Page 97 of The Shadow Prince's Ruin
She steps aside to avoid the puddle of wine, her lips in a tight line. “I hoped you could still make something of yourself and elevate our family, but if you don’t want to do this,” she shows me the dagger, “then you are proving yourself to be as useless as all of the Nocturne Court believes you to be.”
I let out a sad laugh, because what else is there to say in the face of such contempt? “I don’t care.”
“Have two months in the human realm ruined you so completely? You’ve lost all ambition.” Mother cocks her head at me, and I see it for what it is. Yet another tactic to guilt me into doing what she wants.
“My only ambition is saving Hawk. Once I succeed, my deal with Lord Kyran will stand, and you will bedeadto me.” I stare her down with the cold glare I learned from her. “No. You already are.”
She shakes her head but slides the dagger back into her corset. “I will bear another son. One who is worth something, and one day, you will regret what you’ve just done.”
“I will not. And your future child? You will crush them with your dark dreams just like you did all of us!”
Mother squints, but she’s turning away. “Of course a weakling would say that. You should be guided by the greater good, not just emotion—”
I see red. “Guess what?Angeris an emotion too, and you’re full of it. You stew in helpless fury, and I hope you drown in it. I will let my love for Hawk guide me instead. I am my own man, and will live by my own rules, not yours!”
She stares me down. “You’re biting your nails again. It’s unbecoming.”
“Leave!”
She doesn’t even look back. The bottom of her dress leaves a long red smear as it drags over the floor. She slams the door to my cell so hard I fear the tower will topple, but nothing else happens, and I’m left in such blissful silence I collapse into an armchair to enjoy it.
I had no idea how much I needed this. Our umbilical cord is finally cut.
Guided by a surge of unreleased tension, I walk out into the balcony and scream at the top of my lungs. I scream until I have no more breath, and only then do I fall into bed.
Sleep doesn’t come, because every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is Hawk, alone and convinced he’ll live out his days in the dungeon. I pass the hours by imagining his cocky smiles, and the warmth of his arms around me.
There’s a knock on the door I can’t open myself anyway, but it gives me a second to sit up. I spot the first rays of moonlight through the window as Tristan steps in. His temple is adorned by a purple bruise, and he squints his golden eyes at me.
“Hey, little shit. We’re going hunting. I need a new fur coat.”
Chapter 40
Sylvan
I’ve never shared my sibling’s love for the kelpies, but being back in the saddle, mounting the tall, powerful creature with seaweed in its mane makes me feel a bit more like my old self. I even got to change out of the rags I was wearing and into a fresh riding outfit that includes sleek gloves made of octopus leather, which will keep me from sticking to the beast if I accidentally touch it. In defiance of my mother, I opted for a fully black set, without the customary blue of the Goldweeds. My victory or defeat will not be in my family colors nor crest. My blood has forsaken me, and the only loyalty I owe is to my Companion. My Love. My Hawk.
The guards follow my every move, as if they expect me to take off at any moment, but I came here of my own free will and shall be the picture of dignity. Though my dealings with Lepearl and her crew of rowdy kelpies make the fact that I’m sitting on one’s back slightly awkward. How sentient is the creature under me exactly, if it’s been reared on land? I prefer to leave thatunanswered. All that matters is that Octo might be my one ally if the situation calls for a swift retreat with Hawk at the front of my saddle, so I made sure to feed him more sugar early that morning.
We left the castle at moonrise, bathed in the glow of green torches, and the journey has already taken over three hours. Nothing in comparison to what it would have been on foot, especially that we’re now traveling through the royal forest, taking main roads without fear, but I still feel disempowered by the length of our journey. We’ve left behind the River of Souls, but the faint echo of the wailing wretches is still carried by the breeze. It reminds me of the misery my life has been before I met Hawk.
Each moment away from him feels like hours, and I attempt to focus on the bond connecting us, just so I can feel that bit closer to him already. It’s faint, but I sense his heartbeat on my breastbone, as if we were resting chest to chest. It pains me to imagine him alone in the dark, limbs twitching as he fights the new nature invading his mind.
I can only hope we reach him before the change is irreversible.
Lord Kyran rides nearby, his expression pensive, and he’s lost in thoughts so I dare not speak to him without reason. As long as the Umlaris Band remains attached to his saddle, I won’t do anything that could make him change his mind about helping Hawk.
Resentment toward the Nightweeds has been instilled in me since the cradle. As the ruling family, they have access to a level of privilege my own blood does not, and for years I have accepted the lie that the Goldweeds deserved a chance to sit on the Nocturne Throne too. But as I sneak glances at Lord Kyran, taking in the smoky hair cascading down his back like a cape, the breastplate bearing the Nightweed crest, and his regal profile, I have to admit he is the right person to wear the crown. Even thefact that he gave me a chance to plead my case instead of striking me down the moment he saw me in his bedroom speaks a lot of his character. My brother wouldn’t have shown such mercy.
Flanking me from the other side is Prince Tristan Bloodweed. His long red hair is braided for battle, and his black armor with red accents—polished to perfection. Today, he’s not here as a member of the Nightcloaks, but the Lord’s entourage, as is custom whenever he is back at court. He hasn’t yet acknowledged the way I attacked him at the tavern, so I worry he might try and stand between me and Hawk when the time comes. For now, he jokes around as if he isn’t at all bothered by the callous way I butchered his wings, yet I have seen my share of betrayal growing up at the Nocturne Court and refuse to put my trust in words. I did wipe the floor with him at the Burning Corpse for all to see, so he might take his revenge if a chance for it presents itself. And if not, hopefully he can take joy in the fact that with Hawk’s shadow gone, I will never be able to best him again.
Dozens of guards and hunters surround us from all sides. They are like black wolves with their dark garments accented by glints of silver. These men and women are armed with several weapons each. Some are tall and in heavy armor, others only a little bigger than me and dressed in leather from head to toe. A medic travels in a small carriage at the very back, with their own escort.
In my mind, none of this is necessary. Once we arrive at the ruined castle, I will go to the dungeon, where I left Hawk. He will be still conscious thanks to the pool of cool water staving off the heat, and I will lock the Umlaris Band around his neck, making him go back to normal. I don’t love that doing so will tie us to the Nocturne Court permanently, but it’s not a magical bond, only a promise, and, as we have already established, my sense of honor has one allegiance—Hawk. If necessary, I’ll use the collar and attempt an escape.
“What I’m wondering,” Tristan starts what is surely another one of his quips, “is how you got a man with a shadow like that to bond with you in the first place?”
Here we go.
