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Chapter Fifteen

ARABELLA

S omething chafed at Arabella’s wrists.

Even with the exhaustion weighing down her thoughts, she knew at once she was tied at her hands and feet.

“Don’t touch him,” came Jessamine’s voice from nearby.

Peeling her eyes open with great effort, Arabella took in her surroundings all at once.

She was in some sort of cave with uneven stone walls and a single exit at the far end.

There were six guards stationed at the entrance, all with dated swords or crude spears.

The cave was no bigger than a guest room in the House of Obscurities, and there was no furniture.

On the far wall, there was a single torch.

Breckett—also bound hand and foot—napped peacefully beside Arabella. Meanwhile, Jessamine was on her knees, spitting at a masked male who gripped an unconscious Hadeon by the throat. Her hands were bound behind her, and her ankles were also tied.

All of their weapons were gone.

“I suggest you listen to Enchantress Jessamine and put him down,” Arabella rasped. “I’d hate to kill someone I’ve just met.”

She hoped the bluff wasn’t as obvious as it felt. She doubted she could summon her shadows. Not without proper rest and food.

“I’ll see to you next,” the male hissed in Arabella’s direction. “It’s because of the Twilight Court that we’re here. Because of his kind.”

Shadow fae , she thought as relief washed over her. We found them.

The male wore leather armor, which was tied together with handmade laces. Both the armor and his leather boots seemed sturdy. His long brown hair was braided back at his temples, and he had a dark mask that covered his nose and mouth and looped behind pointed ears.

To her eyes, he looked no different from the other fae. Like those she’d met at the Twilight Court, this male possessed supernatural grace, long limbs, and pointed ears. Though his skin was fairer than those in the Twilight Court.

As the male lifted a blade to Hadeon’s neck, about to slice him open, she sighed.

It looked like he was calling her bluff after all.

Rolling onto her knees, she reached for her shadows. Immediately, a headache split her skull, and blood trickled from her nose. But she ignored it. There’d be time for pain later.

The shadows were slippery, and she nearly lost her grip on them.

But she managed to weave the dark into a narrow band of magic, which she lashed out at the male and wrapped around the hilt of his blade.

With a single pull, she yanked the weapon free, dropping it onto the floor.

Then she fell backward, unable to hold the shadows—or her own body up—for a moment longer.

The shadow fae warrior turned on her as her stomach growled loudly.

Rather than the anger she expected to see at her interruption, shock filled his gaze. He dropped Hadeon, who collapsed on the ground, groaning.

Pausing only to grab his blade, the warrior hurried out the single opening at the opposite end of the cave.

The warriors at the entrance, wearing matching leather armor and face masks, leveled narrowed gazes on them but didn’t approach.

Instead, they gripped spears and swords more tightly in their fists.

Turning, Arabella dry-heaved onto the cold stones. Nothing came up but bile.

“Fuck,” she hissed after it subsided. “I’m so hungry, I could eat my shoe.”

“Please don’t,” Jessamine said. In a dry tone, she added, “It won’t be good with your delicate constitution.”

Despite their rather dire circumstances and the fact they nearly died dozens of times since entering the Abyss, a twinkle of humor filled Jessamine’s eyes.

If she wasn’t so tired, Arabella might have laughed, but all she could manage was a small smile in return—which made her split lip throb. “Bitch.”

Jessamine snorted.

A thought struck Arabella.

“The zaol?” she asked.

Jessamine sighed heavily. “Alive. But it can’t break through the mist. Must be some type of magical ward.” She nodded to the guards at the cave’s entrance. “After they hauled us through, it roared for a time before turning away.”

There was a coughing sound, and Hadeon pulled himself upright, wincing. “It appears the shadow fae are still holding a grudge.”

By the look of him, the shadow fae must have knocked him around while Arabella had been passed out. Bruises peppered his jawline and cheeks, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. He also had a split lip.

Jessamine sniffed, sparing a glare at the prince. “If you’d been stuck in an underrealm, I imagine you’d be bitter about it, too.”

Arabella frowned.

The fae could live hundreds or even thousands of years.

So, some of the fae here might have been the very same who’d fought in the fae wars a few centuries ago.

That was assuming, of course, that time moved the same here as it did in the fae or mortal realms. Maybe these fae were descendants of those who’d sought refuge in this underrealm.

