Page 10 of Bartered by the Shadow Prince (Bargain with the Shadow Prince #3)

The Return of the Prince

DAMIEN

I t’s been years since I rode a rabble beast, but it comes back to me like I never left the saddle.

I always respected these animals, and I am elated to find Borus, the steed I once called mine, still alive and well in the stables.

I rode him into battle against the army of dark elves on many occasions.

Rabble beasts can live to be over a thousand years old but often die violently long before that.

It’s a miracle he’s still with me. When I was taken, he was left on the battlefield along with my broadsword.

I’d assumed he’d been killed in the fray. What a joy to see he’s survived.

I rub the white star on his forehead and scratch behind his ears. “You remember me.” He nuzzles my shoulder affectionately and scratches the earth with his front claws.

Everything has changed. At least I have this old friend.

Efficiently, I saddle the beast then mount him, riding him out onto the practice ring.

At my command, he charges the fence as if he’ll burst right through it, then stops on a dime at the gentlest tug of a rein.

Borus has still got it. His backward footwork is on point, and he pivots on one heel as smoothly as when he was a young beast.

“Why practice for war when we are a kingdom at peace?” a woman calls to me, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I haven’t heard that voice in centuries, but it’s not one I’d soon forget.

Tempest Maxilla, the Lady of Aendor, smiles at me from the railing.

I ride to her and dismount, commanding Borus to stay before drawing her into a warm embrace.

“Aunt Tempest! Now I know that I am truly home.” Although Tempest Maxilla is not a direct relation, she was my mother’s best friend, and there was never a day of my life I didn’t call her aunt.

I break away, overwhelmed with joy to see her again.

Thank the gods the wasting disease hasn’t claimed her too.

But she doesn’t share in my joy. When I draw back, her expression is grave.

“What happened to my son, Damien?” I check myself. Of course she’d want to know about Morpheus. Here I am, ready to pick up where we left off, and she’s still mourning the loss of her beloved family.

“He is well, Auntie. My apologies. I should have sent word immediately. Morpheus is a powerful leader now on the planet where I was taken. He’s formed a magical bond with a witch and shifter and therefore cannot return here.

Cassius, too, is in a powerful and important position as the commander of an army. Both remain, happily, on Earth.”

She inhales deeply and then blows out the breath. “Your mate, Eloise, told me the exact same thing, but I confess, I had to hear it directly from you to believe it. I will relay the news of Cassius to Deatrys.”

I glance up toward the castle. “She’s not here today? I thought you were planning for the Harvest Festival.” As a wealthy landowner and major benefactor of the festival, Cassius’s mother was always included in the planning in the past.

Her expression turns dark. “She still resides in the Borderlands. She and Cryllus maintain a comfortable home but are no longer in positions of influence. Also, Odette and Marlus Jopwyn hold the royal positions of Lady and Lord now. Their predecessors…fell during the war.”

I frown. “In battle or by plague?”

She steps in close and speaks in a voice so low I am sure it is meant only for my ears. “I’m afraid much has changed since you left, Damien. Much that I cannot explain to you here. There are far too many eyes and ears.” She makes another darted glance toward the castle.

“Things certainly have changed,” I say, feeling a deep melancholy come over me as I remember my family, and loss and grief threaten to smother the breath out of me. “But I take some solace that their sacrifice was for a purpose.”

She snorts. “A purpose?” The word sprays forth as if it is liquid that her body refuses to swallow.

I furrow my brow. “I mean only that Stygarde is in a better place today than when I left. The war has ended. The fields are overflowing, and my hunt last night found a royal forest almost overrun with stags.”

She swallows, pressing a hand firmly into her stomach. “Oh, I see. I must remind myself that you have only recently arrived home.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sometimes things are not what they seem on the outside.”

Another glance toward the castle, and this time, her gaze holds.

I see what she sees. Brahm is approaching at a fast clip.

Her spine straightens, and she paints a smile onto her face.

“May I suggest you take one of these beasts and visit the west villages? Get to know again the kingdom you left behind? Then talk to me about purpose and peace.”

A chill radiates through me at her whispered words.

“Lady Maxilla? What brings you to the stables this morning?” Brahm’s voice booms from the doorway. He isn’t dressed for riding.

She offers him an unhurried and loving smile. “Saying hello to your brother after his astonishing resurrection from the Darklands,” she says. “Quite a miracle to have him home.”

Just like Morpheus, Tempest is an expert at making those around her believe what she wants them to believe.

A second ago, her expression was bitter, almost angry, and now, she reaches for Brahm’s hands and kisses his cheek as if she is reuniting with family.

I make sure my own face does not betray our conversation.

She lifts one hand to wave to me. “I insist you bring that new mate of yours for dinner soon, Damien. When is his day off, Brahm? We must catch up.”

Brahm blubbers as if he’s not sure what to say. “He’s only just begun his work here.”

“Then I’ll see you in one week’s time, Damien!” A day off each week was standard in our kingdom, but by the sour face Brahm pulls, I assume New Stygarde is not so generous with its policies.

“I suppose that would…” he mumbles noncommittally.

She curtsies to Brahm, before leaving the way she came.

Once she’s gone, I turn back to Brahm. “What can I do for you?”

“My king,” he adds with a slight twitch of his lip.

I clear my throat, my pride flaring. The last time I was with my brother, he could hardly lift his head off the bar. It almost kills me, but for Eloise, for the sake of stability until I can find a long-term solution, I will recite whatever words he wants me to. “What can I do for you, my king?”

He laughs softly. “I’ll never tire of that.” He turns and gestures toward the barn. “Come. I need to show you something on Athena’s footpad.”

In fact, he doesn’t need to show me anything. I noticed the sore within an hour of making rounds in the stables. The beast has a wound where a rock dug in, but I’ve already removed and treated it. It simply needs a chance to heal.

I grit my teeth and force myself to listen as Brahm drones on about his inaccurate diagnosis and prescribes an ineffectual treatment. I nod and promise to do as he suggests and then watch him walk back to the castle as I once again wonder how he, of all people, ended up on the throne.