Page 25 of Bartered by the Shadow Prince (Bargain with the Shadow Prince #3)

Emergence

DAMIEN

E loise’s blood has always tasted better than any other.

I’ve speculated that it’s because of her heritage.

Dragon’s blood runs through her veins, blood that can be intoxicating to our kind.

Still, I wasn’t sure if her becoming a vampire would temper the effects or change the taste.

But the moment I sink my fangs into her creamy flesh and the first spurt of blood dances over my tongue, I realize it’s the opposite.

Everything I loved about her blood before is now concentrated. Stronger. More delectable.

Why have I waited so long to drink from her?

But I know the answer to that. I didn’t feel worthy of her blood.

I am the reason for her losing her humanity.

I am the reason for her losing her magic.

My failure as her mate is why we’re in the mess we’re in.

I’m still not worthy of the gift of her blood.

But I will not deny my mate anything she demands.

I accept what she wishes to give. I drink and drink until she groans and twists beneath me.

I’ve taken a lot. Maybe too much in my gluttony to devour her. The swirl of my tongue over the wound sends her fingers into my hair.

I stretch over her, prowling up her body, pushing into her as we come chest to chest and hip to hip.

She inhales deeply at the invasion, her inner muscles squeezing around me.

She makes a soft, throaty sound, and it’s almost my undoing.

I meet those emerald-green eyes that have always held the truth for me.

“You are my alpha and my omega, Eloise. My beginning and my end. I’ve been holding on to this place, my memories of my family, as a mooring, a steadying rock I could always return to. But all that is gone. You are my mooring now. You are my only family.”

Tears well in her eyes. “Damien, I love you and will always be your mate and your family. But you are your own mooring. You’re strong.

You’re a warrior. Royal blood flows through your veins.

I am not your beginning or your end. I am only your partner, and right now, I want to show you just how much better it is when we face it all together. ”

She kisses me then, as her words still sing in my ears. They slip through my mind like sand through widened fingers as another wave of pleasure crashes into me. I move over her, driving in, becoming one with her out of some frantic need to mark her again as my own.

Her lips draw back from her fangs, and she strikes, right over my heart.

The feel of her taking nourishment from me throws me over the edge.

I empty myself into her, feeling her buck beneath me as her own climax rings through her.

Only after the last aftershock arches her back does she release the bite and lick the wound closed.

Her forehead is pressed to mine, and we breathe, breathe, breathe.

“I sense your mind at work, Eloise. Say what you are thinking.”

She kisses me softly. “After your father was taken by the dark elves and you rescued him, you said he was never the same.”

“He wasn’t. He recovered, slowly, but he always carried the weight of it in his eyes.”

“But still, he ruled. He ruled for centuries after you were taken, Damien, and the people of this kingdom still love him to this day. You suffered a similar fate under Valeska. You are here and you are recovering. What you and I endured will always be there, inside us. But it doesn’t have to destroy us.

It can become part of who we are. It can become part of what drives us.

We can use it as fuel to stop what happened to us from happening to anyone else. ”

I drag my nose along the side of hers, breathing her in, enjoying this moment, this nearness. “You are wise, my little dragon. And you’re right. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t wrong me, only yourself. And if you see it now, if you see what I see, that’s all that matters.”

I kiss her again, then roll onto my side so I don’t crush her. A tranquil silence fills the room, and my lids droop.

“I never told you what we decided about the Harvest Festival.”

“Hmm?” I open my eyes.

“Tempest, Eudora, Odette, and I have an idea. We think we can pull off a duplicate festival in the woods near Aendor. We’ll use the one here to placate Nevina, but it won’t be the real festival. No one from the west will have to bow to her demands to participate.”

I trace a finger along the side of her arm. “It’s brilliant.”

“I did think it was a rather inspired idea.”

Propping myself up on my elbow, I lift an eyebrow as the perfect plan forms in my head.

“People will be in and out of the castle all afternoon. The umbrae and the king and queen will be distracted. This is our chance to escape, Eloise, for both of us to slip through the guards undetected. We’ve been looking for an opportunity to leave this castle without inciting Brahm and Nevina.

This is it. We’ll attend the festival but slip out while they’re occupied with their other guests.

We can use this week to prepare and also use our position in the castle to bring your plan for the festival to fruition.

By the time they notice we are gone, we will be safely in Aendor, living under pseudonyms and blending in among commoners.

Do you think you can endure here until the end of the week? ”

She smiles up at me. “To help Zephrine pull one over on Nevina and be free of this castle? Glad to.”

By the time the night of the Harvest Festival arrives, Eloise and I have packed our things and hidden them in the stable.

Tempest and Eloise distract the king and queen with questions about how admission to the event will be policed, while a few other rebels from the Borderlands and Aendor help me move the statue of Thanesia into the courtyard from the cemetery, where she is promptly covered in a net of flowers, fruits, and foliage, donated by the Borderlands.

The end result is a remarkable effigy, although it doesn’t hold a flame to the one currently being assembled in Wickham Wood along the border of Aendor.

The location of the true festival was carefully chosen based on the way it borders Dimhollow.