One brow raised, Hadeon’s gaze fixed on Jessamine. “Perhaps I’d be forgiving of my tardiness on account of sheer boredom. I can’t imagine they receive many guests here.”

Jessamine rolled her eyes before turning from him and scooting toward the wall where a stone jutted out. Eyes swiveling between the cave’s opening and the stone behind her, she moved her bonds against it, pressing back and forth with slow movements.

“Thank you,” Arabella said, turning to Hadeon. “For what you did with the zaol.”

He raised a brow, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Are you offering me another favor, Enchantress?”

“Fuck off,” she said flatly. “But since you mentioned it, I just saved you from your would-be assailant. So, let’s call it even for today.”

“I also saved his sorry ass,” Jessamine said, not taking her eyes from the cave’s entrance. “Don’t let the princeling act like he did all the work with the greater demon.”

“Speaking of which,” he said as he turned toward her. “You have quite a knack for being in places a moment before you’re needed.”

Jessamine’s eyes snapped up, sharper than the stone. But then the look faded as quickly as it appeared, and she returned to her bonds. “I’m good at what I do, Princeling. It’s my job.”

“Indeed,” he said noncommittally.

Footsteps sounded at the cave’s entrance, and Jessamine froze.

“It’s been quite some time, Prince Hadeon.”

The voice was as cool as the stones beneath Arabella’s palms and laced with the power of a slumbering dragon. Something in the room shifted, and it took her a moment to realize the shadows had moved. For once, it wasn’t toward her but away—toward the newcomer.

Looking up, her eyes fell upon a male with skin the color of the light side of the moon.

He appeared to be in his early thirties.

While he wasn’t as tall as Hadeon or Elias, he had broad shoulders and thick muscles across his entire body.

Like the fae warrior who’d fled earlier—and now stood behind him—his clothing was worn, but his leather armor was polished and sturdy.

His pale face was clean, and his long brown hair was braided back—not unlike Arabella’s braid.

Only, the sides of his head were shaved from his ear to his temples, and there were smaller braids throughout the rest of his hair.

However, unlike the other warriors, he’d lowered the mask over his face, which hung around his neck.

His gaze wasn’t fixed on her. Instead, his eyes fastened on Hadeon, who lounged casually against the cave wall—as though he’d asked to be bound hand and foot.

Arabella noted the rich brown color and shape of the newcomer’s eyes, his high cheekbones, and his long limbs that were somewhat similar to her own.

“Prince Arden,” Hadeon said. “It’s been too long.”

“Last I saw you, you’d dismissed my theories about this place,” Arden rumbled, and something flickered in his eyes. It was like the embers of a fire before it set fully aflame. “You and so many others mocked me, acted like you were amusing me. But I was right .”

“It would appear so,” Hadeon said. “I never doubted your belief.”

“But you doubted this place could be a reality,” Arden said.

Hadeon merely shrugged.

“Then you left me and the shadow fae to die on that field,” Arden continued, the embers in his gaze seeming to take on more heat.

“You knew your mother intended to kill all members of my court over some deluded belief that the shadow fae would wipe out the other courts, and you said nothing during our final meeting. I should kill you for that.” He gestured to the shadow fae warriors behind him—all masked, all with hate in their eyes.

“My warriors are eager for your blood. For revenge for what your mother did to us. How she forced us here.”

It was then Arabella realized that, even all these centuries later, the warriors who’d fought in the fae wars were very much alive. They weren’t descendants after all.

“Did you ever consider how you learned about my mother’s attack before her army arrived? How you had just enough time to decide where to take your final stand?” Hadeon asked in a bored tone. “One of your spies happened upon one of the queen’s scouts, did they not?”

Brows furrowing, Arden seemed uncertain for the first time.

“I couldn’t be seen aiding you, old friend,” Hadeon said.

Arabella frowned.

Was Hadeon implying that he’d arranged having scouts captured to give Arden a warning of what Genoveva was doing?

Arden crossed muscled arms over his chest. “Then what took you so long to pay us a visit? It would seem after a thousand years, you’ve forgotten about us.”

As Hadeon looked up at Arden, she could see that clever mind of his taking in this new information.

“It’s been five hundred years since the fae wars,” Hadeon said carefully. “In the fae realm, that is. A thousand years have passed here?”