Page 34 of Battle for the Shadow Prince (A Bargain with the Shadow Prince #2)

34

The Serpent & the Garden

ELOISE

T he night of the full moon brings a trio of red-robed scribes to Marabella’s to usher me to the palace. I’m nervous but as ready as I can be. After I trained with Damien, Marabella supplied me with not one but two of her recovery shakes. I’m as strong as I’ve ever been.

The scribes form a triangle around me as we parade through the marketplace toward the challenge. I have flashbacks to that episode of Game of Thrones when Cersei has to walk naked through town, but no one screams profanities at me or throws rotten vegetables. No one rings a bell and announces shame repeatedly at my side. Surprisingly, the many vampires and the rarer human companions who watch my procession wear a mixture of curiosity and cynicism in their expressions. I’m not sure what that means.

Damien follows behind us in his monster form. Maybe his considerable presence is the cause of the silence. No one in their right mind would ever voluntarily piss him off.

At the scribe’s direction, I navigate a series of halls to reach the silo. It’s exactly as I remember it from my dream, only without the walls of sunlight or my mate huddled in the center like a boulder. Instead, Lazarus stands at a small podium with an ornately decorated box that looks similar but not identical to the one Sabrina showed me. The octagonal mirrors are placed on the floor on either side of him, spaced about eight feet to his left and right. He gestures for Damien to join him, and my mate takes a spot next to the scribe.

As if on cue, Valeska enters, similarly escorted by three scribes in red robes. I silently laugh to myself. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. She no longer looks like a queen but a competitor. No fanfare. No elaborate dress. In fact, she’s dressed similarly to me. I’m in the fighting gear that Cassius obtained for me—black tactical pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her pants are leather but her black mock turtleneck gives the same general affect. We both have daggers strapped to our thighs. Her black hair is in a ponytail. Mine is braided and bright red. We might be dressed the same, but we are very, very different, and I’m not stupid enough to underestimate how deadly she is.

“It’s worth it just to see her like that,” a man behind me whispers.

I pretend to scratch my cheek with my shoulder and see him rapidly exchanging money for tiny slips of paper, some white, some blue. They’re betting on this trial. I don’t know which color paper represents me, but there are plenty of both colors gripped in people’s fingers, which means Valeska, at least in these vampires’ minds, isn’t foreseen to be the clear winner. I hold on to that thought like a talisman as a radiant yellow moon rises over the edge of the silo on a path toward its apex.

“Challengers, step forward,” Lazarus announces as he opens an enormous tome to the place where it’s marked with a red silk ribbon. “Eloise, as the challenger and Damien’s current mate, you will roll the position dice first. The highest number wins.”

I step to the box, and he hands me a six-sided die that appears to be made from scored bone. I toss it into the cloth-lined box.

“Make a note that Eloise Harcourt has rolled a four,” Lazarus says to the scribe who sits at a small table near the wall, scribbling furiously. “Now you, Valeska.”

The vampire queen does not look at me as she takes the die and rolls it. She hisses when it lands.

“Note that Valeska has rolled a two,” Lazarus says. “Eloise, you will roll for the challenge and be the first to choose a doorway.”

I nod.

Lazarus turns to the crowd that has lined the walls three rows deep and raises his red-robed arms. “Provocationem Ad Mortem is a game fueled by ancient magic, designed to protect our most sacrosanct bond, the one between mates. As such, each challenger will be required to prove their worthiness of the bond. The magic will harvest challenges based on Damien’s own memories. The competitors will solve the challenge and return through the archway. The magic will assign a winner based on their individual performance.” He gestures toward the large rectangular mirror on the top of the box.

The harvest moon rises a bit higher, and moonlight falls on the two octagonal mirrors. A blinding flash sends a murmur through the crowd, and then two identical archways stand where the mirrors once were. Lazarus mumbles something that sounds like a curse.

