Page 27 of Song of the Shadow Prince
“Very well,” Garrick said. “I’ll help you.”
“Thank you!” I sighed with relief and tried to ignore Maeve’s questionable look.
“How do I get in touch with you? In my current predicament, it would be unwise to walk up to the doors of the Ryder residence and demand to see you.” Garrick waved to himself and his attire to prove his point.
“Right,” I mused, then looked over at Maeve. “Any ideas?”
She furrowed her brows. “Well… we can send messages by raven,” she reluctantly offered. “I’ll have one sent to your… residence.” She glanced at Garrick with pursed lips.
“My residence in the Southern District, please and thank you.” He winked at her, which made her scowl.
“Well, it’s probably time to get out of here.” I stood and dusted the wrinkles and debris from my dress and cloak. “It’s been a real pleasure, Garrick. I hope to hear from you soon.”
“The pleasure is all mine, my lady.”
9
DAMIEN
Ireceived Thorne’s message late in the evening. The raven arrived under a cloak of shadows so it wouldn’t be seen by my father’s guards, who vigilantly patrolled the island. I was only allowed to leave Obsidian Reach one twenty-four-hour period on the third Sunday of every month to gather whatever supplies or food I may need. Normally Uncle Bai handled that for me while I did other things, but ever since I retrieved my dragon bones and could shift, I’ve used them to sneak off the island without being seen.
At night, under the cover of darkness, no one could see a black dragon flying across the sky. It was why many on the mainland called me the Shadow Prince.
The Gilded Serpent was an opulent, multi-storied building with intricate carvings of serpents winding around its pillars and doorframes. The warm glow from lanterns and candles spilled through the brothel’s windows, casting golden light on the cobblestone street outside. The entrance was flanked by two enormous brass snake statues, their eyes glinting menacingly in the light.
Inside, the air was redolent with the scent of exotic spices, wine, and perfume. Sumptuous tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of indulgence and revelry. Plush cushions and low tables filled the main hall, where patrons lounged and enjoyed the company of the brothel’s women.
The women of the Gilded Serpent were renowned for their beauty and allure. Surveying the room, I watched them move gracefully among the guests. One woman with flowing auburn hair and a mischievous smile whispered something into a nobleman’s ear, making him laugh heartily. Another with striking blue eyes and long, raven-black hair was pouring wine for a group of merchants, her every movement deliberate and seductive.
I made my way through the bustling first floor of the Gilded Serpent, surrounded by the low hum of conversations, the soft strumming of a lute, and the occasional burst of laughter. Flickering candlelight illuminated the rich tapestries and plush cushions that adorned the main hall.
Navigating through the dense throng of patrons and women, I climbed the grand staircase that led to the second floor. The steps were made of dark, polished wood that creaked underfoot, and the banister was intricately carved with serpentine patterns. As I ascended, the noise from below faded, replaced by a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.
The second floor was more subdued, with fewer people and a more refined ambiance. The hallway was lined with closed doors, each leading to private rooms reserved for patrons who sought discretion. Ornate sconces were placed along the walls to chase away the shadows, and earthy, spicy incense wafted through the air with each step.
I reached the door to the private room I’d reserved and slipped inside, shutting the door behind me with a gentle click. The room was luxurious, with thick, golden drapes hanging fromthe windows and walls paneled with dark wood. A large, plush rug covered the floor, and a low table was set with a selection of fine wines and fruits.
I removed the hood of my cloak and untied it, then draped it over one of the lounge chairs that flanked the room. The chairs were upholstered in opulent fabric, their cushions soft and inviting. I sat down and sank into the comfortable seat and surveyed the room.
In one corner, a girl played a soft melody on her lute. Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders as her delicate fingers lightly danced over the strings. Her eyes were downcast, focused on her instrument, and the music she produced was both haunting and soothing.
In the center of the room, another girl danced, her sheer garments clinging to her curves and leaving little to the imagination. Her movements were fluid and graceful, her eyes meeting mine with a playful glint as she swayed to the lute’s seductive rhythm. The dim light accentuated the contours of her figure, creating an atmosphere of intimate allure.
Just as I was making myself comfortable, the door swung open and a cloaked figure walked in. A wry grin was revealed the instant he removed his hood. “Brother!” he greeted.
Prince Thorne cut a striking figure. He was tall and lean, with an athletic build that spoke of years of rigorous training. His dark hair, which he usually kept immaculately groomed, was slightly disheveled from his journey, lending a roguish charm. He wore a dark, travel-worn cloak over a finely tailored tunic and breeches, both of which bore subtle signs of wear. His boots, caked with mud from the road, were sturdy and practical, designed for long journeys. Despite his slightly rumpled appearance, an air of nobility clung to him, a confidence that came from knowing he could handle whatever the world threw at him as the Crown Prince.
His sharp, piercing blue eyes quickly scanned the room before returning to me with a familiar intensity in his gaze. Thorne moved with the quiet grace of a predator, each step deliberate and controlled. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the faint noise from downstairs, and approached with a nod of acknowledgment as he sat opposite me.
“Brother,” I repeated by way of greeting. “What has you pulling me out of seclusion?” I asked with a raised brow.
He snorted. “As if you don’t sneak out on your own already,” he chided. Glancing at the dancing girl, his eyes appreciatively roved her exposed body.
I poured myself some wine. “That might be so, but I try not to make it a regular thing.”
Although Thorne was my older brother, I only met him forty years earlier. He’d sent a message through Uncle Bai, expressing his interest to meet and get to know one another. None of my other siblings had ever bothered to do so. I was skeptical at the time, especially since Thorne was the first prince, the Crown Prince, the heir apparent, the next in line for the throne. What could he possibly want withme, the one who killed his mother? But there was no bad blood between us. According to Uncle Bai, he’d frequently asked about me over the years and had been waiting for the perfect time to approach.
Thorne relaxed into the chair, the soft cushions barely making a sound under his weight. His eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and concern as he turned his attention back to me. “There’s a disturbance in the valley,” he began, his tone growing serious. “Something big is happening, and it could affect us all.”
