Chapter 45
The crest of the rising sun peeks over the horizon, but its light never truly reaches us. A shroud of darkness clings to the ship, muting the gold dawn.
I stand with my back pressed to the port-side railing, fingers curled tightly around the damp wood as I stare across the deck.
Rian, Jaxon, Draven, and Darius form a silent line near the bow, their attention fixed on the massive black ship cutting through the water toward us.
Only minutes ago, Rian wrapped his arms around me, his mouth desperate against mine. Now there is no trace of that male.
The Shadow Prince stands rigid, expression carved into stone. Shadows pool at his feet like obedient hounds as he waits to see who dares approach on one of his uncle’s vessels.
The deck begins to fill.
Men, women, and children emerge from below, summoned by Rian’s cadre to “greet” our visitor. The word echoes uneasily in my mind.
My stomach knots.
Rian hadn’t known this ship was coming. I’d seen it in his reaction.
The flash of fury in his eyes.
His shadow’s immediate readiness for violence.
The way he and his cadre now stand braced, darkness cloaked thickly around them, tells me everything I need to know.
They’re preparing for battle.
But I seem to be the only one concerned.
The defecting Virendrellians converse and smile with ease, taking this moment to bask in their successful escape.
“What’s this I hear about one of the Shadow King’s lackeys gracing us with his presence?”
I flinch at the sudden voice before relief floods me.
“Hali!” I wrap my arms around her. “You’re okay?”
“Thanks to you,” she says, hugging me back. “And I’m sorry about Nance. I swear, I had no idea she was in contact with the Sea Fae.”
I shove down the questions that news elicits. “It’s not your fault. Besides, it doesn’t matter. We’re all safe.”
For now.
The honey scent of Hali’s freshly washed hair carries on the breeze, sharp against the salt and smoke that still cling to me.
I’m painfully aware of how disheveled I am while she’s changed into oversized trousers and a long tunic, clearly borrowed from her brother.
My gaze drifts back to the Shadow Fae.
Freed from astlerium manacles, their shadows ripple and stretch along their backs, but Rian’s are the darkest by far. They cling to him like a second skin.
“Well,” a male voice drawls nearby, “this is not how I imagined my first day as a free man would begin.”
My head snaps toward him. “Leto?”
The fire wielder approaches with easy confidence, still dressed in his pristine toga from the evening’s festivities. Unlike me, not a single wrinkle mars the fabric, and his hair is immaculate.
“Hello, Elara.”
I gape at my dance partner. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah, yes.” Anders appears. “I forgot I have not properly introduced you. Elara, meet my nephew, Leto Orestis.”
My jaw drops. “You’re Anders’s nephew?”
Beside me, Hali crosses her arms with a huff.
Leto smirks. “Surprised?”
“Why?” My gaze swings to Anders. “Why hide it?”
“Yes, Leto.” Hali sneers. “Why hide?”
I have a feeling she’s not talking about his relation to Anders.
Leto’s expression darkens. “Because you know exactly what it’s like to be half Fae in Virendrell.”
Hali stiffens. She snaps her lips closed.
I clear my throat and turn to Anders. “You should have told me.”
You should have told me a lot of things.
“Perhaps,” he says. “But it changes nothing now.”
I guess that’s true.
Hali’s hands curl into fists, and her lips form a thin line as she continues to glare at Leto.
The tension hums like a drawn bowstring. Not for the first time, I feel the weight of their unknown history pressing between them.
I scan the deck.
I don’t realize I’m searching for Erik and his leather-clad crew until an odd pang of disappointment strikes me when I don’t find sea-green eyes.
“Looking for someone?” Silas joins our group, and his calm presence lifts the worst of the lingering tension.
I meet his stare, but then my gaze dips to the items tucked under his arm.
“My satchel!” I reach out.
The scholarly Fae chuckles and hands it over. Relief floods me when I find Calla’s diary and the Fae tome still inside.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“Thank Anders.” Silas tilts his head to the Mountain Fae. “He made sure we retrieved them from the beach.”
I clutch the satchel strap tightly and meet Anders’s gaze. “Thank you.”
He inclines his head. “You’re welcome.”
A burst of laughter erupts near the stern.
Two Virendrellian men shove each other jokingly, as though an ominous ship isn’t sailing toward us. As though formidable Shadow Fae don’t stand among them.
I suppose their new freedom masks other fears. At least for the moment.
“Where are the Sea Fae?” I can’t help but ask.
“They left,” Silas answers.
I whip my head around and scan the horizon. Endless ocean greets me.
“How?”
Erik was here minutes ago.