Each is made of ancient, worn stone, chiseled with barely recognizable arcane symbols. The tattoo on my back tingles with awareness as if the symbols that make up my sigil recognize the power of those chiseled in the archway. I try to make out the specific designs, but the ravages of time have left the grooves shallow. The sides rise like pillars toward a gentle arch with a square keystone at its apex. One such stone bears a symbol like a star, the other a crescent moon. Rippling darkness fills each archway like two dark, oil-slicked pools.

“Eloise, if you will do the honors.”

I take two dice from Lazarus’s hand. These are also made of bone but look more like Dungeons & Dragons dice than anything that might belong in a casino. The sides are not numbered but bear a series of sigils the likes of which I’m not familiar. Anxious to get this over with, I toss the dice.

They land with a red x and purple fish facing up. I have no idea what that means, but the large mirror at the back of the box turns smoky. When the white haze parts, a woman in a gown and elaborate pearl earrings is running through a forest, laughing. She looks over her shoulder, and I get a clear view of her face. This is Damien’s mother. I’ve never met her. Never seen a picture. But I just know it’s her. The resemblance is striking. She smiles, and one of her earrings drops from her ear. A close-up of the earring fills the mirror and then vanishes.

Valeska growls. “So we are to recover this… this woman’s earring?” She flicks her red nails at the looking glass.

Lazarus frowns. “I’m afraid I cannot provide assistance to you, my queen.”

Is it possible that Valeska didn’t notice Damien’s likeness in the woman’s dark hair and diamond-colored eyes? That is Nyxadora, I’m sure of it, although I suppose it could also be his sister Karyl. No. Not with that dress and that crown. That was the queen. I close my eyes and picture the pearl earring, made from a dozen blue pearls strung together into a geometric pattern. Damien said his mother and father used to hunt behind their castle. It did look like a forest behind her where it fell off.

“Eloise, you are the first to choose.”

I look at the moon archway. Where before there was only rippling darkness, now lies a dark green forest with what could be snow on the ground. The queen was running in a forest, but I’m sure Tenebris has many wooded areas. I don’t think this is the same one. The way Damien speaks about his world, snow is limited to the mountains. I don’t remember seeing any snow behind Nyxadora in the scene the mirror played for us. Furthermore, wouldn’t someone as important as the queen hunt close to home, especially since the kingdom was at war? I’m presuming a lot, but what other way might I make a decision?

I turn my attention to my other option. Under the star archway, it’s also green but there’s no snow. A path and a lone purple rose are visible within. I take a deep breath. I remember purple roses from Damien’s dream of the castle garden. If I end up near the castle, I should be able to find the forest where the queen most likely lost her earring.

Fisting my hands, I choose the star archway and its purple rose. As I approach the arch, I notice the octagonal mirror is gone, replaced by a stone threshold with characters I recognize as vampiric Romanian. I can’t read what it says, but I can only imagine it is some terrible warning. I take a deep, fortifying breath and then step over them, ready for wherever this challenge takes me.

The stone of the silo’s floor gives way to an artfully designed pathway that leads into a garden. I walk toward the purple rose and then look back toward the archway I just walked through. It’s gone. The only thing in that direction is a steep garden wall. For three solid seconds, I worry that something went wrong. How will I get back? And then common sense kicks in. If the archway opened magically when I rolled the dice, it will most certainly open for me again when I find the earring.

I continue along the winding path, walls of trellised flowers and vines making me feel like I’m in a labyrinth, until the space opens up to what I was hoping to find. The castle from Damien’s dream rises beside a garden of strange foliage and purple flowers. I will never forget this place. I smile at the bench where we made love, the place where he showed me the moon. Just as he promised, it looms large and dark yellow on the horizon and lights up the garden like a muted sun.

“Phantom?” I reach out with my power, and the fox appears in front of me, my connection to it snapping into place like a dull buzz.

“Darling, what can we help you with?”

“Is there anyone who knows a spell to find an object?”

The fox stares off into the distance for a moment, emerald eyes glowing. “Yes, but you’ll need a pendulum.”

