Chapter 23 Hazelwood Village #2
A huge smile spread across Knox’s face, and he elbowed Harlow in the ribs, gesturing towards where Luna stood. “Well, aren’t you pretty,” Knox purred.
Damien whorled around and, upon seeing Luna, cursed. “Skies above!”
Sheepishly but not meekly, she replied, “I thought you needed help.”
“What would you have done?” Damien asked, barely containing his frustration. He let out an exasperated sigh. “I really wish you had stayed put.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Knox said, flicking his fiery red hair over his shoulder. “Hiding such beauty is simply a crime.”
Harlow whistled. “And such power. I can feel it from here.”
Her cheeks warmed, unease curling in her chest. Unsure of what to do or say, she awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Worried if she did or said the wrong thing, she would end up like the rest of the villagers. Dead.
“I’ve got to say,” Harlow said, maintaining a safe distance from Damien. “I’m impressed you could make such a delicious thing yours.”
“She’s not mine.”
Knox waddled his eyebrows. “So, you’re saying she’s available?” And in two quick strides, he was leaning over her, his arm resting on her shoulder as he played with her hair.
A shudder straightened her spine.
Was he aware that he was still naked?
Luna looked everywhere but down as Knox continued to run his fingers through her hair.
“What a lovely thing you are,” he purred. The difference in his tone was startling; much gentler bordering on flirtatious. It was unnerving how quickly he had changed.
Her noblewoman upbringing forced her to respond with automatic politeness—despite him deserving none. In the coming days, she would regret being this pleasant, wishing she’d come up with some kind of witty retort instead of. “Umm . . . Well, thank you, that’s very kind of you to say.”
“You know,” Knox drawled, gathering her hair to one side before giving it a slight tug that pulled her head backwards, “it’s a well-known fact that I know how to show a woman a good time.” He continued to stroke her hair, his fingers brushing over her shoulders as he did so.
Luna bit her lip. Although she would never admit it out loud, the way Knox played with her hair sent tingles down her scalp that almost felt nice.
Damien was scowling, his entire body taut with barely restrained fury. “You have two choices. Take your hand off her, or I’ll rip it from your body myself.”
Knox rolled his eyes, twisting Luna’s hair around his finger one last time before releasing his hold on her. “Such a charmer, that man you’ve got. I think you could use a little upgrade, don’t you?”
“Uh . . . no, but thank you?” Luna said, once again responding far too politely. “It was nice to meet you and all but—”
“The pleasure is all mine. I didn’t catch your name, though, sweetness. Perhaps you’d prefer I call you, my princess?”
“Oh—skies—no. I’m Luna, but . . . erm . . . we have to go.”
A sly smirk crept across his face—too slick, too self-assured. Luna got the feeling she’d just made a grave mistake.
He grabbed her hand, twirling her on the spot. “Do you have to? We’re just getting started.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her skin.
Luna looked to Damien. Why wasn’t he using his shadows to get rid of them? Was he worried they’d hurt her before his shadows could reach them?
“If the lady insists, perhaps we should let them leave?” Harlow said, stroking his chin. His eyes were on Damien, as if he’d been watching him this entire time. It didn’t surprise Luna; he seemed like a man who missed nothing—keen on catching every detail, even the ones others tried to hide.
“I do,” Luna replied quickly as she brushed her hand against her pants, removing any trace of the kiss and the unwanted attention. “I must insist.”
Knox glared at his friend, a frown forming on his lips. “Very well, then. If you wish us to leave, we will.”
Harlow nodded, flicking his wrist towards Damien as a gesture of his dismissal. “I look forward to when we meet again.”
Knox only had eyes for Luna. “Hopefully sooner rather than later, my princess . . . my dearest Luna.”
Luna curtsied and the two were all smiles as they transformed back into unicorns and turned away. She breathed a sigh of relief once Harlow and Knox had disappeared into the trees.
“So, just a thought,” Damien said, grabbing her attention. “Maybe we don’t volunteer our names to the enemy?”
“Hey! Who are you calling an enemy?” Knox called out from a distance.
Apparently, he wasn’t out of earshot yet.
Luna couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She spoke up before Damien could, “If you don’t want to be considered that, then do something about it.”
Luna heard Harlow laugh as Knox replied, “Now, where’s the fun in that?”
After several moments of silence, Damien returned to his human form, officially signalling they were finally out of danger.
Luna averted her eyes as he grabbed clothes out of Barley’s pack and got dressed.
“Don’t look around. You won’t like what you see,” Damien warned.
“I’ve used a lot of magic over the last few days so my shadows can only cover so much. ”
Luna nodded, keeping her gaze on her feet as they walked through the village with the two horses following behind.
Damien guided her around what she assumed was debris; she couldn’t tell with his shadows blanketing the ground.
After they had walked some distance, Damien cleared his throat and said, “We are on the run from the king’s men, but they aren’t the only evil out there.
Next time you come across demonic unicorns, maybe don’t be so polite?
By touching your hair, Knox could have done much worse than just end your life.
All he needs is a strand to make someone his puppet. ”
Luna shuddered at the thought. She didn’t even know it was possible to remove her free will. “Who were they? You seemed familiar with them.”