How could he and his men already be gone?
“The Sea Fae have unique means of traveling the ocean,” he replies with a wistful note. “It’s a special blessing granted to them by The Mother many generations ago.”
What in the world could that blessing be?
A blare of a horn bounces against my eardrums.
My head snaps up, and my eyes fly wide.
The black ship bobs in the water less than fifty feet from ours.
I stagger back against the railing as the ship’s flag snaps in the wind: a serpent coiled around a blue selmary rose.
How in the Gods’ names did it get here so quickly?
The deck falls silent.
Children cling to their parents. The men who were laughing and joking now stare, pale and wide-eyed.
Silas and Anders shift, placing themselves in front of me, Hali, and Leto.
My heartbeat whooshes in my head, and I feel my pulse in my fingers.
The waiting is torture.
I reach deep into my chest, searching for any sign of my light magic. Its presence would offer a modicum of reassurance, the slightest hope that I’ll be able to defend myself if this turns ugly.
But the familiar warmth is absent.
Not even a spark flickers to life despite my desperation.
The ship is now ten feet away.
A tall wooden plank rises into the air from the second ship. It slams onto ours with a forceful thud.
I hold my breath.
A cloaked male steps forward. The dark hood conceals his face.
A pulse of darkness radiates from the stranger, and the ship under my feet seems to recoil as it sinks into the waves.
The man crosses the bobbing plank without swaying.
Hali shifts closer. A glance reveals her pinched lips. Leto’s features, too, are drawn tight. A flash of fire crosses his gaze.
“Careful,” Anders mutters over his shoulder.
Leto’s expression cools.
The cloaked male’s boots reach the edge of our ship. He steps onto the deck with effortless grace.
No one speaks.
Even the sea hushes, the waves no longer slapping against the hull.
Shadows skitter from the stranger’s feet then coil back around to surround his legs. His hood shifts as hidden eyes sweep the deck.
Then long, tan fingers rise and lower his hood.
Black hair.
Cruel eyes.
A face eerily similar to Darius’s, aside from the silver streaks marring his temples.
King Marek.
The truth knocks the air from my lungs. My legs tremble.
When Rian and the others drop into low bows, I know I’m right.
The Shadow King stands on this ship.
But…why?
I don’t dare breathe as King Marek’s sharp, appraising eyes scan the deck once more.
When they land on a man and child huddled near the stairwell that leads below deck, his nostrils flare.
“Half-breeds,” he growls.
Utter contempt threads through his deep voice.
I exhale a shaky breath.
The bitter taste of panic rises into the air as the crowd finally grasps the precariousness of the situation we’re in.
“Hello, Uncle.” Rian rises to his full height, drawing the evil king's glare. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Why are you in the company of half-breeds, nephew?” King Marek asks. “And why do you sail on a criminal’s ship?”
“The vessel we traveled on was rendered inoperable. My cadre and I commandeered this one to continue our journey.”
The king’s gaze is cold. Calculating. “And the half-breeds? How did they come to join your traveling party?”
“We picked them up in Virendrell.”
His nostrils flare again. “Why?”
“Jaxon and his sister have been in contact,” Rian says with a shrug. “She revealed a large population of wielders wished to be free of Augustus and Helen’s rule. So…we obliged.”
“Indeed?” Marek’s gaze slides to Jaxon, who still bows at his feet. “How…generous of you, nephew.”
Rian doesn’t respond.
Am I impressed or wary by how easily Rian lies to his uncle?
I don’t reach a decision before Marek’s eyes snap back to the prince. “And what is your plan with the half-breeds?”
“To bring them to Eranthia, of course.”
A ripple of unease travels through the crowd.
“Hm.” Marek’s hard eyes lock onto his heir. “Good. We could use more souls to replace the numbers we’ve lost.”
My throat tightens, and the possibilities of how they “lost” those souls threaten to unravel the precarious threads of self-control holding me together.
Rian dips his head. “My thoughts exactly.”
Marek’s gaze flicks back to the Virendrellians. “But to let them roam freely? Is it wise?”
“The shadows keep them in check.”
A smile ghosts the king’s mouth. “Bold of you.”
Shadows stir at Rian’s feet.
The king hums in apparent satisfaction.
His attention shifts, once more surveying the crowd of people he now plans to assimilate into his cursed kingdom.
Then his gaze lands on me, as sharp as a blade pressed between my ribs.
King Malek tilts his head like a predator. “And a human?”
My pulse detonates.
I don’t know how it's possible, but he says the word with even more disdain than he did half-breed.