The unseasonably cold weather in the area and the threat of attack from the witches to the north have left Wickham Wood unfrequented and unoccupied.

Tempest confirmed that the road was so overgrown as to be almost unmanageable for a carriage.

Together with volunteers from across the kingdom, we fixed the road and brought in everything we needed.

We toiled for two days creating a fitting sacrifice to Thanesia.

I’ve never seen a more thorough representation of every blessing Tenebris has to offer than what is on her altar, and all of it given willingly by those who have so little.

But the hardest part is still ahead of us.

Enough of us need to show up at the castle festival to appease Brahm’s and Nevina’s expectations.

The king and queen must believe that their festival is the only festival.

The noticeable absence of representatives from the west villages is unavoidable, but the royals must believe that the people of Zephrine are suffering for their insolence.

Eloise steps out of our bedroom, dressed in a blood-red gown the color of the deepest, darkest rubies. In fact, the tiara on her head is constructed of them, each one twinkling in her lighter red hair.

“My gods, Eloise. You’re stunning. I don’t know whether to bow or grab you by the throat, push you against the wall, and mark you with my mating scent for the third time today.” My voice is all grit and cinder, and I enjoy the flush that brightens her cheeks.

“Don’t you dare. It took me an hour to get my hair and makeup right. If we are ever going to make it to the festival, you’d better stick to distant compliments.” She winks at me over a wicked smile.

I bow deeply at the waist. “Pity.”

“And likewise.” She curtsies, her eyes raking over my New Stygarde finery.

In truth, the style is similar to what it was before for men: a suit of black and silver with a crimson sash appropriate for the season.

My war medals decorate the sash, enough gold pins to weigh down the fabric.

They predate New Stygarde, but I doubt anyone will have the audacity to pry them off me.

“The plan is we stay for ninety minutes, draw attention by pretending to have a couple’s argument, and then excuse ourselves from the courtyard.

You’ll head toward the stables, and I’ll exit out the back toward the cemetery.

We’ll meet again at the real festival in Wickham Wood.

You’ll bring the rabble beasts,” I say. I plan to watch over her as she rides, in case she runs into any unwelcome guests.

“Tempest has agreed to stay behind and encourage the queen to shut things down once the crowd dissipates around the two-hour mark,” she reminds me.

I hold out my elbow, and she hooks her hand through it. “Then shall we join the party?”

She smiles. “Today, everything changes.”

I lean over and whisper into her ear. “Not everything.” My limitless love for her will never change. But she knows that.

We descend the steps and exit into the courtyard where others, elves and shades alike, have begun to gather.

I have to hand it to Eloise and the ladies of Stygarde; this may not be the real festival, but the ambiance is breathtaking.

Chandeliers of white candles crisscross the courtyard, flames twinkling like stars above us.

Tables, adorned in emerald tablecloths and gold and silver finery, welcome guests, each with a three-tiered stand of rare meats and delicate pastries.

Brahm acknowledges me with a tip of his head from his seat on a throne on the far side of the room. Nevina sees me as well, but she lifts her chin and turns her attention back to the elf in front of her.

The likeness of Thanesia oversees it all, her altar laden with more of the kingdom’s bounty. This sacrifice is nowhere near what is waiting for us in Wickham Wood but is just enough to seem plausible in these difficult times.

We mingle among the crowd as a band begins to play from a balcony above us.

The musicians are competent but far from our best, but then, I know few of the people around me.

About half are dark elves, judging by their tall, narrow bodies.

The other half are composed of mostly younger shades.

I wonder if many of them were born into New Stygarde and if their parents are still alive.

Do they remember my parents’ reign? Do they understand how it was before and all that we have lost?

So much has changed since before I was taken.

A servant comes by with a tray of dark wine, and I take two, handing one to Eloise.

“Can you see what’s happening up there?” Eloise asks as a commotion near the door sends a rumble of whispers through the room.

I straighten to look over the heads of the other guests. A few elves move aside, and I see Tempest entering, followed by six men wearing the blue colors of Aendor and carrying a massive fish. I hide my laugh behind my fist, coughing into my hand.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Eloise asks again.

I lean closer and whisper in her ear. “Tempest has brought a dundle fish to add to the sacrifice.” We back up a few steps as her entourage makes its way down the center aisle toward the already overflowing altar.

“Oh!” Eloise raises her hand to her nose. “That is possibly the foulest stench that has ever stenched.” She stops breathing. “This is one time I’m happy to be a vampire.”

“Tempest knows how to make sure party guests don’t linger.

I’m jealous right now that you don’t have to breathe,” I whisper.

The men hoist the offering onto the altar.

The swollen belly of the fish partially splits at the force of impact and blood and guts dribble over one end of the stone table.

I snicker as the elves in the room start to drift toward the exit.

Tempest swaggers toward us and, through a tight smile, asks, “Did I make an impression?”

Moving only my eyes, I glance toward the king and queen. Brahm is scowling like he’s in pain, but Nevina is actually retching as her maids move her throne farther from the sacrifice.

I suppress my smile but can’t keep the corner of my mouth from twitching. “I’d say so.”