Page 74 of The Shadow Prince's Ruin
He looks down on the contraption attached to his right hand, then at me. “Are you sure?”
It hurts that he doesn’t trust me, but then again, everyone keeps warning him about every single thing in this goddamn swamp. For good reason. There are creatures here that would gladly eat the tasty morsel that he is, but one has to make bold choices to achieve great results.
“Well… yes. I just need to get there. I could use shadow to weave a path over the water.” I touch his arm in excitement, and its warmth reminds me how much I miss his touch. I want to do this nice thing for him so badly, especially since his hand aches to the point of him struggling to hold heavy things in it. When he recoils, the fire of my enthusiasm is extinguished.
“I… no, there’s no need. It’ll get better on its own,” Hawk says and pulls his hand to his chest, as if he expects me to grab it.
I lick my lips, unsure how to approach this gentle subject, but I’m not letting it go, because the marroweed isright there. Why should he suffer for no reason?
“Hawk, please. I promised to use barely the surface of your shadow. Not only will I not overuse it, I will not need to even consider such an option. It will feel like but a tingle in your palms, but my own power is too weak to hold my weight. Let me help you.”
Hawk rubs his face and takes a sip from his flask. “No. I really… don’t want to feel that sensation again,” he says, lowering his voice. “It’s like having fuel siphoned out of me.”
I huff in frustration. “That’s only because I used far too much too fast. Do you not trust me?”
Ivy whistles. “Woo, trouble in paradise? That was quick.”
Hawk ignores her and meets my gaze. “That’s not the point. This whole thing makes me feel like I’m at your mercy, and I fucking hate that. Five years in prison, and I’m really fed up with being chained up.”
I turn to Ivy in frustration. “Stuff that sandwich in your mouth and be silent!” I take a deep breath. “Hawk, this is unreasonable. You are thrice my size. I am at your mercy at any given time, and I accept that because I trust you. I accepted the risk even before we sealed our bond. Look.” I draw a piece of his shadow to my hand, then flatten it with ease so it resembles a leaf. I blow at it, and it falls into place on the water several feet from us. All my years of blood, sweat, and tears to reach a reasonable level of shadowcraft, and now, with the depth of power hidden in his, every skill and trick is easy like kneading dough is for a royal baker.
I point to the leaf. “See? Did you even feel a thing?”
He’s quiet as he moves his gaze to me. I know he’s not happy even before his mouth opens. “You took it, even though I told you not to? What the hell, Sylvan?” he asks, scrambling to his feet, ready to march off.
“I promised to use barely the surface and that’s what I did! I bet you didn’t even feel it at all.” I stand my ground, because he’s being obtuse.
“That’s not the point,” Hawk snaps, but as I step toward him, already holding my index finger ready to poke his chest, water sprays us both, and massive black teeth close on the shadow leaf, taking it back into the depths.
We both go still, unsure what this was, but Fenren and Ivy are already on their feet, dashing away from us.
“Run! Run, run, run!” the King of Smugglers yells, and I know we’re fucked.
Chapter 29
Hawk
Wrestling an alligator would have been preferable to dealing with the beast chasing us. The truck-sized crocodile has two heads, two tails, sharp black crystals growing out of its back, and madness in its yellow eyes. Algae clings to its dark gray scales as it crawls onto the patch of dry land we’ve just vacated, and its two mouths utter asynchronous hisses that make the birds and frogs go eerily quiet.
I’m about to take Sylvan onto my back and run when Fenren passes us both, dashing back toward the monster. Air is trapped in my throat as I watch our guide toss a black ball toward the water, luring the creature away from a little brown bag he left behind.
I don’t know what could be important enough for him to risk his life like this, but I grab Sylvan’s hand when one pair of the giant’s eyes notices the elf. Like its cousin from my world, the reptile appears heavy and slow, but when it twists its body,snapping its long teeth in the very place Fenren’s left a moment ago, it’s clear we’re all in mortal danger.
Roaring like a failing engine, it charges after the smuggler, but instead of getting cornered by the thick trunk of the willow, Fenren grabs one of the lush vines and climbs the tree with the ease of a monkey. His feet slip when the reptile slams into the tree, but his hands remain tight around the vine, and as he unsheathes the weapon attached to his hip, the beast thrashes under him, attempting to leap up and collect him like a ripe fruit.
Sylvan digs his heels into the mud, refusing to let me lead. “He’s got a blackblade! No… what is this creature doing so close to the Nocturne Court?”
It’s only then that I notice the strange darkness surrounding the long dagger in Fenren’s hand. He stabs at the creature once it rests its front claws on the trunk, but the attack angers rather than frightens the monster.
“Bassals are drawn to shadowcraft!” Sylvan cries, refusing to move, even though the behemoth could reach us within seconds. “Don’t use the dagger!”
I’ve had it with this bullshit, so I grab my boy, sling him over my shoulder, andrun.
Ivy’s dusky red cloak flashes close to a lone hill with a thatch of bushes growing at the top. Its side is a steep cliff, as if the slope that previously existed has crumbled long ago enough to allow for the growth of moss and small plants. Eager to hide and wait out the damn… bassal, I run so fast my feet barely touch the dirt. As I dash behind the mound, I hear the monster coming our way.
The ground shakes as though we’re on the verge of an earthquake, and the splashing of water brings to mind a horde of charging elephants, but I do the only thing I can—hold onto Sylvan’s legs and use my three remaining limbs to crawl up the steep incline that might either offer us salvation or leave us even more vulnerable to the beast.
Its thundering cries resonate in my ears by the time I roll onto the overgrown hilltop and cover Sylvan with my body in an attempt to make us both flatter, less noticeable between the grasses and shrubs. But somewhere below, the bassal keeps up its violent thrashing. I open my eyes and spot Ivy curling up behind a fallen tree. She’s tense and covers her mouth with both hands, which prompts me to press my finger to his mouth, to ensure Sylvan’s quiet, and then crawl toward the girl.
