Page 1 of Bartered by the Shadow Prince (Bargain with the Shadow Prince #3)

Homecoming

DAMIEN

H umans have an expression: You can’t go home again. I haven’t found a better way to describe that incomprehensible sense of nostalgia experienced from revisiting the past. Some memories, I suppose, come coated in a thick layer of grief and loss for all that’s left behind and forgotten.

I am not human, but I understand this trite turn of phrase maybe better than any of them.

For too long, I truly believed that I’d never again see the land of my youth.

Deep down, I thought that given the rare chance I might return to the kingdom of Stygarde, I would find it ravaged by war and nothing like the world I remembered.

But, as Eloise and I are thrown from the portal she’s opened into the west garden, the untamed moonlight of Tenebris greets me like an old friend, casting a silvery glow over the honey-stone walls of Stygarde Castle.

Gleaming turrets poke holes into the velvety darkness above, and familiar gargoyles survey the expansive grounds from the same spots beneath the verandas of the upper floor living quarters as they did when I was a child.

This castle, the scent of amethyst roses blooming, the silk of moonlight on my exposed skin, it’s all exactly as I remember it.

This is no war-torn palace. This is a dream come true.

Home, at last.

Eloise is saying something, her voice a series of chimes in the background, while I, in awestruck exuberance, take in my lush and flourishing surroundings.

No evidence of the war I left behind is apparent in the old growth.

I smile at the bench where Eloise and I once made love in my dream.

I’m tempted to take her in my arms and recreate that memory for both of us, but I restrain myself.

It’s possible my mother or sister could be around the next bend.

Best wait to celebrate until we are behind closed doors.

I take a few steps toward the path that leads to the castle.

From this new vantage point, I can see fields overflowing with crimson wheat waving on a gentle breeze along the horizon.

In all my years, I never witnessed such a bounty as this.

By the maturity of the grain, something I can gauge by the feathery red tops of the plants, this will be a record harvest. Never would such a thing be possible if we were still battling Willowgulch.

“The war is over,” I muse. “Welcome to Stygarde, Princess Eloise.” I am beaming as I turn back to her, only to realize in an instant that she does not share my joy.

“Phantom!” she calls toward the forest that stretches behind the gardens. The tone of her voice is on the edge of panic, and her eyes are wild, searching the shrubbery for her lost familiar.

I sniff the air. The fox is gone. I am sure she had the creature in her arms when we entered the symbol, but the arduous journey must have wrenched the beast from her grip.

Although, she still holds her spellbook firmly against her chest. Fuck , Phantom is important to her.

Important to her magic. I’ve been so distracted with my own happiness that I haven’t noticed my mate’s distress.

I break apart, my shadows darting through the garden, searching. But there’s no trail, no hint of Phantom. I form again beside Eloise, shaking my head. “Should we keep looking, little bird?”

She whirls to face me, studying me for a moment and then the castle behind me.

A series of emotions flits across her face too quickly for me to guess what she’s thinking, but they soon melt into a smile.

“No. Phantom is never truly lost. I think I’m just tired.

I’m sure once I’ve had time to rest and settle into this new…

body, I’ll be able to summon them as always. ”

Her theory rings true. She’s been through so much in the last few days.

Suffered the loss of blood, the pain of death, an unexpected resurrection as a vampire, a new hunger for blood.

If those physical changes weren’t enough to upset the bonds she relies on for her magic, the emotional complications that followed might be.

Attacked by her enemies, she was forced to abandon her home and her best friend.

Plus, the complicated magic to bring us here likely drained her reserves.

It is no wonder she feels disconnected from her abilities. New body, new world, new life.

“Everything will feel differently tomorrow, once you’ve had a chance to rest and adjust. This setback isn’t particularly surprising or unexpected, given my experience with magic,” I reassure her.

Though I have a limited understanding of her particular power, my former servitude made me privy to a host of magical practices.

I’m confident in the assessment that Phantom’s absence is temporary. I hold out my hand to her.

