Page 43 of Bartered by the Shadow Prince (Bargain with the Shadow Prince #3)

The Descent

DAMIEN

“ Y ou don’t have to do this,” Eloise says for the fortieth time.

We’re back at Catarina’s, and she’s preparing the spell.

We’ve been over this time and time again since I first brought up going with her.

She can’t tell me no. To do so would be hypocritical.

Why should I, as her mate, allow her to die but not be allowed to die with her?

“It makes the most sense. If we fail, we will be together in the afterlife. Plus, if this works the way you’re expecting and you must master a series of challenges posed by Thanesia, maybe I can help.

It is said the goddess has a soft spot for warriors and mates.

My being there could work to your advantage. ”

Catarina returns with an enormous brass bowl filled with something that looks like mud. Eloise sighs. “Catarina, isn’t it better if Damien stays on this plane so that I can follow the bond between us to the land of the living?”

Catarina lifts her chin and sends us both a pronounced frown.

“Whatever gave you that idea? In theory, I suppose it could help under certain circumstances, but in this case, you are hoping to convince the goddess to allow your ancestors through the door. You are descending on a magical tether I’m going to put in place.

You will follow that back to the land of the living.

As long as you are light of heart, the ascent will not be difficult at all. There is no need for him to stay.”

Eloise shifts. “But isn’t it more difficult for you to descend two individuals instead of one?”

She waves a hand. “Negligible. The two of you will do most of the work.”

The dismissal makes Eloise roll her eyes. She’s out of excuses. We do this together or not at all. I shoot her a wicked smile, sharpened on the grit of her own making.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you love me for it.”

“There is one thing,” Catarina says. “Today you descend into the land of the dead. This journey is no common task. I sense the bond between you is strong, but there’s a way to make it stronger. I could marry you now, before you descend.”

Eloise’s mouth gapes, but I find the idea intriguing. I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of it. After all, during her trials in Night Haven, I promised to make her my wife. Our mating, to me, is a far more important thing. But in her human world, marriage is paramount.

I take her hand. “Will you marry me, Eloise? It wouldn’t be the wedding I promised you—that will have to wait until another time—but I swore if you came to Stygarde with me, I would make you my princess.

While I can’t offer you a crown, New Stygarde is a false kingdom.

My mother is the rightful queen, and I am a rightful prince.

Marry me. Let me fulfill this promise to you before we…

” Die . I don’t finish the sentence. It seems like bad luck to say it aloud given the circumstances.

Eloise’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline. “Yes!” she finally says, sounding breathless as if she’s just found her voice. “I will marry you. I don’t care if it’s in a church or if there’s a crown involved. I want this.”

Catarina smiles. “So mote it be. Please join hands.”

I take Eloise’s hand, so much smaller than my own, and sense the rightness of the fit of it inside of mine. Catarina pulls a red silk ribbon from her pocket, wraps it around my wrist and then around Eloise’s. It’s a figure eight, an infinity symbol. She ties it with a bow.

“As your hands are bound together, so too are your lives bound. Each of you flows into the other, no beginning, no end. Bound by love. Two bodies, two souls, now one from this day forth.”

A tear escapes Eloise’s eye, and my throat goes tight with emotion. This was not the ceremony I wanted for her. That one will have to wait. But there is something special about this, about a private binding, about knowing it is complete before we walk the road.

“It is done. You are husband and wife.” I lean forward and kiss her, until Catarina clears her throat and pulls the ribbon from our wrists. She spreads her hands toward the two pallets on either side of her. “It is time. Please.”

Eloise and I have armed ourselves heavily, which means it takes a minute for me to get comfortable.

Dawnbreaker cuts a hard outline against my back as I lie down on the mat and look up at the ceiling, what I can see of it anyway.

The entire thing is covered in plants and herbs hung from a rack to dry.

Warmed by the heat of the fire, the drying herbs emit a medicinal odor that permeates the small room.

