Page 17 of Song of the Shadow Prince
“Stop causing so much trouble, Arya,” I said coldly as I snatched a blanket from Maeve and threw it at Arya. Her silk dress was plastered to her skin and her pert nipples were visible through her clothes. I averted my gaze and cleared my throat.
“Right… It seems I do that a lot,” she murmured.
“Maeve,” I called out to the servant. “What you saw today…” I pointed to the sky and her eyes widened.
She waved her hands. “I promise, Your Highness. I won’t tell a soul.”
I nodded. I didn’t know why, but I trusted the little servant girl. She’d always been supremely loyal to Arya, almost to her detriment.
“In return, I’ll keepthisincident a secret.” I turned my attention back to Arya. “I’m sure Lord Zacharia wouldn’t like to hear that his second daughter, hisfavoritedaughter, keeps trying to throw herself into the river to drown.”
Arya scoffed and stood on wobbly legs. “Thank you, uhh… sister’s boyfriend. Sorry, can’t remember your name.”
I followed suit, not bothering to correct her. Not many bothered to address me according to my title, anyway. I didn’t garner the same respect my brothers and sisters did.
Maeve nudged her. “My lady, he’s the third prince!” she whispered harshly. “You must address him as ‘Your Highness’.”
Arya frowned as she peered up at me, looked me up and down from head to toe and then snorted. “Oh, he is. My bad.” She offered a clumsy curtsey. “Your Highness.”
I choked and tried to cover it up with a cough as her servant slapped a hand on the back of Arya’s head and forcibly pushed her down to bow.
“Ouch!” Arya shrieked, then straightened and shrugged away Maeve’s hand. “You could have justtoldme,” she snarled.
“Apologies, Your Highness,” Maeve offered, then motioned to her head. “She’s not well.”
“I can tell,” I mumbled more to myself than anything.
Since her first tumble into the river, Arya hadn’t been herself, but I didn’t have the energy to figure out this mystery. I had enough on my plate to deal with. It was best if I stayed out of Ryder business,especiallysince I cut ties with Gianna earlier that morning. It was the reason I was close enough to her residence to notice Arya and Maeve on the river. Gianna wasn’t happy about my decision, but it had to be done. It was best for both of us.
After rowing back to shore,I parted ways with Arya and her servant. The late afternoon sun started to dip toward the horizon, stretching long, shadowy fingers across the landscape. I took to the skies and shifted into my dragon form under the cover of clouds, setting my course for Obsidian Reach, the island that had been my prison and home since birth.
During the transformation, my body elongated and expanded and scales shimmered across my skin. My wings unfolded, vast and black as midnight, their membranes catching the wind with powerful, rhythmic beats. The world below quickly shrank as I ascended, the rooftops of the Northern District becoming mere specks. The wind roared past my ears, a song of freedom and isolation.
The vast tapestry of the land unfurled beneath me as I soared over Elaria. The Northern District’s grand homes for the elite gave way to the stone buildings and bustling markets of the Southern District. Beyond that, the dense forests and winding rivers, their water glistening like silver threads in the sunlight, sprawled across the landscape. The air up this high was fresh,tinged with the scent of pine and earth, a stark contrast to the smoky, sulfurous air of my destination.
Obsidian Reach loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the evening sky. The island was dominated by a massive dormant volcano, its jagged peak piercing the clouds. I carefully descended, flying low to avoid the patrols my father had stationed around the island. The guards were vigilant, their eyes scanning the skies, but I was a master of stealth and slipped past them with practiced ease.
As I neared the volcano, its crater yawned open like the mouth of some ancient beast. I dove into the chasm and the temperature rapidly rose as daylight vanished. The walls of the crater were lined with dark, volcanic rock, their surfaces jagged and sharp. The faint glow of molten lava flickered in the depths, casting an eerie, red light on the stone.
I landed at the bottom of the volcano where the ground was a solidified sea of black lava from centuries past. The air reeked of sulfur and ash, the remnants of long-extinguished fires. The grand hall loomed before me, a space both imposing and familiar, the dark stone absorbing the flickering light from the lava below to create an atmosphere of warmth and shadow. Carved into the rock, the hall was an impressive feat of architecture, its high ceilings supported by pillars of basalt. The air inside the volcano was heavy with the scent of charred rock and the faint, metallic tang of ancient lava. The walls were adorned with banners and tapestries depicting the history of our Drakonar clan, scenes of dragons and battles woven into the fabric. The furnishings were sparse but elegant, carved from the same dark stone as the walls, their surfaces polished to a high sheen.
Uncle Bai was waiting for me. He lounged on one of the chairs with a book in his hand, his silver hair catching the dimlight. His eyes, sharp and wise, watched me as I shifted back into my human form.
“Damien,” he called out, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “What took you so long? You were expected back over an hour ago.”
“There was… an inconvenience,” I said cryptically, brushing off the dust and remnants of my transformation.
Uncle Bai nodded thoughtfully, then closed his book with a soft thud. “I assume things have been wrapped up with Lady Gianna?” he asked, his tone calm but expectant.
“I saw her this morning and broke things off,” I replied, my mind still reeling with thoughts of Arya and the strange events of the day. My footsteps echoed softly as I walked further into the hall, a reminder of the vast emptiness of this place. It was home but it was also a prison, its isolation as much a part of me as my reclaimed dragon form.
“Good. She wasn’t the one.”
I sighed and dropped onto an empty lounge chair, throwing my head back. “Then who is, Uncle? I’m tired of waiting. It’s been seventy-fivelongyears.”
Uncle Bai grunted. “You’re still a pup. And the mark only appeared fifty-five years ago,” he chuckled. “Wait until you’remyage.”
“I thank the immortals I’m not your age and in my current predicament, because if I had to wait almost a thousand years for a woman, I would’ve offed myself by now,” I deadpanned.