“Yes.” Rian shifts his stance so he no longer stands between me and his uncle. “She is a healer. Hired to make Darius comfortable as we travel.”
The king’s eyes slide to Darius.
So do mine, and I fight to keep my jaw from falling open when I note Darius’s complexion has once more dulled to a sickly gray pallor.
It can’t be…
My gaze drops to my arms.
They’re still unmarked.
I completed the deal.
Darius is healed.
So why does he look sick again?
The answer comes quickly.
Glamour.
Rian must be glamouring him to look ill.
Gods…
His power even works on the king!
Marek studies Darius for another moment, then his gaze returns to me. It lingers. Sharpens.
“Interesting.” He tucks his hands behind his cloaked back. “Does someone claim her?”
My breath stutters.
“Or,” he continues, his voice deceptively pleasant, “will she be up for auction when we return to Eranthia?”
Hali presses against me.
We lock eyes.
A silent vow passes between us. She will protect me.
She reminds me so strongly of Ferria that tears prick my eyelids.
I blink them back, then face the Shadow King again.
Draven steps forward. “I claim her.”
The words toll in my ears like ominous bells.
A voice slides into my mind, low and controlled, familiar in the sense that I’ve heard it in real life. Just never in my mind.
Do not react.
My heart slams against my sternum so hard it hurts, but I heed Draven’s mind-spoken words.
I lock my knees and force my face into a placid mask, even as my lungs seize, making it difficult to breathe.
“Indeed?” King Marek’s gaze flicks to Draven. “Your father will be proud to hear you’re finally asserting dominance.”
Draven doesn’t react.
I stare at his back, at the rigid set of his shoulders, and realize he’s holding himself together by sheer will alone.
The king nods once, then refocuses on his nephew.
“Well.” He claps his hands together lightly. “Now that I’ve found you…”
The word found settles like a verdict.
“We will return home.”
No!
“Uncle,” Rian says, tone measured, “I still have work left to do.”
Yes, Gods…please.
Please allow Rian to take this ship and all its occupants to the Sea Fae.
They may have unleashed pirates to attack Virendrell, but my gut screams that Erik’s people are, undoubtedly, the lesser of two evils when compared to the violent Shadow King.
“Nonsense.” Marek’s lips curve, slow and satisfied. “You’re needed in Eranthia.”
The sea now crashes against the hull, violent and unrelenting.
I grip the railing to anchor myself. It feels like the world is tilting, sliding, pulling me somewhere I do not wish to go.
Then the king speaks again. “Where your future bride awaits.”
I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I don’t even blink.
Out of the corner of my eye, Rian’s shadows surge, snapping outward before he reins them in.
For the briefest moment, his gaze flickers toward me.
Just a flicker.
Then his face goes still.
No denial.
No protest.
He wears his princely mask once more, his silence louder than the churning sea.
King Marek barks an order over his shoulder, words I can’t make out over the blood roaring in my ears.
Boots hit the plank.
Half a dozen Shadow Fae cross onto our ship, blackened blades strapped to their backs, and curved daggers gleaming at their hips. They fan out around their king, spreading across the deck as if they already own it.
Their gazes roam, leering openly at the Virendrellians, at the trembling women clutching their children, at the men standing too stiffly with tight expressions.
“Ensure your prince remains safe on his journey home,” Marek says, his grin sharp and malevolent. “Oh, and all of our new citizens, as well.”
My stomach churns violently.
New citizens…
Polite words for prisoners.
Moisture burns my eyes as I look at the Virendrellians all around me. They’ll be thrown into the Shadow Fae’s dangerous world all because I asked the Shadow Prince to help them escape.
The same prince who asked to court me, but who already has a bride.
A hot tear rolls down my cheek.
I mistook Rian’s possession for devotion. His concern for something deeper.
And now innocents are paying for my foolishness.
This time, when the sea slams against the hull, my center of gravity shifts over the rail, and there is nothing left for me to brace against.
No shadows catch me.
No promises hold me steady.
Hali’s shout carries on the wind as I fall headfirst into a dark abyss.
Into an unknown fate orchestrated by cruel Gods.
But before my body hits the churning waves, a vision of the Goddess of Death flashes through my mind.
Velmira waits at the gates of the afterlife, her grin wide enough to show sharp canines, eyes glinting with cruel amusement as she watches me fall toward her domain, bordered by jagged cliffs and lifeless grassland.
She looks pleased.
As though she’s been waiting for me a long, long time.
And she’s grateful I’m dragging so many others down with me.
To be continued.
Continue Elara’s story in Kingdom of Cruelty and Charm, The Shadowbound Fae Book Three.