I reach across the space between us and thread my fingers into Eloise’s. Catarina gouges out a small amount of the sludge from the copper pot and starts drawing symbols on Eloise’s face with it.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Ash,” Catarina answers.

“The ashes of what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

I hold still as she draws the pattern on me as well. The entire time, she hums something I can hardly hear, a tune in an ancient language I don’t know. The melody is haunting and seems to hollow me out, leaving me empty.

She picks up a brass mallet from beside the pot and taps it against the side.

A gong rings through the room, and the floor drops out.

A shock of pain rattles my bones as if I’ve been struck by lightning.

Soon, though, there is only darkness and Eloise’s hand in mine.

When the light returns, we are flat on our backs on a mossy knoll, beneath a canopy of tangled branches.

Eloise stumbles to her feet. “Is this a forest? Strange.”

Enormous trees with bark the color of oxblood surround us, unlike any I’ve seen before, with broad, spade-shaped leaves. To my left, the woods are parted by a wide trail constructed of interlocking black bricks. “The shadowpath.”

“At least our weapons made it,” she says, checking her thighs for her daggers and my back for Dawnbreaker.

“Small favors.”

She stares down the dimly lit road and the branches and fallen leaves that pepper the path. In places, the roots have raised the bricks, making the walkway uneven. “I guess we should go, then.”

Our eyes catch. I nod. Together, we set off down the road.

“This is giving Wizard of Oz ,” she says.

“Are you the scarecrow, the tin man, or the cowardly lion?”

She laughs. “Why, I’m Dorothy, of course! Off to see the wizard about the power to take me home.”

“In that case, what role do you see me in?”

She glances in my direction. “You already have a brain, a heart, and you were brave enough to die for me. So, you must be Toto.”

I move closer to her as we walk. “You think I’m the little dog in the basket?”

She shrugs. “He defends Dorothy until the end.”

“I guess I’m Toto, then.”

We make a sharp turn, and I stop short when I see what’s blocking our path.

“What the fuck is this?”

Ahead of us is Harcourt Manor. Only, it isn’t the Harcourt Manor we left behind. It’s decrepit and overgrown. Birds, or maybe bats—we’re too far away to tell—fly out of a section of collapsed roof. “I think this may be our first challenge. We have to go through the house.”

“But why does it look like that?” Eloise’s voice sounds strained, and her hands are shaking.

I take her by the shoulders. “Nothing you see here is real. This is the shadowpath into the Darklands. These are tests to prove we’re worthy of reaching Thanesia. All of this is a mental construct meant to rattle and distract you. Stay centered. You can do this.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and nods. “You’re right. I knew this was coming. It just caught me off guard.”

“I think it’s meant to.” I tip my head toward the house. “Let’s go.”

Side by side, we walk to the porch and ascend the stairs. The door is cracked open. As silently as possible, I draw my sword. Beside me, Eloise palms her daggers. Gently, I attempt to push open the door, but it catches on something. I push harder. It opens. I instantly regret it as Eloise gasps.

Her grandmother’s body lies in the foyer, dead. The old woman’s throat is torn open, those aqua-colored eyes of hers staring aimlessly up at the ceiling. Blood splatters the walls. “It’s not real,” I reassure Eloise, stepping over the illusion.

She sheathes one of her daggers and grabs my arm. Closing her eyes, she swallows repeatedly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I have you.” I guide her forward. In her real house, the foyer would lead to a hall.

If we turned right, we’d reach the kitchen.

Left, we’d reach the parlor. But this challenge doesn’t give me a fork in the road.

It leads me directly to the parlor. I can’t continue wherever the path plans to take me without going straight through it.

Having recovered herself, Eloise releases my arm and draws her second dagger again.

“Ready?” I ask her.

“Yeah.” Her eyes meet mine. We step into the room together.

The scent of mold and fetid, rotting meat reaches me, even as the scene in front of us threatens to bring me to my knees. There, at the center of the room, I see myself in my battle form, blood covering my mouth, my chest.

Eloise is dead in my arms.