Page 10 of Curse of Darkness
I have to rescue May.
I can’t attack Hawthorne Castle. I don’t have the strength; I’m barely functioning myself—
And then it hits me.
The one person who might be able to get into Hawthorne Castle unscathed. He bragged about it after all.
I turn toward Eris. “Send for the Prince of Shadows.”
3
“You want me to dowhat?”
The Prince of Shadows kneels on one knee before the dais, looking as though his obeisance is a matter of choice and not merely respect. Theron’s long, silky-dark hair falls down his spine like a spill of black water, two thin strands gathered back from his face and braided at the back—just enough to keep it out of his face.
A hint of stubble roughens his jaw, and he wears a white silk shirt and tight leather breeches, with boots that hit his knees. Golden rings glitter on his fingers. A gleaming ruby is stabbed through his ear.
He’s the very picture of a rich, somewhat spoiled merchant prince.
But the black tattoos that crawl up his throat belong to no merchant, and for a second, a blood moon appears in the writhing mass of thorns and wolves, so that it almost looks like the wolves on his throat howl at it.
The blood moon is a mark of the assassin guild in the city.
The Prince of Shadows helped us once. For a price. But as I stare into Theron’s eyes, I realize I might be asking more than he will give.
Thiago held him in check, but I’m merely a grieving queen—and from the assassin’s point of view, probably a liability if he ties his fate to mine.
“I want you to steal inside Hawthorne Castle and rescue a little girl for me,” I repeat loudly and clearly, my spine straightening as I sit on the throne. It’s something Mother taught me.
It doesn’t matter if your heart is trembling or tears seek to overwhelm you. It doesn’t matter if there’s a knife to your throat, or one buried in your heart.
You don’t let your weaknesses show.
“A little girl?” Theron looks incredulous, pushing to his feet and taking a step toward me—a move which is abruptly aborted as Eris puts her sword to his throat.
“Go ahead,” she tells him, her spine and demeanor like the steel I so desperately need to emulate. “I would enjoy it.”
“And I would enjoy watching it,” Finn adds from where he stands at my side, one hand resting on the hilt of his own sword. The enormous hunter is usually quick with a smile, but there’s no hint of it now. His blue eyes are icier than I’ve ever seen them.
Eris’s antagonistic stance I can understand. Theron’s been flirting with her for years.
I’m not quite sure where Finn’s comes from.
Theron’s mouth twists, but he merely pushes the sword away from his carotid with a single finger and gracefully steps back before his attention returns to me. “For what reason? What is this child to you?”
Suddenly, there’s an ache stabbing behind my eyes. I choke it down ruthlessly. “I know your spies would have been among those who watched me set fire to my husband’s memorial pyre. I know you’re aware of my daughter’s presence.”
“I’m aware.” Theron purses his lips, his voice comes out gruffly. “And I’m sorry to hear of everything that happened in the past week. I know you loved him.”
I wave the words away. They will not touch me. So far, I’ve been managing to hold the crushing wave at bay. “My mother is unaware that Amaya is safely at my side. She thinks the child she is currently raising is mine. She calls her May, and May is a little girl who has found herself—through no fault of her own—on the wrong side of a war.” I meet his eyes. “If my mother realizes May is not my daughter, she may hurt the girl. I don’t want her to suffer for the consequences of my actions.”
Theron scrubs at his mouth. “I don’trescueprincesses. I… remove them. This is not within my area of expertise.”
“You once told me you could get inside any locked door in the south.”
He winces. “Technically, yes.”
“My mother has Hawthorne Castle locked up tighter than a vault. She will expect retaliation. She will have May hidden away so thoroughly that she probably can’t even see the sun. None of my people can rescue her. But you can. You will be aptly compensated—”