“They follow the Darkened One . . .” For a moment, Damien was quiet, like he was contemplating the rest of his answer. Then, he sighed and admitted, “But I knew them before they got entangled in that web. Believe it or not—they were decent men once upon a time.”
“Why did he call you a prince?”
“Because I am a prince.”
She stopped dead in her tracks. The weight of his words were like heavy blows to her chest. Harlow and Knox hadn’t treated him with any kind of respect, so she thought the royal title was given out of mockery. “You lied to me.”
He shrugged as if his title was as dull as discussing the weather. “I didn’t think it was important. It doesn’t change anything.”
More than a dozen questions flew through her head all at once, making it difficult to process a singular thought.
Why was the Prince of Shadows in Ghelvina?
He had a kingdom of followers; surely, he was needed elsewhere.
Why had he rescued her? Was she actually safe with him?
“It absolutely does. Had I known you were a prince—”
“It doesn’t have to change anything. I’m still me.”
She stared at him, at the tight lines wrinkling his forehead. Slowly, she reached up, her fingertips gliding over those creases.
His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into her touch. Just like that, the tension carving his features softened . . . if only slightly.
“Just Damien,” he whispered as if the title itself was a weight pressing down on him.
She understood. More than anyone, she knew what it meant to long for something as simple, as impossible, as normalcy.
And so, she stilled the questions wildly whirling in her mind. “Okay.”
“Thank you,.” His shoulders relaxed and he opened his eyes.
A small smile curled at her lips. He had done so much for her—treating him like she would anyone else seemed like the least she could do. Besides, they weren’t in his territory; him being a prince didn’t truly matter right now.
The further they walked down the rough dirt path of the village, the more the air itself seemed to scream with the cries of the dead.
Though she couldn’t see the villagers’ bodies, she felt them.
Death’s hold grabbed at her as if she were willing to join them, and flashes of the ballroom played out in front of her.
Everywhere she looked, there were red cloaks.
Red blood. So much red. Too much red. Venita’s beautiful frame stood among the chaos, her beautiful hair cascading in waves down her back.
Her smile so pure and innocent. But her eyes were dead.
Sunken in.
Soulless.
A reminder that she was gone. That death was careless with whom it consumed, and none were safe from its permanent hold.
Luna moved closer to Damien and instinctually reached for his arm, drawing him close, clutching him to her chest like a safety blanket. He glanced down, and the shadows around them darkened. “We need supplies . . . then we’ll leave.”
She nodded, fully understanding what he was saying. They were going to take from the dead; they needed to. A pit formed in her stomach, sinking like a rock. It was wrong to steal from the living, but from the dead was even worse.
They stopped in front of a building with its walls bending inwards, on the verge of collapse.
A wooden sign sat beside a set of makeshift stairs with the words ‘Dante’s Shop’ carved into it.
Before Damien led her inside, he slung the reins of the horses around a low-hanging branch of a tree, securing them to the spot.
Food and hunting supplies were scattered on the floor of one side of the room, and various travelling gear on the other. Whoever Dante was, he’d cared for the shop like a child; neatness and order hidden underneath hapless pillaging.
Damien picked up a small knife from one of the tables and stuck it in his belt. “Why don’t you pick out some clothes and boots that actually fit.”
She nodded again as Damien’s shadows gathered mainly around the register, not so subtly hiding the evidence of murder. Not wanting to be here a second longer than necessary, she didn’t argue with Damien and went over to the clothes.
She grabbed a bag off the shelf and stuffed the first things that came to mind into it. The fabrics were pitted and felt rough against her hand, unlike the wares she was accustomed to in the palace. Not that she was going to complain. She was alive and free, unlike the residents of Hazelwood.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a necklace hung on a nail in the wall.
It was a black braided rope that had a pendant shaped like a vine on it.
It was similar to the vine shape of her mother’s ring but not exact.
The brass leaves of the necklace were thin and long, and each wrapped around one another in a spiral.
Damien popped up beside her with an armful of goods held against his chest. “These look about your size,” he said, then passed her a pair of tall black leather boots. Luna slipped off her shoes and slid on the boots; they fit well enough.
He looked at the necklace she had been admiring. “Humans typically make necklaces from unicorn hair,” he explained as he lifted it off the nail. “They believe the remnants of the unicorn’s magic will bless the wearer with good fortune.”
“Do you think this one is made from a unicorn?”
“I don’t believe so.” Softly, he spun her around and placed the necklace over her head, settling it around her neck. The warmth of his breath brushed softly across her bare skin, sending a delicate shiver through her entire body.
When he finished, Luna touched the pendant with her hand.
It was gorgeous but also unnecessary for this new chapter of her life; she no longer needed pretty things.
No. She needed useful items, like well-fitting boots.
She tried to remove the necklace, but Damien grabbed her hand, shoving it gently to her side.
“Keep it. It looks nice on you.” He then grabbed her bag and stuffed his things inside too.
Before they left, Damien withdrew a few coins from his pocket and placed them on the counter.
A pointless gesture, considering everyone here was dead, but one Luna appreciated nonetheless.