Page 21 of Shadow and Smite

“What do you mean?”

“Shades are drawn to the strongest magic. That was supposed to be me. Yet in the Underworld, you shone like a star. How are you so powerful?”

“Me? Not possible. I’m no one. I’ve never had magic. For Teyr’s sake, I’m half human. My magic is definitely not outshining yours.”

“You arenota nobody. Nobodies don’t go into hiding while crossing the Rift. They can’t fight like you. Nobodies don’t have people waiting for them in Port Saundyrs.”

I huffed. All my life I’d wanted to be someone, and now, I couldn’t imagine being anyone. I clenched my fist. “Maybe it’s the ring.”

He stood, closing the space between us. “Stop deflecting and tell me the truth. Who are you?”

For the first time, I felt threatened by him. My heart pounded. He had me cornered, and I was on his boat. His ashflower controlled my future.

Grasping what power I had left, I threw my shoulders back. “I’m Ayla, firstborn daughter of Queen Aveline of Valterra, third of her name. I am the scorn of King Consort Grayson. I have been given no surname, nor title, nor inheritance. I am best known as the bastard princess.”

His lips twisted in recognition. “I have heard of you. Part-fae, red hair—”

I didn’t let him finish. Grabbing my armor, I rushed for the door. “I really do have a friend waiting for me in Port Saundyrs, so I’m going to step outside and inform Vanessa that the port will be our next destination.”

I slammed the door closed behind me, clenching my throat to hold in a sob.

Zayne was a miserable princeling. To think he could turn my Brand into his compass. I couldn’t believe I’d felt sorry for him, that I’d allowed his touch to run so thoroughly in my body.

No matter. I gathered my anger, twisting it with betrayal. I used the power to bury my attraction to Zaynedeep, deep, deepinto my heart, a heart already turned to coal.

9 | Becoming Stone

Zayne

Ayla slammed the door shut. That hadn’t gone well. It couldn’t possibly have gone well.

An exiled prince and a bastard princess. What a pair we made. Placed within courts and intrigue, we were tools to be used and then forgotten.

I should have recognized her, realized who she was. I had been so distracted with my plans I hadn’t noticed the importance of someone right before me.

That flush of receptive warmth she’d shown while I healed the Brand, it was the most she would ever give me. It was the most I could afford to feel for her. To finish my quest, I had to become a prince of stone.

While healing her, I had struggled to hold back. My palm over her heart, I longed to give her release. The way she’d responded to me, my touch…

If she were only a female, and I were only a male. If only the Shadow Court were secure. But we weren’t. And my court wasn’t.

The fate of the Isles was at stake.

Or so I believed.

Eleanor and I had journeyed to the Shadow Court because we believed we could make things better. We believed that if she claimed the throne, she could change the tide. With the powers of the Shadow Throne, she could shift Gloom. She could face Inarus and end his nightmare of Shades.

It was a claim the other courtiers doubted. Nobody had seen Inarus since the Collapse, and only a few witnesses lived to say how the event had started. Most denied claims that the Shades were undead, since that meant accepting necromancy was real.

Most assumed that the Collapse had simply ruined the Isle of Shadow—those who visited never returned—and that was the end of public interest.

Yet Eleanor was certain the throne waited for her. She said she could feel it, the heart of the Shadow Court, asking her to return home. She was determined.

And so, because my twin believed she could make this right, because I trusted and supported her—we had journeyed alone.

How did I explain that to my unexpected guest? That I was risking my life because of my sister’s hunch? This was my duty, but Ayla’s life was tangled in it.

A true prince of stone wouldn’t have told her about the ashflower. They would have sent her away, let her prepare herself to become a Shade. My heart wasn’t hard enough. There were cracks and soft spots.

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