Page 6 of Song of the Shadow Prince
Suddenly, arms wrapped around my waist from behind and lifted me off the ground. I kicked and twisted, my feet slipping on the wet deck as I struggled to break free. The smell of damp cloth and unwashed bodies filled my nose, making me gag. I craned my neck and bit down hard on the arm holding me, tasting the bitter tang of skin and sweat.
The man yelped and dropped me, and I landed awkwardly. My ankle twisted and I bit back a cry, forcing myself to stand. The rain was relentless, each drop a cold needle against my skin. My breath came in ragged gasps, mixing with the roar of the storm.
My attackers regrouped and circled me like wolves. The deck swayed beneath us and I felt the river's current tugging at theboat, a reminder of the danger swirling below. I couldn't give up now. I had to fight, had to survive. I didn’t know what these people wanted or why they had abducted me, but I wouldn’t make it easy for them.
The tall man came forward again and chuckled. “Who knew Lady Arya could fight? You’ve been keeping it a secret.”
I frowned and tilted my head, not understanding his words.
The tall man advanced again, his movements deliberate and controlled despite the chaos churning around us. His eyes locked onto mine with a predatory focus, the flicker of lightning revealing the determination etched into his features. He was beautiful. Midnight black hair matched flashing dark eyes, and those eyes seemed to pierce my soul. I was frozen for a split second until I snapped out of the daze. I clenched my fists, the ache in my twisted ankle a dull throb that I forced to the back of my mind.
He swung his fist, aiming for my head. I ducked, feeling the rush of air as his punch sailed past my ear. Using the momentum, I spun and delivered a swift kick to his side, the impact making a solid thud against his ribs. He barely flinched, his body absorbing the blow with a grunt.
Before I could react, his other hand shot out and grabbed my wrist in a grip as unyielding as iron. He yanked me towards him and I stumbled, the slick deck making it hard to keep my footing. His fist connected with my stomach, and all the air rushed out of my lungs in a painful gasp. I doubled over and clutched my abdomen as nausea rolled through me.
“No!” Maeve screamed. “Don’t hurt her!”
He didn't give me a chance to recover. His knee came up, slamming into my chest and sending me sprawling onto the deck. The world spun as the rain pelted down mercilessly, each drop a stinging reminder of my helplessness. I tried to pushmyself up, but he was already on me, his weight pinning me down.
I struggled, my hands slipping on the wet wood, but he was relentless. His hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to cut off my air supply but not enough to make me black out. The pressure was agonizing, and my eyes narrowed as black dots crept along the edges of my vision. I clawed at his arm, my nails digging into his skin.
He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear even in the cold rain. “Stay down, little liar,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You're only making this harder for yourself.”
I tried to respond, but my words were choked off as my lungs burned for air. Desperation fueled me and I lashed out with my free hand, aiming for his eyes. He anticipated the move, catching my wrist and slamming it down against the deck with bone-jarring force.
Stars exploded behind my eyes and pain radiated up my arm. My strength was waning, each breath a struggle against the iron grip on my throat. He shifted his weight and pressed down harder, and darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.
My body thrashed in one last effort to break free, but it was futile. The tall man's face was the last thing I saw as consciousness slipped away, his eyes cold and unyielding. The sound of rain faded, replaced by deafening silence as the world went black.
3
DAMIEN
“You were too harsh on her,” Gianna whispered as we entered the Ryder residence. Their servants carried Arya into the house, her limp form a stark contrast to the cozy, late-night stillness that enveloped the home. The entrance hall was warmly lit by wall sconces, casting a gentle glow on the cream-colored walls adorned with tasteful paintings of serene landscapes and still-life scenes. Much of the art had been painted by Arya herself.
The soft murmur of conversation from the servants and the muted clink of their footsteps on the polished wooden floor whispered in the air.
“She’s still a lady; you must treat her as one,” Gianna admonished, her voice soft but insistent.
I spun on my heels to face her, my frustration bubbling over. “Is that what you think?” I raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with her honey-brown gaze.
Gianna was undeniably beautiful, with plump, rosy lips and golden skin that glowed even in the dim light. Long, dark wavy hair cascaded down her back, showcasing a slim figure many young women in Elaria wished for. Yet, her personality waspainfully bland, a stark contrast to her striking appearance. Boring, yes, but also safe. And right now, safety was what I needed.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she murmured shyly; her voice was barely audible over the creak of the polished wooden floors beneath our feet.
I scoffed and rolled my eyes as I looked away. “That would have beenyouat the bottom of River Elara if Arya had gotten her way, but she didn’t. Her plan backfired, andsheended up going overboard instead. Why must you defend a sister who is so cruel to you?”
“Damien...” she whispered, her voice trembling. “She’s young... she doesn’t know better—”
“She looks down on you,” I cut her off, my voice harsh. “She thinks because you’re the daughter of a servant, you’re lower than she is only because her mother is your father’s legitimate wife.”
Gianna gulped and dropped her eyes to the intricate patterns on the rug that lined the hallway. “Is she wrong?” She paused, her voice a mere breath. “I am a bastard. Everyone knows it.”
“It doesn’t give her the right to treat you that way!” I shouted, the echo of my voice bouncing off the high ceilings. “Stand up for yourself, Gianna! Don’t sit around and take it all the time!”
She clasped her hands together and gazed down at her feet. “I know,” she finally said, the words almost lost in the vastness of the hall. “But you still shouldn’t have fought with her. Arya doesn’t know how to fight. She’s been sheltered all her life and we’re only human, whereas you—”
I threw my head back and laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the ornate space. “Did it look as if she didn’t know how to fight? Because correct me if I’m wrong, Gianna, but it looked like Arya was holding her own against us all. If I hadn’t used my strength, she might have subdued us all.”
