magic is weak right now. I told you.”
My healing power is barely even a flicker of warmth in my chest, and its absence gnaws at me.
Darius’s nostrils flare. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” The Pelagor is responsible for my most recent diminished abilities.
He scans our surroundings, lips pinched. “This place is strange.”
“How so?”
“Everything is so…clean.”
I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed.
Other than the soil in potted plants and the gardens, I haven’t seen a speck of dirt in Virendrell. Nearly every surface is made of glistening white material or painted. Everything is perfect. Too perfect.
We reach a stone landing that stretches out in front of us, as wide as the training yard outside Verdanthia’s barracks. It spans the space between us and a pair of large, dark-brown, arched doors.