Page 17 of Bartered by the Shadow Prince (Bargain with the Shadow Prince #3)

Too Little But Not Too Late

DAMIEN

T his isn’t my kingdom, and my brother isn’t a friend.

I make my way over to Eloise through a sea of appreciative hands patting my back, my shoulders.

Everyone is here. People cram into the cozy tavern, young and old, desperate to enjoy the stag’s blood and flesh.

Even the man from the general store to whom I provided a smaller stag in exchange for the saddlebags holds out his plate.

He is here, but his children and mate, if she is still alive, are not.

I won’t blame him for saving my payment for his family alone.

Not after seeing the hunger on his child’s face.

What I’ve provided today is too little, but for them, it’s not too late.

Ariadne is one of the last to arrive, and her eyes find mine through the crowd.

Those knowing, accusing eyes. How is it the woman could always see right through me?

She knows this is only a temporary comfort and that Bolvet Village will have the same problems it did yesterday tomorrow.

I’m powerless to change anything. Still, when Warbill thrusts a goblet into her hand, she guzzles it with tears in her eyes.

Her gray hair returns to the soft sand color it once was, and her sharp features fill out.

Even in the threadbare dress she wears, the dressmaker recovers the straight-backed sophistication I remember.

It’s the same way of carrying herself that my mother and sister once embodied.

My chest feels tight as I tear my attention away and seek out Eloise.

“Are you hungry? You can feed from me if you wish.”

She laughs. “You do know that I will eventually have to drink animal blood. You can’t be my only source of nourishment forever.”

The corner of my mouth twitches. “Can’t I?

” I know she’s right, but I’m enjoying this time, this bond between us, just for a while.

It helps me to feel needed, feel worthy.

If these people only knew how far I’ve fallen.

How powerless I’ve become. I am not worthy of the sacrifice Eloise made to free me from Valeska.

My blood is the only payment I can give her.

I’m not anxious for her to learn how little she actually needs me.

She tips her head. “Damien…”

I blink slowly. I’m sulking and she knows it. “Would you like me to get you a glass?” My voice is heavy with resignation.

“No. The people here need every drop.” Her brow furrows as she scrutinizes my face, trying to sort out my thoughts.

I hide them behind heavy steel walls. My self-loathing is my damage to repair.

She’s done enough for me. “You did a good thing today hunting this for them.” She points her chin toward the stag.

Warbill is carving the beast and passing the meat around the tavern.

Laughter and the raucous sound of frivolity are deafening in the round room.

A closet is opened. Instruments are pulled out and placed into the hands of three men and a woman.

A few scales and odd notes later, the hollow rhythm of drums melds with the thrumming of strings, the dulcet tones of a bone-carved keyboard, and a voice singing about sunrises and fields of crimson wheat.

A few couples begin to dance. I wonder how long it’s been since Bolvet was properly fed.

“I only did what my brother should have done a long time ago.”

“Warbill says they’ve been cut off because they won’t bend the knee to Nevina.”

I wince. So that’s it, why the men can’t hunt or buy what they need.

Every time they leave this village, they risk prosecution.

Now Tempest’s words make sense. Brahm hasn’t brought peace to everyone in Stygarde.

To some, he’s brought ruin. But the last thing I want is to worry Eloise.

She came here with me because I promised to make her a princess.

She came to find a home and the safety I owe her after the danger she survived.

And although she swears she doesn’t need a castle or pretty dresses, she deserves them. She deserves everything.

Admitting that my brother and his elf wife are intentionally starving their own kingdom over an unsworn oath would ruin everything.

Even admitting it to myself would mean I might have a responsibility to my people.

I refuse to go there. It would open the door to considering that instead of making a home for her, we would once again find ourselves fighting a war.

I won’t do it. This entire world can burn to ash for all I care—Bolvet and all the villages like it. It has nothing to do with us.

“Damien, did you hear what I said? Warbill thinks?—”

“I heard you, but… If all they need to do is bend the knee, maybe they should do it.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying that swallowing their pride seems like a better option than starvation.” The words sound harsh even to my own ears.

Eloise makes a face that’s somewhere between a cringe and a grimace. “You yourself said how difficult it was to accept a dark elf on the throne. Cultural differences die hard. It’s on Brahm’s shoulders to find a way to ease his people into this change.”

“You don’t know what he did or didn’t do,” I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know that Brahm wouldn’t have a clue how to handle the public relations of making a dark elf his queen.

“Look,” Eloise says, “when I was working with the queen and the other royal women on plans for the Harvest Festival, it was clear that Nevina hasn’t put forth any effort to reach out or understand shade culture.

I think Bolvet has their reasons for doing what they’ve done.

I think there’s probably more to this than just simple pride. ”

I look up from our whispering match at the shades who are spinning around the tavern, smiling brightly. “I think today is not the day to broach that particular subject.”

The corners of her mouth twitch down. “True.”

