Page 121 of Shadow Kissed

Spectators fill the square. Residents of the neighbouring town are given the day off and invited to watch the ceremony. The Asen and the Shadow Borne Army sit in row after row along the left-hand side of the platform. The master of ceremony takes to the stage as we wait along the sidelines. He is a small, portly man with a large round belly and rosy-red cheeks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Asen and Shadow Borne, we are gathered here today to complete the reaping ceremony. Today, twenty-five females chosen by the gods themselves will offer themselves to us and gift us with the continuing survival of our race. In exchange, we will continue to protect your towns and villages for the next twenty-five years. We have lived in peace and harmony as allies through the forging of this agreement and its tradition.” He pauses and looks to where we wait. “I’d now like to invite the ladies who ranked in the top five of their studies to come onto the podium, and we’ll begin the selection.”

The crowd break into a round of applause and cheers and Moryen ushers us out onto the stage. Shalia leads, followed by Melara, then Tyria, with me and Eilana last. I anxiously scan the sizeable crowd assembled before us, all of them with their eyes on us. I feel at my sleeve and ensure the stake is resting on my palm, ready for me to grab it and make my attack. I’m shaking. Am I truly capable of going through with this? Can I take the life of a man I’ve never met? Can I look him in the eye as I drive a stake through his heart?

“Please welcome our most esteemed guest to the reaping. The royal prince and heir to the throne, Prince Dreyden Nightscar!” The master of ceremony drops into a deep bow, swinging his arm to where a tall male figure steps onto the stage. He’s wearing a navy velvet hooded cloak with his face concealed from sight. My first thought is at least with his hood up, I won’t have to make eye contact with him as I stab him.

Tyria nudges at me. “What’s with the hood? Maybe he’s hideously disfigured.” In normal circumstances, I would laugh at her jest, but all I can think of is this is the man I have to kill if I want to keep my brothers safe. I wriggle my wrist, and the stake drops into my hand. I curl my fingers around it, hiding my hand behind the skirt of my dress. They usher the prince towards where we wait in line and the crowd eagerly anticipates who hewill choose. He stops and looks down the line; the large hood hangs low and hides him from view completely. Maybe Tyria is right, and he covers his face because he is ugly or has some horrific scar. He pauses first at Shalia, not speaking or making any move to remove his hood. He then moves on and stops in front of Melara, and she smiles and curtsies. Tyria is next, and she curtsies and smiles up at him. This is it. I grip tightly at the stake. Preparing myself for what I must do. My heart hammers loudly in my chest. So loud I believe it must be audible to those around me. Then he is here, standing in front of me, and I freeze. I can feel the eyes of the girls on me as they wonder why I am not dropping into a curtsy. I watch as the prince reaches for his hood and pulls it off, and my entire world falls away.

“Hello, Terror.” He holds out his hand, his familiar silver eyes holding me captive, and he leans into my ear. “Now, are you going to stab me with that stake you have in your hand, or are you going to take my hand and be mine?”

I stare at him, lost for words and unable to move. My world crashes and burns around me.

“Raegal.”

How?

How is this possible?

Chaos descends. A series of explosions detonate. And the crowd screams and, in a panic, everyone attempts to flee, crashing into each other. The force of the blast throws us apart, sending me flying backwards until my back hits something solid, knocking the wind out of me and leaving me dazed. The stake falls from my hand and rolls along the floor. Masked men invade the platform, all of them armed with sunstone daggers and arrows, and I watch in horror as a rebel drives a stake into the heart of a Shadow Borne soldier. He staggers back and attempts to pull the stake from his body, falling to his knees and asking Arawn to save him. And then a bright light erupts from his chest,and screaming, he combusts into nothing but shadow dust. I stare in shock at the space where he was just standing.

“Colonel Graybane, you and your men get the spectators to safety. Jasiel, with me!” Raegal orders, as he releases his shadows and aims them at a rebel who is attempting to drive a stake into the back of a soldier he has pinned on the floor. His shadows race towards the attacker and he rips him in two like butter through a knife. His shadows split and I watch as they race after two rebels, and he rips the head off one and the other has a hole ripped through his chest and his lifeless body falls to the floor.

I stagger to my feet and search for the girls. Tyria is lying on the floor with blood dripping from her head. I rush to her side and call her name, but she’s unconscious. “Tyria. Gods, please be okay.” I rip a piece of the skirt off my dress to make a makeshift bandage and I press it to the wound to stem the bleeding.

“Reya,” she moans, her eyes briefly flickering open.

“I’m here. You’re okay.” I cradle her head in my lap and look helplessly around me. Saveya! She was at the side of the stage with Moryen and the other girls. In amongst the chaos of the crowd, I spot various lilac dresses, and I can only hope that Saveya is one of them and she is alive and okay.

“Grab her,” a voice says behind me. “The top man wants to see her.”

A hand grabs me by the hair and yanks me backwards, causing Tyria’s head to fall from my lap and bang against the floor.

“No!” I scream, “Let me go. Get off me.” I grab out behind me attempting to get his hands off me, but he gets an arm around my waist and, pulling me back against him, he places his other hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming and continues to drag me backwards away from the stage. I fix on Raegal and scream to him in my head and his eyes whip around, searchingfor me. When he sees me, his eyes turn black, and he drops the man he’s fighting with, sending him flying across the stage to land in a heap and he stalks towards me. I reach out a hand for him and I watch as his shadows race towards me. But before they can reach me, the man holding me captive laughs in my ear. “Your prince will not save you today, Princess Darkhand.” And I cry out as flames erupt from his body and whip around us until I can see nothing beyond the fire.

It couldn’t be.

How can he wield fire?

The roaring flames disperse, and I quickly scan my surroundings. A tall, blond-haired man, around six-foot-three with piercing, strange, amber coloured eyes stand before what I can only describe as a giant split in the atmosphere. The voices I have been hearing every night in my sleep come roaring to life only louder, and it’s as if they come from whatever is beyond the strange anomaly.

“Welcome, princess. We have been searching for you for such a long time,” the strange man says, stepping forward with a cunning smile on his face. He’s handsome, with his head shaven at the sides and his hair on top, long and braided to his shoulders.

“Who are you?” I ask, confused.

He grins and gestures for his man to release my arms from his tight hold. “My name is Calix Pyrebane, heir to the flame throne.”

I take in a sharp breath. It isn’t possible. There are no Flame Born on Asen.

“You lie.”

He bobs his head back and forth. “Do I though? I mean, if I wasn’t a flame blood how would I be able to do this?” He lifts his palm into the air and a ball of flames appears from nowhere.

“What do you want with me?” I ask him, my eyes scoping out a potential escape route.

He wags his finger at me and grins. “I wouldn’t try to escape if I were you. As for what I want from you, well, you asked to be rescued, did you not?”

My eyes flare in recognition. “You’re the rebel leader.”

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