Page 4 of Shadow and Smite

Not that there was anything to see. The Rift was invisible, a division in the middle of the Nearbright Sea.

Yet the ship steered into it, and from the mutterings of the magically inclined passengers, we were about to make our crossing.

Finally, I would live with magic.

Dozens of us, mostly merchants and their mercenaries, crowded above deck, armed and waiting for the crossing. The ship’s crew worked around us.

By providing extra security, our crossing fee was reduced. Truthfully, I didn’t need the coin, but I couldn’t imagine staying below deck, blind to the crossing.

I’d made my decision hours earlier, back when the day was clear, my mood bright, and Vila Port lively. Now this fog filled the horizon, a darkness swallowing the distance.

It was possible I’d made a mistake.

At first the company had been jovial. They were friendly to me, the “distant cousin” of a favored merchant. It was only when we neared the Rift, when the fog condensed, that the mood turned somber.

The others muttered. It was rarely foggy like this. As we approached the Rift, our jokes quieted, and we looked beyond, preparing for the possibility of Shades.

Don’t panic.That would be embarrassing. But I was still nervous. Steeling myself, I waited through another breath.

I had trained with soldiers since adolescence—sword, bow, and dagger. Mother hadn’t approved of my hobby, but she had eventually found a way to make it useful.

Despite my background, this fog was new. I’d been a fool to think this would be easy. Too many heroic daydreams perhaps, making me believe that I’d be impervious to pressure, that nerves wouldn’t make my knees wobble.

Deep down, I knew it wasn’t only the fog that kept me on edge. The fear that my magic wouldn’t manifest worried me too.

Fae magic rose from the Isles, and upon crossing the Rift, my magic should surface.

It was an exciting possibility. For so many years, I was a curiosity—the part-fae bastard of my mother. Nowhere to go, no way to fit in. I had nothing to become, so I became myself.

By day, I trained with soldiers. At night, I found fae fiddle bars and danced, learning the songs of my distant heritage. That same drive made me thirst for magic.

Magic was supposed to be impossible in Valterra. Some leaked over, particularly near the volcano Teyr. Yet even far from the volcano’s vents, my Firewolf made her strange appearances—a silent apparition that would warn me of danger.

In childhood, the Firewolf had saved me from Mariana’s cruel prank. Not long ago, she led me to Mariana’s room to find an assassin inside; she’d helped me save my sister’s life. I told nobody of the visions. If Mariana had seen the Firewolf, we hadn’t spoken of it.

I stretched out my fingers and considered the ruby ring I’d stolen from my mother. I suspected it linked to my Firewolf, and I hoped it would lead me to her.

The chit-chat of my companions stopped. In the lull, the pounding of my heart seemed louder. Discomfort growing, I reached into a pocket of my leather armor.

My body relaxed as I touched the handkerchief, my finger brushing the silky surface.

I had already traced the stitching several times, becoming familiar with its intricate details. The sewing was perfect—not a stitch out of place, the texture soothing. If holding it helped me to stay calm…

Maybe it really was enchanted for protection.

That wasn’t a complete fantasy. If this was a gift from the exiled Prince of the Shadow Court, it could be stitched with special magic. It didn’t hurt to hope.

He’d been bold and haughty, everything I expected from courtiers—both faeandhuman. He had those long, pointed horns, darkened with shadow. I was becoming convinced it had been him, not a deception.

Too bad we’d met on a night when I preferred to hide. It would have been fun to flirt with a princeling, to kiss someone so handsome. How would his lips feel? Would the kisses be hard and furious—

“Fifteen minutes until crossing!” the captain shouted. “Prepare yourselves.”

The crowd stirred as I blinked my way back to reality. When I opened my eyes, he was there.

Him.The prince. He washere.Not a daydream.

I shoved the handkerchief back into my pocket. A blush crept up my neck, and I swallowed it back down.

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