A pendulum… I need a string and a weight. I quickly search the garden, but can’t find anything of use. I turn my attention to what I’m wearing. My boots have laces, but I’m not sure how long I’ll need to walk to find the earring. I’ll need well-fitting shoes. I might be able to use my hair. I draw one of my daggers, fully prepared to cut a chunk of my red locks out to braid into rope, but as I do, my fingers brush a decorative orange zipper pull on one of my pockets. I grab it and inspect it more closely. “Thank you, Cassius.”

Cassius chose these pants for me. I’ve never worn tactical gear before, but the many pockets and the ability for the fabric to dry quickly seemed like a wise choice. Now I appreciate them on a whole new level. I unclasp the end of the pull and unbraid the cord. When I’m done, I’m left with three feet of line. I snatch a stone from the walkway and tie it to the end.

“Ready,” I say to Phantom.

“Hold it out in front of you, darling, and picture the earring clearly in your mind. Pour some energy into it,” Phantom says in my grandmother’s stop-messing-around voice. “Aunt Sara is going to help you.”

Red haze filters through the darkness, bringing with it a light shower of ash and the scent of smoke. I feel a tug on the bond. All at once, I regret not practicing my magic the past few weeks. Our connection feels heavy, like I’m bench-pressing my own weight. I grunt as a woman I’ve never met before emerges from Phantom’s body in all her translucent, black-and-white glory. Her dress has lace-tied sleeves and an apron, reminiscent of a renaissance fair. I can only imagine how far back our blood ties go. There are definitely no pictures of Aunt Sara on our gallery wall. Pins and needles strike through my hand as she merges into me from the elbow down, but the effect is immediate. The stone tugs me left. I take off across a dark field as Sara sinks back into Phantom.

The grass here is strange. It feels like I’m running on kitchen sponges. My boots squelch and spring off the strange mounds of green. With my Aunt Sara back inside Phantom, the heaviness I experienced before is gone, and I’m able to pick up speed, my energy returning. The stone guides me to the edge of a lake, pulling toward the water. It’s too dark to see anything beneath the surface even at the edge. For all I can tell, this could be water or an oil slick.

“Um, what now?” I glance toward Phantom. “Do we have a spell to summon it from the bottom?”

Phantom paces again and then shakes his head. “Not without a drawn sigil. We don’t think you’ll have time for that, darling. Valeska is fast and doesn’t have to breathe. She doesn’t have the magic you have to find the earring, but she can cover more ground and has unparalleled senses.”

Anxiety shoots through me again, and I toe off my shoes and socks. When my bare feet hit the curled grass, I shudder at the feeling. “I’ll just have to wade in. If it’s on the bottom, maybe I’ll feel it with my toes.”

“That’s the spirit,” Phantom says encouragingly.

The last thing I want to do is plod into the mysterious depths in front of me, but Phantom is right, I have to assume Valeska is moving faster. I can’t stall. I dip my toe under the surface of the water, expecting it to be cold. “It’s warm as a bath but more viscous than water, almost like soup.” I step forward. “The bottom is smooth but striated, kind of like I’m walking on fallen branches. It’s not bad.”

“Follow the stone,” Phantom reminds me.

I watch the pendulum and move in the direction the stone points. The bank angles deeper, the water coming to my knees and then my waist and then my chest. The slick black fluid is more buoyant than regular water. I guess it has a higher salt content based on the scent, like standing next to the ocean.

When the water comes up to my chin, I regret not having stripped out of my clothes. I’m going to have to swim. A few experimental positions and I figure out that the easiest way to follow the stone’s direction is if I float on my back. I kick in the direction it pulls me. A few minutes later, the pendulum goes lax, the stone hanging straight down toward my chest. A smile spreads across my face. The earring is directly under me.

I allow my feet to sink under the water and am surprised that although I’m in the center of the small lake, I touch the bottom. I start searching with my toes again. It’s smooth here, almost slimy. I tuck the pendulum into one of my pockets so that I can use my arms to guide me as I feel around with my toes for the earring. My foot hits a stony outcropping. I feel my way around it to another section, similarly slimy. This part dips when I put my weight on it. Then the entire bottom shifts beneath my feet.

“What the hell?” I look down but see nothing but black.

