Page 39 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely (A Curse of Fallen Stars #1)
Lorel
I let go of the silence and the dark smothers me.
I reach for Orielle in the dark, for where she had been behind me and fear grips my chest. I do not know if my lover will make much distinction between friend and foe.
The screams start behind me, a horrific choir, each voice choked off one by one.
Gasping and flailing. There is the sound of things— bodies— hitting the table, pushing chairs as they fall. Cutlery clattering to the floor.
“Orielle—” I stumble in the dark, reaching.
“Lorel—” Orielle’s hand finds mine, and then it’s slipping away.
I trip on something soft and warm. Edrian. I push myself away from him.
The shadows shift and they are solid, physical things as they come around me.
They pull me back further, sliding across the floor.
They shift and shape themselves like a creature hunched over its prize.
There are the sounds of a scuffle. Whatever Sila is doing, she cannot make purchase on the Dawn King.
Perhaps if I had held the silencing longer— but no, I can already feel the rising fever under my skin.
There is a very real risk I might lose consciousness.
“Enough,” says the Dawn King, sharp.
Orielle cries out as a sudden light flares.
It sears at my eyes and forces me to turn my head away or risk being blinded.
The light glances off Sila’s horrific visage, the shape of her where she crouches over me.
It reflects off the blood and her long sharp teeth, illuminates her strange pale face, and glittering dark eyes.
Reveals the remains of the body of Beryl, strewn across the floor where Sila had left her.
She shifts, her long talons clicking against the marble.
Everything is still in the room. The King’s courtiers lie in various states over the table, blood soaking into the linen, dyeing it red.
The Dawn King’s light shines in their dull, dead stares.
There is only me, and Sila, Orielle, and the Dawn King.
As the intensity of the light fades, the King stands there, glowing faintly.
Orielle is hiding her face in her free arm, grimacing against the light.
Orielle’s wrist is caught in his hand, and twisted cruelly.
She is powerless— the Dawn King is the one person Orielle’s own light and magic cannot work against.
I cry out to her, and Sila shifts, putting herself— or part of herself— between us. The Dawn King looks at Sila and for a long, quiet moment, nothing happens.
“Prisilla,” says the Dawn King. There is something ancient in his voice. A knowing that is older than I can fathom. “That’s it, isn’t it? You were as eager to die then as you are now.” He tips his chin up, looking between us. “Though it seems you have something to live for now. How interesting.”
“Spare me your thoughts, Usurper. I do not care,” hisses Sila. “I’ll be taking what is mine now.”
“Orielle—” I start, trying to push myself up. That familiar burning feeling is settling in now, like my body has become a flame. I can feel it darkening the edges of my consciousness. Weighing down my limbs and making it hard to move. I taste blood, fresh on my tongue, still dripping from my nose.
“This Dawnchild stays with me,” the Dawn King says. “As she promised.”
No. I can’t leave her here. Not now. I rage against my body as it tries to drag me under. Urges me to rest. To quiet. I feel as if I am drowning.
“Go,” Orielle says, pleading. She isn’t looking at me when she speaks. Her eyes are locked instead on Sila’s face somewhere above me. “Take her and get her out of here. Please.”
“Yes,” the Dawn King says. “Go now, fallen one. Let us see what havoc you wreak.”
Sila snarls. She doesn’t wait to be told again.
“No, Orielle—” I think I try to reach for her, I don’t know anymore. I can’t feel my fingers.
“I love you. Always,” Orielle calls as Sila’s shadows come around me.
Her arms are firm and solid and real as they hold me. I jam my eyes and mouth shut as Sila drags me into the shadows and away from the Dawn King’s marble palace.