Page 45 of Bartered by the Shadow Prince (Bargain with the Shadow Prince #3)

Watch Me

ELOISE

T he door to my mother’s studio is both the same and different.

The dragon stares at me from its place curled at the bottom of the door, but the paint is chipped as if a hundred years has passed since I was home.

I hate the way that makes me feel. Already, I am disconnected from my family and my magic.

Disconnected from my past. Vines of thorns grow around the doorframe, purple roses filling the hallway with a heady scent that is suffocating in the small space.

My eyes dart to Damien’s, and then I open the door.

Only, when I cross the threshold, I am not in my mother’s studio.

I’m in Valeska’s bedroom.

And Damien is chained to the bed.

I whirl to ask Damien if he recognizes this scene, but he’s gone, and so is the door I passed through. “Damien?” He was right by my side. Shit, shit, shit. That must mean I’m supposed to face this challenge alone.

I swallow hard and turn around, progressing deeper into the scene.

I remember this place from the night I broke Damien out of Valeska’s chambers, but I’ve never seen the room exactly like this.

Damien is completely naked, chained by the neck to the headboard.

Sunlight glows against his skin. That would mean he’s mortal.

He’s so thin, emaciated. I can count each of his ribs, and his skin is far too pale.

I remember him looking like this in his dream when I visited him using the Hitch and Cast spell, but it’s different seeing him here, helpless against red silk sheets with nothing to cover himself.

“You will drink from me.” Valeska’s voice has me palming my daggers and baring my fangs. She stands at the end of the bed in nothing but a short silk nightgown the same color gold as her eyes.

Damien says nothing. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t swallow. His chest barely rises and falls. He’s dying.

Valeska moves to his side and presses her wrist to his mouth. “Drink!” she commands.

Damien makes no move to drink. I sense he’s still strong enough.

He’s choosing not to take her blood. My eyes burn as I understand what’s happening here.

Damien is choosing to die rather than be bloodbound to her.

This must have happened before I was able to reach him.

By the time I was in Night Haven, he was bound to her, and he looked healthy.

Not like the skeleton barely existing in this bed.

Valeska scores her wrist and brings it to his lips. I cringe but don’t look away. In the back of my mind, I know there is a puzzle here I’m supposed to solve. My only way out of this room is to figure out what it is and move beyond it.

Blood spills from the side of Damien’s mouth, but he does not swallow. Valeska’s scowl grows more pronounced. She leaves her wrist sealed to his lips and drags her nails down his chest, his abdomen. I hold my breath, shaking as her fingers trail lower on his body.

Something inside me cracks. I can’t watch her do this to him. I can’t let this happen!

“Stop!” I screech. I pounce like a predator, becoming a Tasmanian devil of whirling blades, biting fangs, punching fists and kicking legs.

The Valeska of the shadowpath does not fight back.

I shred her face, her neck, her torso. In minutes, I’ve reduced her to ribbons and am covered in her blood.

It drips from my elbows as I crouch over her sobbing, my blades stabbing her torso again and again.

I scream and scream and scream at her, reducing the slivers of her flesh to ground meat.

When there’s nothing left of her, I stand, trembling, and sheath my daggers.

I’m still sealed inside the room. Killing Valeska was not the way out.

I close my eyes and center myself, choking back my sobs.

Everything about this has shaken me to my core.

I can’t face the Damien on this bed again. I can’t see him hurt in this way.

Catarina said we would be faced with our traumas and that if we’d dealt with them, traveling the road would be less difficult.

I’d known Valaska had forced herself on Damien in every way she could, but I’d never processed that trauma in a personal way because it was not my trauma; it was his.

I’d avenged him when I killed her. So why was I in this room?

I round the bed so that I’m close to Damien’s head. He looks miserable, the muscles of his face and neck strain with pain but also… shame . I see it now. He shouldn’t feel shame for something he couldn’t control, but of course he did. Anyone would.

“You will drink from me.” Valeska is back at the end of the bed. The scene is replaying. Fuck . Nothing I can do will stop this. I wasn’t even here when it happened.

I look closer at Damien. I wasn’t here in this room, but I was in his heart.

“Drink!” Valeska commands, her bleeding wrist sealed to his mouth.

I bring my lips close to his ear. “It’s okay, Damien.

