Page 7 of Song of the Shadow Prince
Gianna lowered her head and fell silent, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She knew I was right but couldn’t bring herself to admit it. There was a complex, twisted bond between her and Arya, a relationship mired in jealousy and resentment. Arya had tormented Gianna for years, taking every opportunity to belittle and harm her. And Gianna, ever the quiet one, endured it without a word of protest, fearing the wrath of her younger sister.
“You’ve made it home safely. I need to go.” I turned to leave, the heavy oak door looming ahead of me.
Her hand darted out and grabbed my arm, her touch soft but firm. “Stay,” she whispered, her voice pleading. “The storm is still raging outside. It’s best if you stay here for a while until it subsides.”
I paused, listening to rain battering against the windows and the distant rumble of thunder filling the silence. The warmth of her hand seeped through my sleeve, grounding me. I sighed and turned back to face her, the storm outside a stark contrast to the turmoil within these walls. With a resigned nod, I followed Gianna over to a seating area in the grand hall.
The room exuded warmth and elegance, with soft light from chandeliers casting a golden glow on the rich mahogany paneling and plush, deep red carpets. The smell of polished wood and faint lavender from the fresh flowers arranged on a nearby table saturated the air, creating a sense of serene comfort.
“Bring us some tea, please,” she ordered the servants, who immediately set to work. We sat on a pair of high-backed chairs upholstered in velvet, the cushions soft and inviting after the rough night.
“Would you like to freshen up? Perhaps some dry clothes—” Gianna offered, her voice gentle.
“I’m fine,” I interrupted curtly. “The tea will be sufficient.”
Gianna pressed her lips together and nodded, lowering her head. “I didn’t thank you for tonight,” she said shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “As you pointed out earlier, if it wasn’t for you, I would be at the bottom of River Elara.”
I locked my jaw. The thought of what could have happened made my blood boil. “Let’s not talk about that anymore.”
“But I must thank you, Damien. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how I felt… After so many years of us knowing each other, I want you to know—”
“Why?” I blurted out, looking directly at her. “Why do you care for me?”
Her honey-brown eyes widened in shock and her mouth slightly fell open. “Wh-What?”
“Why do you care for me?” I repeated, slower this time. “I’m only allowed on the mainland for twenty-four hours each month. We’ve hardly had time to get to know each other in the last ten years. We’ve seen each other for a total of a hundred and twenty days. Not even a full year. What could youpossiblylike about me?”
She swallowed deeply as a servant entered with a tray of tea; the tension in the room was palpable. The servant placed a silver tray on the table between us and poured rich, fragrant liquid into delicate teacups. Sensing the unease, the servant quickly retreated and closed the door quietly behind her. Gianna opened and closed her mouth repeatedly like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words.
Her voice trembled. “I—What kind of question is that, Damien?”
“A valid one, Gianna. You know who I am and what I am. I’m a disgraced prince, banished and exiled to an island since the moment I was born,” I gritted through clenched teeth. “If you’re looking for a leg up, you won’t get it with me.”
She shot to her feet, her hands held up in protest. “No! That’s not my intention!”
“Then what is?” I asked more softly, frustration lacing my words. I wanted to smack myself. This was the opposite of what Ishouldhave been doing. I should have been courting her and trying to make her fall in love with me, but here I was, pushing her away. She was my salvation, the key to my freedom, yet I was sabotaging my future. I didn’t know what was wrong with me tonight.
“I truly care for you, Damien. I know your situation, but I don’t care. You and I… we’re very similar in certain aspects. I guess… that’s why I’m attracted to you,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I do not care if we’re isolated on your island for the rest of our lives. As long as we’re together.”
I glared at her and tried to tamp down my mounting frustration. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. What I craved was freedom, not another prison. If she couldn’t give it to me, then there was nothing left for me here.
The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. The only sounds were the faint clink of the tea set and the distant rumble of the violent storm outside, a reminder of the turmoil raging inside and out. I took a deep breath, the scent of lavender and tea calming me slightly, but the knot in my chest remained. This wasn’t how I imagined it would be.
I leftthe Ryder residence in the midst of the storm as soon as my carriage arrived. The wind howled and rain battered the cobblestone streets, turning them into a slick, glistening mosaic. I didn’t want to stay a single moment longer with Gianna. I should have known this would be the outcome. I wanted out ofmy gilded cage, and she wanted to stay locked inside. It would never work between us. That much was certain. Unfortunately, I’d just wasted ten years on her, and now it felt like all that time had been for nothing.
“Where to, Your Highness?” the carriage driver asked, snapping the reins on the horses, their coats shimmering with wetness under the flickering glow of the streetlamps.
“My uncle’s residence,” I said from inside the carriage, my voice firm. “And hurry.”
“Aye.” He snapped the reins again, urging the horses into a swift trot.
I peered out the window of the carriage at the rain streaming down the glass in relentless sheets. Even under the deluge, the mainland was a sight to behold. The cityscape was a blend of old-world charm and modern elegance. Stately buildings lined the streets, their stone facades adorned with ivy. The soft glow of gas lamps cast a warm, golden hue on the wet streets, reflecting off the puddles and creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow.
The scent of rain-soaked land and the faint aroma of fresh bread from a late-night bakery mingled in the air, a comforting reminder of the mainland’s vibrancy. The streets were mostly deserted, with only a few hardy souls braving the storm, their cloaks pulled tight against the wind. The clatter of hooves on cobblestones was the dominant sound, punctuated by the occasional murmur of conversation from the rare passerby.
As we passed the marketplace, the usually bustling stalls were now closed and shuttered, their brightly colored awnings drooping under the weight of the rain. The rich, earthy scent of freshly turned soil from a nearby garden mingled with the sharp tang of spices from a closed spice shop, creating an intoxicating blend that spoke of the mainland’s diversity and vitality.
Further along, the grand mansions of the affluent Northern district loomed, their impressive facades glowing softly in the storm’s dim light. Manicured gardens, now soaked and glistening, stretched out before them, a testament to the wealth and status of their occupants. The carriages of other noble families occasionally passed by, their occupants peering out curiously, wondering who else dared to travel in such inclement weather.
