Page 27 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

A somewhat hysterical laugh crawled up her throat. “Ask anyone here. They’ll vouch for me. My name is Shadow, has been since the day I was born.” Well, that wasn’t strictly true, but it was the only name she remembered. The brothel owner who’d taken her in, the only mother figure she’d ever known, had taken to calling her Shadow because of the way she’d followed her around those first few weeks. In the years after, Shadow suited her for other, less innocent reasons.

When there was only one more person between her and the man with the list, Shadow grasped them by their shirt and tugged them back.

“Hey!” he protested, until he realized who she was. “Lady Shadow, I-I... please, after you.”

“See.”

The redhead crossed his arms over his chest. “That proves nothing.”

She huffed, done with his nonsense, as she turned to the man with the list. He gaped at her, having to clear his throat a few times before he could speak. “Lady Shadow, what an honor. Are you here to inspect the troops?”

“I’m here to sign up.”

“Sign up?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No. I just didn’t expect to see you.” She glared at the scribe until his ears turned pink and he held out a quill dribbling ink. “Just sign your name on the next available line.”

Her heart finally returned to a somewhat normal rhythm as she scrawled her mark across the page with a flourish.

She’d done it.

Shadow shoved the document back at him, a giddy smile curling her lips.

“Lady Shadow, you’re not done.”

“What?”

His hands trembled as he pushed two more forms in front of her. “You need to sign these waivers.”

“Darkness above, why?”

“In-in case of injury. O-or death. It says that your next of kin will receive a small sum and that no action will be taken against the High Lord for your untimely demise.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Needing this to be over, she snatched the quill back up and signed her name so forcefully the parchment ripped beneath the sharp nib. “That better be it, or the next thing I start ripping is you.”

“That’s i-it, m-my lady. You’re all set. Welcome to the Contest of Champions, and may the stars bless you with good fortune.”

She had only enough time to suck in her first full breath of the day when she felt it. A shift in the air, like a ripple in water.

He’d found her.

But it was too late. She’d already done it. Not even he, the High Lord, could stop what she’d just set in motion.

The crowd parted as Erebos stalked straight for her. “Moonbeam,” he growled, taking her elbow in a painful grip, “what have you done?”

Before she could answer, the redhead shoved her to the side, his face twisted in fury. “Get your fucking hands off her.” Then he blinked, his body going still. But not with calm; her stranger was the very picture of rage about to bubble over. Even she shivered at the violence shimmering in his eyes. His voice turned ugly as he sneered, “Kieran.”

Something about the barely masked threat in his voice had her snapping into action. She may have her own issues with the High Lord, but she was still his faithful servant.

Her dagger was pressed to his neck before he sucked in his next breath. “Think very carefully about what you do next, stranger. I will bleed you dry and not lose a moment’s sleep over it.”

“You’d defend him? After everything he’s done?”

“I defend himbecauseof everything he’s done. The High Lord is a hero. I would give my life to spare his. So would everyone else in this city.”

The stranger looked as though he was about to be sick. “What has he done to you?”

---