Swallow. You will survive.” My voice comes out in a sob.

I refuse to look at what Valeska is doing.

I keep my eyes trained on him. “It doesn’t matter what she does to you.

She can’t ruin you. She can’t ruin us. I’m coming for you, and when I do, we win. Do you hear me, Damien? We will win!”

His throat undulates. He swallows.

Behind me, there’s a click. The door is open. I’m free.

I race out of the room and slam the door closed behind me. The real Damien isn’t there in the hall with its black bricks and purple roses, but at least I’m free of that scene. Alone, and safe for now, I bury my face in my hands and weep.

DAMIEN

Eloise opens the door, and I step across the threshold into her mother’s art studio.

I know this room well. I cleaned Tony’s blood from almost every surface the day he died.

It’s similar to the one on Earth but slightly different, although to name what things have changed would be like playing one of those magazine games of find what’s missing.

I see a version of her at the window. She’s wearing her coat and it looks like she’s frantically trying to open it, but the frame is painted shut.

“When did this happen, little bird?” I ask, but when I turn to where she just was, she’s gone. So is the door. I test the wall again, although the outcome is the same as before. Whatever challenge I am to face here, it seems I must do it alone.

I walk deeper into the room, just as the Eloise character whirls to face me.

No, to face Tony. He’s now beside me with a bottle and two glasses.

“We should celebrate our new partnership.” He opens the bottle with his teeth and pours two servings. He hands her one, but she doesn’t take it.

“I don’t drink anymore. Health reasons,” Eloise says.

“You’ll make an exception this time. I insist.” Tony forces the glass into her hand.

“You killed my parents.” She shakes her head.

“Drink the wine, Eloise,” he says through his teeth.

She hurls the glass at him, and it explodes against his raised arm, cutting his face. That’s my girl. But Tony attacks her, strangling her. She’s only human! He’s going to kill her!

I break into shadow, stabbing through his chest and up through his chin. Pulling him off her, I send my shadows down his throat and expand them, popping him like a balloon. But when I turn back to Eloise, she’s not the same. She’s grown old, ancient.

“No!” I’m with her in an instant, but she’s already ash. She crumbles into dust and sifts through my arms. I cry out her name, “Eloise!”

Shaken, I brush the ash from me and scan the room. I’m still sealed inside. Shit. Shit. Shit . I have failed this test. Drawing back, I shake my head. Why? What was I supposed to do? Why did she age? Why did she…?

It comes to me the moment I think the word “die.” If Tony doesn’t kill Eloise, she doesn’t descend into the underworld where her parents completely unbind her powers.

Eloise doesn’t become the Eloise of today if she doesn’t suffer this death.

I can’t stop it from happening without irrevocably changing who she is, who she is meant to become.

I close my eyes and back up a step and then another, praying for another chance. I’m rewarded when Eloise is back, trying to open the window.

Tony arrives. He pours the drinks.

They exchange words.

She throws the glass.

He attacks. I watch her life drain from her eyes. “Fight, Eloise,” I cry. “Come back. Kill him as you were always meant to!”

She reaches for her palette knife. And then she goes limp in his hands.

The bastard doesn’t stop strangling her.

Tony laughs. Laughs as her body flops like a rag doll.

I’m barely holding myself back when her eyes flip open.

The palette knife flies into her hand, and she stabs him in the side. He stumbles back, cursing her.

With a running kick, she sends Tony flying into her mother’s sculpture.

Eloise stares up at him, eyes rimmed red, neck ringed with enflamed bruises. She’s a warrior. She’s survived. In her eyes, I see the start of everything.

There’s a click, and the door opens. I race into the hall and straight into her arms.

“Damien!” she says, breathless.

“Thank the goddess, you’re okay.” I hold her close.

“I never knew,” she says. “I never knew what you had to do to survive.” Her breath hitches.

I grip her under the chin. “I could say the same.”

Our eyes meet, and she seems to grow, to stand taller. Both of us do. Stronger in each other’s presence. An unspoken agreement passes between us not to share what we each experienced a moment ago. One thing is for certain—if we are going to survive this road, we can’t stay in the past.

The roses grow again. The hallway opens.

“Let’s go,” she says.

I take her hand. “Lead the way.”