“You know what it is the day for?” I slant her a playful smile.

“What?” Her lips flatten into a straight line.

“Dancing.” I tug her off her barstool.

“Damien!” She squeals as I spin her about the room.

My hand settles in the small of her back, the silky feel of her new dress giving me some amount of pleasure.

At least I can afford to dress her like a princess, even if I can’t give her the title.

Voices and laughter bubble louder as we turn around the bar.

And Eloise gives herself over to it, seeming to forget her earlier concern with my brother, with the kingdom.

She spins and laughs and allows me to pull her closer.

This is what I want. This is the joy she deserves.

“Can I cut in?” Ariadne appears beside me.

“Of course,” Eloise says with a laugh before I can think of an excuse. Warbill is standing behind her, more than willing to take her hand and pick up where I left off. Ariadne steps closer, filling the space Eloise has vacated.

“Thank you for this,” she says as we start to turn. “You saved lives today.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for the dresses. Eloise seems pleased.”

Her face falls. “Dresses? Of course, I’ll make the dresses .

But surely that’s only the beginning of why you came today.

How do you plan to challenge the elf for your father’s throne?

How can we help? Warbill was once umbrae, but he and our other men are weak.

It may take time to get them organized. You should ask for their allegiance today, while they’re fed.

I know they will do whatever you ask, should you say the word, but it will be easier with a full belly. ”

I shake my head. “That won’t be happening, Ariadne. It can’t happen.”

She stops dancing. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not here to lead a resistance. I don’t plan to challenge my brother. I’m happy to help Bolvet and ask my brother to show you mercy, but this is his kingdom now. My only priority is to build a home for my mate and keep her safe. I can’t get involved politically.”

Her mouth drops open. “Can’t get involved?” she says too loudly. A few heads turn.

I place a finger over my lips. “Shh.”

“Do you even know what they’ve done? How many of our people they’ve?—”

I spin her around and toward the wall. “Not now. I will speak to you later of this, but not in front of Eloise,” I say through my teeth.

She nods reluctantly. “Out of appreciation for what you’ve done tonight,” she whispers, and then she’s gone.

“What was all that about?” Eloise is behind me. Gods, she’s beautiful, her chin raised in defiance, ready to defend a woman she met only hours ago. Every bit the royalty she was meant to be, despite the lack of title. I refuse to allow her to fall on her blade. Not for me. Not for my lost kingdom.

“Just making arrangements for delivery of the dresses.” I take her hand. “We should go. It’s getting late. The moon is setting, and I don’t wish to travel by rabble beast in full dark.”

“Okay,” she agrees, but the set of her shoulders tells me it’s not the last I’ll hear of it tonight.

We say our goodbyes, and I field a barrage of emotional shows of appreciation as we make our way toward the door.

I can’t help but notice there is nothing left of the stag but bones.

I’ve fed them for a day. I’ve maybe saved some of them from starvation.

But I haven’t helped them. Not really. Not permanently.

I tamp down the shame as we finally make it out the door, my self-loathing taking center stage as I mount Borus. Eloise doesn’t take her eyes off me as she positions herself in the saddle. She waits until we’ve left the village and are well out of earshot to speak again.

“You know it’s true, don’t you? Everything that Warbill told us. That’s why you’re upset. That’s why you wanted to leave this morning without any contact with your brother or the queen. You wanted plausible deniability for what you intended to do today.”

A growl rumbles in my chest. I can’t lie to her. Not when she asks me a direct question. “I didn’t know for sure. Tempest mentioned something that made me suspect things were amiss in the west villages.”

Her eyelids flare wider. “And today confirms your suspicions. You saw the way they were suffering.”

“Yes.”

“Well, what do you plan to do about it? We have to help these people.”

I look up at the setting moon and the castle in the distance. “As soon as I can slip away, I will visit Tempest. We may be able to make a home in Aendor.”

She’s quiet for a long time. “What about Bolvet?”

I sigh. “As I said before, if it’s only pride standing in the way of feeding themselves, they’d be wise to bend the knee.”

She shifts in her saddle. “That can’t be all there is to it. If it were only a matter of pride, I’m sure the villagers would have done so years ago. There must be something more.”

“Yet Warbill didn’t tell you more.”

“No. He seemed guarded, though, as did Ariadne. Maybe they can’t talk about it. Maybe talking about it to the wrong person could be deadly.”

“You are speculating, little bird. I don’t trust my brother or the dark elf at his side, but we haven’t been here long enough to draw conclusions based on what limited information we’ve amassed.”

She huffs, her eyes darting toward the castle and the fields of abundance on either side of us.

We pass a group of workers harvesting, hands stained red from the crimson wheat.

They look old and thin. These shades are not well cared-for.

They glance up at me as we pass, but if they recognize me, they make no indication.

Their glazed eyes pass over us, and then they return to their work.

Something is wrong here.

Eloise’s frown intensifies. “I think someone needs to speculate, Damien.”