Page 103 of The Shadow Prince's Ruin
I’m surrounded by Sylvan’s scent, but it’s not quite right. Coppery, sharp rather than warm, as if it were coming from the very center of him. The smoky aroma of his shadow is gone too.
I can hear his frantic heartbeat when I spot sapphire eyes watching me from an unnaturally pale face. Reality clashes into me with the force of a freight train, and I let go of the mess of meat and bone in my muzzle.
A horrified whine leaves my throat when everything falls into place. Then, a howl.
No. No. No. No.
Crying wordlessly, I crawl on top of him in an attempt to give him some of my warmth, because he’s shivering, and it’s all my fault.
When an arrow flies over my head, grazing my ear, I look up with a snarl, because it might have hit Sylvan, but I spot the knight struggling to get up. She’s screaming at me to get off“the prince”.
I’m so frantic about Sylvan’s state I can’t think straight, but I have to focus if he is to survive. All it takes to change back into a human is the desire to do so. The Sunwolf’s form around me sparkles with sunlight, blinding me for a moment, and then I’m kneeling at Sylvan’s side.
I’m covered in blood, and there’s so much of it I struggle to work out where he’s most injured. It only takes one look at his leg though to realize what I’ve done.
From the hip down, it’s bent out of shape, bone ripping through his pants in at least two places. I must have crushed it in my jaws.
Me. I did that. I hurt him in this unspeakable way.
I have no memory of doing it. I don’t even know how I got from the dungeon to this clearing in the forest, but I am soaked with his blood, and there’s no denying reality. I wail. Then sob. Then scream at the top of my lungs, but Sylvan’s no longer conscious, the beautiful eyes I’ve fallen in love with shut, his slender form broken.
I tear off my shirt and rise, wrapping it on his upper thigh in an improvised tourniquet, even though I’m not sure if I’m doing it correctly. Everything is a blur. He’s so fragile, so small, and already lost so much blood.
“What’s happening?” I yell to the knight who is crawling our way on all fours at the pace of a snail.
I hear hoofbeats and yelling. A whole group of people is approaching fast, and all I can think of is that maybe one of themwill be able to help Sylvan. My connection with him is fading, his heartbeat slows. It’s like a piece of gum being pulled on, and soon enough, it will become thin enough to break.
“Help! Help,” I call out at the top of my lungs as horse riders enter the clearing in armor polished to perfection. I tighten the knot around Sylvan’s leg and rise on my knees, waving to draw the attention of the knight riding at the front of the party. He’s tall, with skin that shines like the surface of a pearl, and a presence so regal I know he is important before he even speaks.
“Healer!” he demands, looking down at us from up on his unusually large and dark mount with a skull for a head. It only takes one glance to know this is not a horse at all, but a kelpie. The creature is dripping, as if it’s just ridden through a waterfall, but the man in its saddle remains dry.
Someone dashes through the ranks, followed by a small team in identical red coats. Despite begging for help, my first instinct is to growl as the elf squatting right next to Sylvan touches him without asking first, but then a smoky dome forms around my mate, and at once I feel his heart calm.
“Will he live?” the dark-haired elf on the kelpie asks.
The medic puts their hands through the barrier surrounding Sylvan and rests them on his chest. The elf seems young, but for all I know, they could have hundreds of years of experience, so I have to trust them no matter how much I want to hug Sylvan’s shattered body and protect him.
“I stopped the bleeding, but I cannot say for certain, Your Highness. He must be taken to the castle at once. His heart might not take it,” the medic finishes in a quiet tone.
I barely contain the sob rising in my chest, because this is not about me. I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve mutilated Sylvan. I have turned into a monster, just like I feared, and now he might loseeverything.
Why? Why has he come back when I told him to leave me behind? Or was it me who hunted him down? I have no idea how much time passed since we parted. What if it’s been years?
Prince Tristan, who’s still sporting a bruise on his face, jumps off his own kelpie. I’m a big guy, but Tristan is imposing in his armor, and he is headed straight for me.
“What did you do to him?” he roars as he pushes my shoulders so hard I fall over.
That’s when my self-control ends. Tears fall from my eyes as I howl, hiding my face in my palms. “I’m a dangerous monster. Please… please help him!”
I’m inconsolable, but the punches I most definitely deserve don’t come.
“Enough of this self-pity,” the dark-haired royal says, sliding from the back of his kelpie. He might be clad in full armor but walks as if it didn’t hinder his movements at all. “Time to take responsibility for your actions.”
I attempt to focus on his words, because I know he’s the one making all the decisions, but my attention still drifts to Sylvan, who’s being moved to a stretcher. When Tristan steps in to help, I initially want to stop him, since he might be inclined to exact his revenge when my husband is at his most vulnerable, but the red-haired knight picks him up with tenderness and familiarity.
The dignified elf pulls out a sword blacker than the sky and puts the very tip at my chin. I don’t even attempt to get up. “I am Kyran Nightweed, Lord of the Nocturne Court, and Protector of the Nightmare Realm. You are wearing the Sunwolf Crown, which belongs to my family. You will either pledge yourself into my service, as Prince Sylvan promised me you would, or you will die.” His eyes are so intense that I have no choice but to focus on him.
“B-but… I’m a danger,” I mutter before gesturing at my lover’s body as it’s transferred, along with the shadow dome. “I don’t remember hurting him. What if it happens again?”
