Page 66 of The Shadow Prince's Ruin
All the lights are off as I await Hawk in the main room of the tavern, and I’m so nervous I’m glad I had a sip of wine when it was offered to me.
The wedding guests gathered around me take a silent breath when the door opens. My beast towers over Fenren, who urges him to lower his head so he doesn’t hit it on the doorframe. Hawk is wearing a blindfold, because I wanted to keep that bit of court tradition in the ceremony, but he would have probably struggled in the dark anyway.
It’s been less than an hour since I last saw him, and I’ve sensed his presence nearby through our shadow bond. The connection is still so fresh I can barely cope with being parted from him. It’s as if I was expected to function without my right hand, but my other half is here now, and all will be well.
My Dark Companion’s eyes are covered, but he must sense my proximity too, because his heartbeat quickens.
The elves gathered around us do their best to stay quiet, and a soft cough coming from the corner cannot spoil this moment for either of us. Fenren leads the way, but the long, confident strides my beloved takes prove how badly he wants to join me.
A breeze that must have entered through an open window carries his earthy scent toward me, and I take a lungful of it, no longer nervous or plagued by doubt. When Hawk is close enough for me to see his handsome features in the glow of the single candle I’m holding, Fenren pulls off his blindfold.
My face will be the first thing he sees, because I am his flame in the night. His protector. His guardian in the Nightmare Realm. No one needs to know it’s Hawk who lights upmysky when our eyes meet.
Hawk smiles, and so do I as our hands entwine in front of all those strangers. I regret my Companion won’t get the pomp of a court wedding, with a lush ball to celebrate our union. He is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and deserves to be presented as the jewel he is, clad in the fine moth robes customarily worn by Dark Companions during a royal wedding.
But my Hawk is no dainty moth. He’s a bull. Affectionate yet powerful, and delicate fabrics and bejeweled wings wouldn’t suit him. I don’t need him to fit the mold of the many Dark Companions who came before him when he is perfect just the way he is.
As we stand under the antler chandelier, it’s clear to me that such trivialities don’t matter. He and I have bonded for life, and nothing can come between us.
The flame balancing at the tip of my candle turns his eyes into pools of gold, adding warmth to their usual green.
“Let me lead you through the dark,” I whisper the words a royal would say to their promised during the ceremony. No one needs to know that we’ve already made our bond with the Moon as our witness. My heart is suddenly so full I have to hold back tears.
Hawk swallows, and I see the muscles of his jaw twitch as he watches me with eyes so soulful I can’t understand why I initially rejected him. Our meeting was written in the stars, and I have almost missed a connection so powerful and deep his presence takes my breath away. When Hawk blows out the candle, symbolically confirming his trust in me, I close my eyes and smell the burning wax, joyful about the many days and nights we shall have together.
Swamplights come to life all around us, and several dozen elves erupt with loud cheers while tavern servers appear with huge trays full of drinks and snacks. Our guests are more interested in free food than our happiness, but I can’t hold that against them, because all the pats Hawk is receiving make his smile grow ever wider.
I was never fond of all attention being on me, so I’m glad Hawk is such a beacon for wide-eyed elves. Most of those gathered have probably seen a human or two, since I’ve got no doubt lots of them work with Fenren, but Hawk is truly something else.
So tall he has to watch his head constantly, wide in the shoulders, and handsome, he’s like a warrior from ancient ballads. He’s the kind of man you’d imagine capable of slaying a leviathan with his bare hands, or wielding the Frostblade, which hasn’t even been picked up in centuries, let alone used.
I’m so proud to call him my Dark Companion.
“I bet you’re hungry,” I say, squeezing his hand and pulling him toward the overflowing buffet set up in the corner. It features a whole roasted Goldbeak as the centerpiece, and while I already know I won’t be eating many of the foods on offer, the sight of its crispy skin makes my mouth water. Maybe back when I still lived at the Nocturne Court, I would have seen the food here as plebeian, but after long weeks in the world of humans and eating soft bread for almost every meal, the offerings laid out in front of me are a feast for the ages. No wonder the sight of all the rolls, roasted meats, cheeses, and mushroom dishes is making Hawk’s eyes shine.
“Wow. Yes. I am extra hungry, with a side of hungry,” he says and frowns, picking up an open sand clam, dusted with salt and the bright green shassel powder. “What is that?”
I explain to him how to eat it and wonder whether I should wait for someone to serve me the meat, but as the crispy skinstarts to disappear on people’s plates, I join in the uncouth ritual of ripping some off.
I’m very aware of people stealing glances at me or outright staring. I have been humbled by my experience in the human world and don’t feel as out of place in this tavern as I would have before my banishment. After all, am I not also a criminal as no doubt many of the elves here are? We might not beexactlythe same, since I am no ordinary cutthroat, but I do feel a certain camaraderie with those people.
Hawk sucks the clam from its shell, and I grin when he shakes at the flavor spreading in his mouth.
“What? Not to your liking?”
“It’s so… fizzy. I never had anything quite like that,” he tells me before grabbing one of the legs of the roast bird and tearing it off.
Two musicians choose this moment to start playing in the corner, and I flinch when the whole inn shakes with the thumping of feet as the guests stomp with approval. I’m shocked to see my Hawk jump up and down to join them, but then again, this is not the palace, and actions that would have made one the laughing stock at court seem perfectly acceptable in this tavern.
Maybe I actually like not being judged for enjoying myself.
“Oh, and this tastes just like that chicken we had at the gas station!”
I bite into the crispy skin and grin at him. “It does! What was it… thyme? That’s what it’s called?”
Hawk laughs. “They used a herb from my world? How luxurious! Wait, you’ve got some grease—” he leans in and wipes my chin with his sleeve. It’s so ridiculous to be doing this in public, but I don’t even mind anymore.
I stroke Hawk’s clean-shaven cheek. “Thank you. I need to be presentable for my husband.”