She nods her agreement.

“Then come. I can’t wait to introduce you to my family.” The smile she gives me rivals the brightness of the moon. I take her hand in mine and lead us along the well-groomed path stretching from the garden to the front of the castle.

“You’re practically skipping,” she says through a smile. We approach the two massive wooden doors with their oversized wrought-metal hardware that form the front entrance to what was my boyhood home.

“I never thought I’d see Stygarde Castle again,” I admit.

“It brings me great joy—” My thought cuts off abruptly as my gaze sweeps to the top of the entryway.

Centered at the apex where the double doors meet is a family crest, but it is not my family crest, nor any I’m familiar with. My smile falters.

“What is it?” Eloise squeezes my hand.

“The crest over the doors is different from before. My family’s was comprised of a griffon, wings spread, behind crossed swords. I’ve never seen this one.” The coat of arms above us depicts a red stag cheek to cheek with a white one, horns tangled, a starry sky behind them both.

“Do you think it’s cause for alarm?” she whispers, taking a step back from the door.

“Stags, especially the red variety, are a symbol of my kingdom,” I say with an optimistic lilt. “I’m not sure why the crest has changed, but this new one also represents Stygarde. Considering how long I’ve been away, changes are to be expected.”

“Those things are stags?” Eloise’s brows lift. “Aside from the rack of horns, they look more like two rhinoceroses.”

I chuckle. “You’ll find that everything here is a bit more than on your world. Fiercer predators, bigger prey. Our gods require balance in all things.”

She snorts. “I’ve never been happier not to be human any longer than right now.”

Although we both laugh softly at her comment, I note a twitch of sadness in her smile.

Losing her humanity was not her choice. No amount of positivity about the benefits of her vampirehood will ever dull the pain of that violation, I fear.

All I can hope is that by providing her my love, a peaceful home, and space to work through her feelings, in time, she’ll heal.

I open one of the doors for her, and we both step over the threshold. For a moment, it is as if we’ve stepped back in time. Childhood memories wash over me at the sight of the vast foyer. Garlands of flowers and fruit hang in swags across the ceiling and down the walls.

For a moment, I’m my scrawny ten-year-old self, chasing after Karyl, my younger sister, to the sound of my mother’s laughter.

A gold chandelier filled with red candles flickers above our heads, also adorned in harvest finery.

It’s exactly as I remember it. Exactly as my mother had decorated when I was young.

“It must be harvest season. The holiday is of great importance to my people. The decor is meant to signify abundance,” I explain to Eloise.

She beams at the splendor. Her curly red hair is wild around her shoulders, the vibrant color matching perfectly with the fruit in the garland and providing a striking contrast to her royal-blue trench coat.

I’m stunned at how at home she looks among it all.

I pray to every god in the Darklands that she grows to feel the way I already see her, like she belongs here.

My sincere and most solemn vow is to give Eloise the peaceful life she deserves.

After everything she’s been through, her happiness is paramount.

“It’s magnificent,” Eloise whispers, her lips parting in wonder. She reaches out to caress one of the silky gold ribbons woven through the strands.

“It’s traditional,” I say proudly. “The castle hosts all the citizens of Stygarde each year during Harvest Festival. You’re in for a fitting welcome, little bird.

There will be feasting and dancing like you’ve never experienced before.

Like your Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve all rolled into one.

This was always my favorite time of year. My mother has outdone herself.”

“Oh,” she says absently, still taking it all in. “Are those pomegranates?”

“Similar. We call them nochtfruit. And those that look like grapes are called vastles here. Along with the flowers and the gold ribbons, the decor is meant to be pleasing to our goddess of night, Thanesia. In our religion, she created shades and is the goddess of fertility and abundance.”

Our whispers drift along the hall, drawing the attention of a servant.

I hear her hurried footsteps before I see her, the traditional gray of her robes signifying her rank.

As soon as she sees me, she comes to an abrupt halt.

