Page 46 of Bartered by the Shadow Prince (Bargain with the Shadow Prince #3)

Promises, Promises

DAMIEN

A t the end of the hall, we find ourselves standing in her kitchen.

It doesn’t look like a foreboding scene.

Just her grandmother sitting at their heirloom table, dressed in an aqua blue outfit made of soft material I’ve seen many elderly humans wear.

But I sense fear in my mate, and she stiffens beside me.

“What’s wrong, little bird?”

“I just wish we could get out of this house. This looks familiar again. Familiar but different. Why does it have to be Grams?”

“You are walking the road in order to beg Thanesia to allow your ancestors through the door. Is it so surprising that you’d face challenges involving your ancestors?”

“True.” She takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. We step forward into the kitchen. Instantly, the opening seals itself behind us.

“Are you a liar, Eloise?” the old woman snaps, her rheumy eyes roving to us a little too quickly to be human.

This being looks like Eloise’s grandmother but holds none of the warmth I know Nora Harcourt felt for my mate.

I’m not sure what this is, but it is not her grandmother, any more than the beast in the parlor was me.

My little bird approaches and places her hands on the back of the chair across the table from the thing.

It’s the place she often sat when we were in this kitchen. Her place.

“Why would you ask me that, Grams?”

“You promised me you’d stay. You promised me you’d raise your children here and be buried in Harcourt cemetery.”

Although fully green when we entered the room, a single leaf of the plant hanging in the window behind Eloise’s head turns brown and crumbles.

“Little bird,” I whisper. She glances at me, and I point to it. This is our ticking clock. Once the plant wilts, we’re out of time.

She nods once, then turns back to her grandmother, focusing on the task at hand. “Grams, would you like more tea?”

The old woman looks into her empty mug and frowns. Eloise turns around and reaches into a cupboard under the sink. She pulls out a chipped red pot and fills it with water. I watch vines of purple roses climb across the darkened window.

“I did promise you that I’d live in Harcourt Manor, that I’d have my children here, and that I’d be buried here.” Eloise starts the fire beneath the pot.

“You promised me,” the old woman hisses, and I don’t miss the atavistic rattle at the end of it. We’re in the Darklands, and this is some kind of demon. Some kind of dark magic.

Eloise sighs. “You always wanted what was best for me. You told me that you wanted me to find love again, and I did. Grams would be happy for me, for finding love again, for finding a mate.”

The old woman’s lips peel back from blackened teeth. Teeth that were white only a minute ago. “You promised me.”

Eloise takes her empty cup and carefully places a tea bag in it.

“I fell in love, Grams, and when I did what I had to do to defend the man I loved, I became a vampire. I can no longer have children. I can no longer walk in the sun. It wasn’t my choice to become like this, but that’s why I can’t fulfill my promise to you.

This body can no longer have children, and if I can’t walk in the sun, I can’t live in Echo Mills. I won’t ever grow old and die.”

The old woman’s hands gnarl, her nails growing sharper, like claws. “You promised me.”

Eloise turns around, the finished cup of tea in her hand. Tears stream down her face. “I did promise you, Grams, but I died. My human body died. And so, I can’t fulfill that promise. I’m sorry.”

“Guilty,” the thing hisses.

“But you promised you’d support me whatever I chose to do.

You promised it again and again, my entire life.

And you said I shouldn’t waste myself on someone who didn’t appreciate me.

Damien appreciates me. He loves me. So, Grams, if you were the real Grams, I know you’d be happy for me, and I also know that this is your favorite tea. ”

Eloise slides the mug in front of the old woman.

Behind her, the plant has withered. Only one green shoot remains.

The thing grasps the tea with its taloned fingers and drinks. When she returns the cup to the saucer, her fingers are human again, and the old woman’s face has softened.

“You could wish it to be true, Eloise,” the old woman says softly.

“When you reach the end of the road, instead of asking Thanesia to be reconnected with your power, you could wish for a beating heart. You could wish to be a shade and have Damien’s children.

Then your promise to me would be fulfilled. ”

A strangled sound comes from Eloise’s throat. Her eyes are locked with her false grandmother, and tears rain down her cheeks. “I can’t,” she rasps. “Stygarde is counting on me. Damien is counting on me. I need to connect with my power again to help him.”

The old woman cackles. “Even if you could access your power, without a beating heart, you’ll never be able to use it.”

“Eloise,” I whisper, as the final leaf grows brown. “Eloise, we’re out of time.”

But my mate is sobbing. “I’m sorry, Grams. I’m sorry.”

“The time for that is done, girl. You have condemned yourself.” The old woman rises, her fingernails sharpening again into talons.

I draw my sword.

“What’s happening to her?” Eloise cries, as the thing that looks like Grams splits its skin and bloody wings spread from the remains.

Once the transformation is complete, a hag’s face with a huge, hooked nose hangs from the body of a massive bird perched on the back of the chair the thing was just sitting in.

I lunge in front of Eloise, raising Dawnbreaker. “It’s a harpy. Stay back. Their bite is poisonous.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Eloise sobs.

“You can’t save her. You can’t even save your own kingdom,” the harpy squawks.

Shadows shoot out from me, climbing the walls and pointing sharp tendrils at the beast. “Try me.”

It lunges and I swing. Dawnbreaker slices through the thing’s neck like it’s made of butter.

Its bird-body flops on the table, blood spilling into the tea and across the floor.

Instantly, the room changes. The entryway appears again.

Reaching behind me, I usher Eloise toward the door along the far wall.

“Don’t let the blood touch you,” I warn, pushing her toward the exit. We leap over the spreading pool of blood.

“What will happen if the blood touches me?” she asks.

“Our legends say it burns like acid.”

We both look back when a crash rings through the cursed room.

The table has collapsed. Blood sizzles against the remains of the table legs where it continues to dissolve the wood.

I glance at the blood on my sword and wipe it off on a set of curtains in the adjoining hallway before I resheathe it on my back.

“Can we get out of here?” Eloise asks in a pitifully weak voice.

“We can try.” The truth is, I don’t know how many challenges we must face on this road. We might be done with Harcourt Manor, or we might find ourselves in the attic next. But I take her hand in mind and we keep going.

Our feet fall on the wooden planks of the hallway for what feels like a mile and then the wood turns to black bricks and the walls start to crumble away. We reach the back door of Harcourt Manor, and when I open it, we spill out onto the forest path. The road is just the road again.

I walk close to her as she wipes under her eyes. “I know that was terrifying, but we survived.”

“How many more of those do you think we have to face?”

“I don’t know. Catarina didn’t say how many she faced, but even if she had, it might not be the same, considering we’re together.”

She nods, our feet falling steadily in the silence.

After some time passes, she asks, “Damien, tell me something. Was she right?”

“Right? The harpy? That wasn’t even real.”

“It was real.”

“You mean the promise you made to your grandmother? You can’t hold yourself to that promise. Everything has changed.”

Her gaze finds mine as we walk shoulder to shoulder in the center of the road. “Does it bother you that I can’t have children? If we take back your kingdom but produce no heir, who will be king after you’re gone?”

I frown. “I am not concerned with such a distant future. To be sure, I would have been happy with you in that cottage on the side of the mountain, no kingdom or children to speak of.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Indubitably.”

She sighs deeply and wipes the rest of the tears from her face. “Then let’s finish this.”

We walk faster, toward whatever the shadowpath holds in store for us.