Page 21 of The Shadow Prince's Ruin
Hawk stalls, and while I can’t see his expression behind the mask and shades, he seems somewhat deflated. “Well, you have no crown, and doesn’t every royal need one?”
“I have a crown. Back home. I chose not to take it so it’s safe.”
It’s like he’s pointing out that I have nothing. I put my foot on the bottom shelf and use it for leverage to climb toward the top shelf where I can already see the massive jar of my favorite pretzels.
The edge I’m holding on to digs into the flesh of my fingers, but then two strong hands close on my waist and lift me, so I’m level with the familiar packaging.
“Hey!” I yelp in panic, feeling like a child’s toy in his grip. I grab the pretzels anyway since Iamalready up here. “I was managing!” I mumble when he casually puts me down.
“You might have slipped.”
“Then I would have suffered the consequences of my own actions, as is appropriate.” I glance to the side and, of course, the cashier is snooping on us. “Are you trying to humiliate me?”
“Why are you upset?”
The fact that I can’t see much of his face only frustrates me further. “Because I am perfectly capable, and you are suggesting I’m not.”
Hawk spreads his arms and leans over me. “Jesus, I was just trying to help. What’s your problem?”
“Do not hover over me like I’m a child.” We need to establish some boundaries, even if it’s unpleasant.
He takes a step back, showing me his palms. “Fine, I won’t be spoiling your shopping with my help,” he says and storms off toward the counter, leaving me to contemplate the food in my arms.
I’m pretty sure I upset him, and now that fact is hanging over me like a dark cloud. I may have learned about customer service at Best Burgers Bonanza, but dealing with my promised, mylover, is proving much more challenging. I wish I could just alreadyhavethe experience.
I flinch when he buys his food and stomps out. Should I apologize? I’m the one who’s feeling patronized.
With my jar of pretzels and a bag of carrot sticks, I approach the shopkeeper. I’m torn about how to make amends to my promised, but then I spot a pin with a hawk among other wildlife-themed decorations. I have to give up on the carrot sticks to afford it, but I hope it will make him smile. It does haveHawkwardwritten on it, and everyone likes a good word game.
“Crazy how even with all the modern technology, someone snuck into the MET and just snatched that thing. So many pricey paintings in there, and only this antique gets stolen? Bet some rich fuck made a special order. Like it’s not enough that the elites harvest blood for their face masks,” the shopkeeper says, resting her chin on the heel of her hand.
I follow her gaze to the television screen, and the pin almost drops from my hands as I face a picture of the greatest of the missing Nocturne Court artifacts, the Sunwolf Crown. Lost in the aftermath of the Night of the Bloodknife, centuries ago, it was thought to be gone forever, yet the powerful relic I’ve so often seen in a fresco at the back of the throne room stares at me from the screen with onyx eyes. Shaped like the skull of a huge wolf, yet molded to rest on a human’s head, it has crystal teeth and symbolic sun rays shooting up from the smooth part meant to rest on the wearer’s scalp. It’s made of solarin, not platinumand gold, and much more priceless than the TV presenter discussing the“bold robbery”could ever know. She claims it’s been found by archaeologists in Mexico just two years ago, and I cannot believe it’s been in the human realm this whole time.
So many times, my mother has mentioned that if only one of us Goldweeds claimed it, the Lord of the Nocturne Court would fear us enough to share his power. But if I could put my hands on such a prize and offer it to Lord Kyran, my banishment—
“Breaking news! The missing truck moving two dangerous prisoners has been found. It seems that the driver lost control of the vehicle, but one of the convicts murdered the other survivors in cold blood and seems to have escaped, so remain vigilant. He is dangerous,” a presenter speaks as I hand over all my cash. The shopkeeper’s gaze trails down my top in a way I can’t decipher, and as she opens her register to deposit the money, I raise my gaze to see a familiar face on the screen and I can no longer think about the Sunwolf Crown.
“If you see this man, do not approach him, he may be armed. Instead, alert the sheriff’s department.” The person on the TV reads out a phone number as I stare at Hawk’s likeness. He looks much more imposing in the picture, without even a hint of smile, and the harsh lighting isn’t doing him any justice.
But I shouldn’t be considering whether his depiction is handsome or not when I’ve just learned he has escaped prisonandmurdered several people.
My mouth is dry, and only a moment later do I hear the woman point to the few cents of change she put on the counter.
“Y-yes, thank you. Good day.” I turn, hugging the plastic jar of pretzels like a lover.
This can’t be happening. My Dark Companion. Wanted.
And much more dangerous than I ever expected. Am I really such a bad judge of character? Am I naive?
I walk out of the shop and stand on its porch, sucking in air as I attempt to get to grips with this new reality. So this is the reason why he didn’t want to be seen by Mrs. Moor. So this is why he’s wearing that stupid mask. And he’s told me nothing, because he likely believes he can toy with someone as inexperienced as me.
He has no idea who he’s playing with. I’m Prince Sylvan Goldweed, and even with the damn collar around my neck, in a world so new to me, I am capable of—
“Hi there, it’s a nice day, aint it?” a male voice says, and when I spin around, I’m faced with a man who’s taller than me but not freakishly so, and who’s watching me with a smile behind his neatly-trimmed mustache. He’s relatively young, though with some creases at the eyes, and he offers me a friendly nod.
I take a glance around, but Hawk is nowhere to be seen. The car is still there though, which means he hasn’t abandoned me.
“If one considers sunshine nice,” I say with the tiniest nod back.
