Page 98 of The Shadow Prince's Ruin
Kyran doesn’t add to the question, but he glances our way, eager for gossip as any other man.
“You might be shocked to find out that not all men crave your muscles,” I say in a level tone, to not show how much the question really bothers me. I’ve made enough of a spectacle of myself on Kyran’s bedroom floor.
Tristan whistles. “Look at you trading like a—”
“That’s enough,” Kyran cuts into what was surely another insult coming my way.
Tristan rolls his eyes but doesn’t shut up despite dropping the earlier topic. “Did you bed him in his Sunwolf form? Would that even be considered ‘bedding’? I hear the Sunwolf is as big as a house and therefore wouldn’t fit in a bed.”
My cheeks go up in flames at the idea that my cousin is imagining my Companion mounting me like I’m a bitch in heat, and I can’t hide my shock. “How dare you! What kind of question is that?”
Tristan shrugs. “What? I’ve heard of elves seeking all sorts of pleasures.”
Kyran growls. “Tristan,do notbring up the kelpie incident. It does not matter that they’re sentient. That man is long gone from court.”
As they bicker, with Tristan pulling Kyran’s leg and the Lord remaining dead serious, my thoughts return to my lover, on his own in a tomb of cold stone.
It is when I spot the faintest hint of the spire at the top of the tallest tower of the werewolf castle that the steady rhythm I’ve been sensing from afar quickens so rapidly, my own heart skips a beat to match it.
“What is it?” Kyran asks.
“The castle. We’re almost there,” I point out the ruined building. “But his heartbeat has sped up. Could it be due to my proximity?”
While usually I would keep all secrets to myself to hold more cards, I need to share everything for Hawk’s sake. If there is anything Kyran knows about the bond that I don’t, he might use that information for all our benefit.
Tristan chuckles. “Prince Sylvan Goldweed, makes men’s hearts race even from afar.”
I want to respond with a biting retort, but when the echo of my husband’s heartbeat makes my chest ache and my head spin, I press on my breastplate, fighting for air. Petty rivalries don’t matter in the face of my husband’s suffering. I flinch when Kyran gets close enough to touch my back.
“Sylvan?” he asks, brows knotting above his regal nose. Ah, how I hate that he really is the right man for the job.
“May we add haste?” I ask, and Kyran gestures at the guards without a word.
The kelpies are taller than regular horses, but I still need to stand in the saddle to see the ruins better as we stampede down the track.
“I haven’t been here in ages,” Tristan says as we emerge from the forest and approach the crooked gate. Despite his carefree attitude, he makes sure his sword is ready. I shoot him a sharp glance as the soldiers spread out in a fan-like pattern in front of the steps leading inside the building. We dismount, and the moment my feet hit the ground, the unrest in my heart becomes yet more urgent. I cannot sense Hawk’s closeness despite being right by the castle. Can it be that the thick walls are somehow muting our connection?
“We will not fight him!”
“That depends on you though, doesn’t it?” Kyran asks and unpins the Umlaris Band from his saddle before tossing it to me. “Put it on him. We shall wait.”
I try to catch it, but I’m not the most agile of elves, and in a moment that will haunt me for the rest of my life, the collar slips from my grasp. Someone sniggers, and then, just as the Umlaris Band is about to drop into the mud, Tristan catches it with a long vine of his shadow. He lifts it and dangles it in front of me until I grab it in frustration.
He raises his brows. “Maybe don’t drop the priceless ancient artifact?”
“Maybe it shouldn’t have been thrown,” I grumble.
“Maybeyou two can stop bickering,” Kyran adds, imposing in his spiked pauldrons as he looks around, tense despite the veneer of calm he’s trying to project.
Tristan smirks and extends his hand to me. “I can go collar him if you’re worried about dropping it again.”
Kyran’s gaze zeroes in on the hulking Bloodweed menace. “You’re not going anywhere. The Sunwolf is a deadly threat to any shadow-wielder. We’renotrisking your darkness.”
His words stab me so deeply I can feel them bleeding my heart. Of course, my shadow doesn’t matter. Measly as it is, from the perspective of a powerful user of shadowcraft, my power might as well not exist at all. Humiliation is like a rope around my neck.
“You’re risking his. You think I’m less brave than Sylvan fucking Goldweed?” Tristan growls, visibly offended, even though Lord Kyran is just looking out for him.
“Your wings are still regrowing. And it’s not your mate who is afflicted.”