I glance back at Phantom. Maybe we can illuminate the water. But before I can speak, something clamps around my middle. I have a half second to gulp air before whatever it is pulls me under.

Eyes closed under the inky water, I twist and turn, reaching for my dagger. I’m tossed about like a rag doll. Water streams over my skin, growing colder, heavier around me.

We’re moving quickly, diving deeper.

I give in and open my eyes but can’t see anything in the dark depths. I can feel it though. I’m held by a creature with the flesh of a fish and a mouth big enough to span from my bottom rib to mid-thigh. My lungs burn for air as I place my hand on top of what I assume is its head and start punching. My fist lands in something soft—an eye, I hope. It releases me. I grab for my dagger and have just enough time for my fingers to graze the hilt before I’m captured again.

I bend, impaling the back of my thigh on what I assume is a tooth, but I get hold of the knife and drive it home. Am I stabbing its neck? Its ear? Its head? I have no idea, but I stab again and again and again.

It releases me and I swim to the surface, drawing a loud, gasping breath into my lungs. Water rushes by me and then curls, a ripple bending along the surface as the creature turns and heads straight for me. I raise my dagger and plunge it into the ripple. Resistance as the blade sinks deep. I try to pull it out for another stab, but it’s stuck in the creature’s leathery hide. The thing passes me, pulls me along behind it at a frightening speed. I tug and tug again.

“Fuck!” Another quick breath. It dives. I refuse to lose my dagger. I need it. This is only the first trial! I hold the hilt in a death grip—one I hope won’t be my literal death—as I slide the second dagger from its holster. Bracing my feet on the creature, I stab and rip. Stab and rip. Stab and rip. The creature thrashes and then slows. We’re sinking but not as quickly. The thing twitches erratically, swimming in a circle.

I look up toward the surface, seeing the moon’s glow. I need to breathe, but I can’t let whatever this thing is out of my reach. The stone pointed toward it. What if the earring is in its stomach?

I reach for my bond with Phantom and feel a familiar buzz start. It’s heavy—so, so heavy—but the water moves, pushing me, lifting me and the beast toward the surface. I cough and sputter as my face breaks free of the water, my hands holding the hilts of my daggers with everything I have left. My magic moves the water, pushing me and the creature toward shore. A yard, two yards. This is nothing like making a wave lap in a bowl. This feels like I’m dragging the entire lake. I fix my eyes on Phantom’s glowing green stare, my mother’s witchy energy buzzing down my side.

My teeth grit against the agony of the effort. I push and push and push until the current I’ve created washes me and the beast held in my daggers onto the rocky beach. We wash up next to Phantom, and I roll off the thing, flopping onto my back and heaving air into my lungs in great hungry gulps. I close my eyes for a second, but Phantom is there, licking my face.

“Get up now, Eloise. Now!” my Grams’s voice snaps.

I obey, but it’s difficult. My ribs hurt, and I’m bleeding from the back of the leg. Something hot oozes over my chin, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Blood. My nose is bleeding. I’ve overused my magic. That explains the dark spots circling in my vision.

Fighting the urge to lie back down. I lean over the thing that attacked me, bracing myself on its side. The closest to anything from earth I can compare it to is a salamander if salamanders grew as large as whales. Two tusks protrude from its lower jaw. That must be what impaled the back of my leg.

I plunge my dagger into its belly, praying that I’m right and the earring is inside the beast and not on the floor of the lake under where I met this thing. I cut and cut and cut. Guts pour out around my feet. Quickly I open the creature’s stomach.

The earring washes across the stones in a burst of fluid.

I slide both my daggers back into their sheaths and snatch it from the rocks. The dark spots swirling in my vision grow larger. I sway on my feet.

“Hurry, darling!” Phantom urges.

The star archway forms only a few feet away from me, and the fox tugs me by the pant leg toward it. On wobbling legs, I sway toward the opening and launch myself over the threshold.

Back in the silo, there’s a collective gasp from the observers when they see me and I toss the earring into the box in front of Lazarus. I don’t see Valeska.

“Did I win?”

The floor bends up to slap my cheek, and then everything goes dark.