Her eyes go wide, and all the color drains from her round face.

I don’t remember this particular servant, but she must know who I am because her perusal sparks with recognition.

I lift a reassuring hand. “Don’t be alarmed,” I say in the language of my kind, Aediadic. The words come slowly. I haven’t spoken this tongue in centuries. “All will be explained in time. Can you tell me where to find the king?”

Her eyes grow even wider, and then she turns on her heel as if the room is on fire and bolts for the servants’ stairs.

Odd. Did I say something to frighten her?

Then again, maybe it’s enough to see I’ve risen from the dead.

Certainly, after all this time, they would have presumed Cassius, Morpheus, and I hadn’t survived that day on the battlefield.

“What did you say to her?” Eloise asks, gripping her family’s spell book more tightly to her chest.

“Nothing to bring about that reaction. Perhaps she’s only excited to tell my family I’ve returned from the dead.”

She tilts her head. “You have been gone for quite some time to be so thoroughly resurrected. Should we have sent word somehow? If that’s how a servant reacts, how will your family? I’d hate for your mother to have a heart attack the moment she spots you.”

I laugh. “My family is made of tougher stuff than that.”

We stand in the grandeur of the foyer for another long minute. “I don’t think the woman is coming back,” Eloise finally says.

I cluck my tongue. “No matter. If any habits have remained among my kin, it will be their after-dinner gathering around the fire. We will find them in the drawing room. I am sure of it.” I tug her hand and lead her in that direction, anxious to talk to my father and catch up on what has happened in the kingdom in my absence.

I push through the door, relieved to find everything exactly how I left it.

The cozy space is lined with shelves constructed of dark wood and heavy with books.

Rich-toned tapestries coordinate with lush upholstery and depict bucolic views of Stygarde.

Before the fire, five chairs are set in a half circle to facilitate conversation.

This is the spot where my family once gathered, but I find the oversized chair that was once my father’s favorite empty.

The three smaller chairs that once supported Karyl, Brahm, and me are also empty.

Only when I notice a pair of narrow feet beneath my mother’s floral wingback do I suspect we’re not alone in the room.

I freeze. I can’t see who is sitting in the queen’s space, but those shoes are not my mother’s, and something about the way her bone-thin ankle melds into her calf puts me on edge.

A slender hand appears on the arm of the chair, pale and long-fingered.

I bristle. The perfectly manicured nails are far longer than a shade’s and painted a pale pink that wouldn’t have suited my mother or sister.

But it’s the abnormal length of the fingers from knuckle to nail that has me positioning myself in front of Eloise.

Only one species has hands like that. Only one abominable creature.

A dark elf woman.

The enemy.

Sitting in my mother’s chair.

I hold a finger to my lips, indicating that Eloise should remain silent while reminding myself of the same.

A growl threatens to rip from my throat, but I stay in control as I shift into my battle form, growing taller, broader, my wings, horns, and tail unfurling.

Eloise’s face pales. I creep toward the chair, my talons hungry for elf blood.

“Clara, I’ll take my tea here, please,” comes a voice that tinkles with elf magic like the dulcet tones of a silver wind chime. I take another step closer. Raise my hand, ready to strike. It’s a poor angle. I’ll take off her head and likely the back of the chair too. It can’t be helped.

The door behind me blows open, and my hand is seized by dark tendrils that coil around my wrist like a constricting snake.

“Noooo,” comes my brother’s voice. Brahm forms beside me, the shadows gripping my wrist morphing into his hand. Why has he blocked my blow? Could he be protecting the dark elf woman?

I glance from my brother to the elf who has leaped from my mother’s chair, her white-blond hair and unsettling amethyst eyes twinkling in the light of the fire.

“Do you not see the elf in our midst, brother? She has your mind!” I growl, glaring at the creature and lunging again.

“Stop, Damien!” Brahm bellows, holding me back. “Nevina is meant to be here. She’s my wife!”