Page 9 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

Fur brushed against her fingertips.

Mal glanced down. A panther prowled towards the queen, its body dark as the void, its form shifting like living smoke.

A shadow.

Every royal child was given one—a beast born from nightmares and midnight, bound to protect them, to fight for them, to guide them into the Forest of Silent Cries when death finally came. They appeared at birth, emerging from the darkness like specters summoned from the underworld.

Mal had never been given one.

No creature had risen from the Forest of Silent Cries to claim her, no phantom had ever whispered her name, pledging itself to her cause.

Another reminder of how she did not belong.

She had felt the weight of her parents’ unspoken sorrow when she was younger—the pity in their eyes when she had been left behind while her siblings played with the creatures that were their lifelong companions.

Mal had envied them. Deeply.

She had ignored the shadows ever since.

‘Mal, what’s wrong?’

Her mother’s voice was gentle. Knowing.

‘Where’s father?’

‘With your brother Kage, looking over maps,’ the queen answered. ‘Why?’

Mal did not answer. She merely lifted her gaze to the blue flame burning in the hearth, watching the panther curl itself beside it, its molten eyes locked onto her own.

How she longed to kneel beside it. To feel its darkness wrap around her, to let it pull her into the void where she could finally, finally disappear.

Instead, she turned away, stepping towards the ledge of the open window. Below her, the abyss yawned wide, stretching into eternity.

A fall from such heights would be death to any other.

But wyverians did not fear the fall, not when they possessed wyverns that would keep them from falling.

No, Mal feared a many number of things, but falling was not one of them.

The great doors of the main hall groaned open, their weight echoing through the cavernous chamber like the sigh of an ancient beast.

King Ozul entered first, his shadow-hounds rushing ahead, their spectral forms weaving through the air like liquid smoke. They sniffed at the air, at the walls, at the souls within, their glowing eyes sweeping the room as though they could pierce through bone and blood to taste the secrets hidden beneath.

Kage followed seconds later, his movements deliberate, his expression carved from quiet irritation. It was no secret he resented being pulled from the sanctuary of his books—the thirdborn had always been the scholar, the dreamer, the one whose hands were better suited to the spine of a tome than thehilt of a sword. He was slender where their father was broad, poised where their brother was tempestuous, and his gaze—dark, sharp, unfathomable—belonged to their mother entirely.

The queen's favorite.

None would dare utter it aloud, and yet it was written in the soft curve of her lips whenever she looked upon him, in the quiet reverence of their walks together, in the way she sat perfectly still when he played the violin, as though his music had the power to tether her soul to this world. Mal had spent years pretending not to notice, years looking away whenever their laughter trailed down the halls, the sound light, effortless, like the wind stirring the dead leaves in the gardens.

She had learnt long ago that envy was a silent, creeping thing.

The king strode towards the great stone dining table, his steps measured, his presence that of a mountain—unshaken, immovable. He whistled once, low and commanding, and his hounds followed obediently, settling at his feet like shadows given form.

He sighed as he sat, the weight of the world carved into the lines of his face.

Mal studied him closely, noting the strands of silver that now wove through his black hair, the weary way his shoulders slumped—a king who had known love but not war, who had built his rule upon the loyalty of his people rather than the fear of his enemies. He was still as formidable as he had been in his youth, and yet Mal could see it—the passage of time, slow and relentless, catching up with him at last.

She knew the way the maids stole glances at him as he passed, the admiration that shone in their eyes. And she understood. It was not just his strength, nor his handsomeness, nor even the crown upon his head that made him revered. It wasthe way he ruled, the way he loved, the way he carried the burdens of his kingdom without complaint.

---