Page 10 of Song of the Shadow Prince (The Dragon’s Ballad #1)
9
DAMIEN
I received Thorne’s message late in the evening. The raven arrived under a cloak of shadows so it wouldn’t be seen by my father’s guards, who vigilantly patrolled the island. I was only allowed to leave Obsidian Reach one twenty-four-hour period on the third Sunday of every month to gather whatever supplies or food I may need. Normally Uncle Bai handled that for me while I did other things, but ever since I retrieved my dragon bones and could shift, I’ve used them to sneak off the island without being seen.
At night, under the cover of darkness, no one could see a black dragon flying across the sky. It was why many on the mainland called me the Shadow Prince.
The Gilded Serpent was an opulent, multi-storied building with intricate carvings of serpents winding around its pillars and doorframes. The warm glow from lanterns and candles spilled through the brothel’s windows, casting golden light on the cobblestone street outside. The entrance was flanked by two enormous brass snake statues, their eyes glinting menacingly in the light.
Inside, the air was redolent with the scent of exotic spices, wine, and perfume. Sumptuous tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of indulgence and revelry. Plush cushions and low tables filled the main hall, where patrons lounged and enjoyed the company of the brothel’s women.
The women of the Gilded Serpent were renowned for their beauty and allure. Surveying the room, I watched them move gracefully among the guests. One woman with flowing auburn hair and a mischievous smile whispered something into a nobleman’s ear, making him laugh heartily. Another with striking blue eyes and long, raven-black hair was pouring wine for a group of merchants, her every movement deliberate and seductive.
I made my way through the bustling first floor of the Gilded Serpent, surrounded by the low hum of conversations, the soft strumming of a lute, and the occasional burst of laughter. Flickering candlelight illuminated the rich tapestries and plush cushions that adorned the main hall.
Navigating through the dense throng of patrons and women, I climbed the grand staircase that led to the second floor. The steps were made of dark, polished wood that creaked underfoot, and the banister was intricately carved with serpentine patterns. As I ascended, the noise from below faded, replaced by a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.
The second floor was more subdued, with fewer people and a more refined ambiance. The hallway was lined with closed doors, each leading to private rooms reserved for patrons who sought discretion. Ornate sconces were placed along the walls to chase away the shadows, and earthy, spicy incense wafted through the air with each step.
I reached the door to the private room I’d reserved and slipped inside, shutting the door behind me with a gentle click. The room was luxurious, with thick, golden drapes hanging from the windows and walls paneled with dark wood. A large, plush rug covered the floor, and a low table was set with a selection of fine wines and fruits.
I removed the hood of my cloak and untied it, then draped it over one of the lounge chairs that flanked the room. The chairs were upholstered in opulent fabric, their cushions soft and inviting. I sat down and sank into the comfortable seat and surveyed the room.
In one corner, a girl played a soft melody on her lute. Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders as her delicate fingers lightly danced over the strings. Her eyes were downcast, focused on her instrument, and the music she produced was both haunting and soothing.
In the center of the room, another girl danced, her sheer garments clinging to her curves and leaving little to the imagination. Her movements were fluid and graceful, her eyes meeting mine with a playful glint as she swayed to the lute’s seductive rhythm. The dim light accentuated the contours of her figure, creating an atmosphere of intimate allure.
Just as I was making myself comfortable, the door swung open and a cloaked figure walked in. A wry grin was revealed the instant he removed his hood. “Brother!” he greeted.
Prince Thorne cut a striking figure. He was tall and lean, with an athletic build that spoke of years of rigorous training. His dark hair, which he usually kept immaculately groomed, was slightly disheveled from his journey, lending a roguish charm. He wore a dark, travel-worn cloak over a finely tailored tunic and breeches, both of which bore subtle signs of wear. His boots, caked with mud from the road, were sturdy and practical, designed for long journeys. Despite his slightly rumpled appearance, an air of nobility clung to him, a confidence that came from knowing he could handle whatever the world threw at him as the Crown Prince.
His sharp, piercing blue eyes quickly scanned the room before returning to me with a familiar intensity in his gaze. Thorne moved with the quiet grace of a predator, each step deliberate and controlled. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the faint noise from downstairs, and approached with a nod of acknowledgment as he sat opposite me.
“Brother,” I repeated by way of greeting. “What has you pulling me out of seclusion?” I asked with a raised brow.
He snorted. “As if you don’t sneak out on your own already,” he chided. Glancing at the dancing girl, his eyes appreciatively roved her exposed body.
I poured myself some wine. “That might be so, but I try not to make it a regular thing.”
Although Thorne was my older brother, I only met him forty years earlier. He’d sent a message through Uncle Bai, expressing his interest to meet and get to know one another. None of my other siblings had ever bothered to do so. I was skeptical at the time, especially since Thorne was the first prince, the Crown Prince, the heir apparent, the next in line for the throne. What could he possibly want with me , the one who killed his mother? But there was no bad blood between us. According to Uncle Bai, he’d frequently asked about me over the years and had been waiting for the perfect time to approach.
Thorne relaxed into the chair, the soft cushions barely making a sound under his weight. His eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and concern as he turned his attention back to me. “There’s a disturbance in the valley,” he began, his tone growing serious. “Something big is happening, and it could affect us all.”
The gravity of his words hung in the air. I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued. “What kind of disturbance?”
Thorne took a deep breath, his piercing gaze never leaving mine. “On the surface, it doesn’t look like much; just a bunch of court officials conspiring with one another. But when you dig deeper, it has all the markings of a cleverly orchestrated rebellion. A group has been forming, gathering support from officials, including those of the vampires and fae. They’re planning something significant, and if they succeed, it could throw Elaria into chaos.”
“Are we talking about the emperor’s officials?” I rubbed my chin in contemplation.
Thorne nodded. “Our father’s officials. They’re supposed to be helping him make decisions when it comes to the laws and regulations here in Elaria, but it appears they’re trying to undermine his rule, instead.”
I frowned as the weight of his revelation sank in. “Who’s behind it?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Thorne admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. “All I know for sure is that they’re well-organized and well-funded. We need to be prepared for whatever comes next.”
I nodded, understanding the urgency. “What do you need from me?”
“I need to know how they’re earning their money,” Thorne said, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Whoever is behind this is paying off the council and ministers, controlling the court and essentially controlling our father. It doesn’t look good, Damien.” He glanced at the two women, well aware they often earned extra money by selling secrets, and pitched his voice lower so they wouldn’t hear. “If we’re not careful, this could throw Elaria into another war.”
“You mean your father,” I said snidely. Turning away, I took a long drink of the spicy wine.
Thorne rolled his eyes. “Don’t be petty, Damien. He is your father as well.”
“He’s all but disowned me!” I whipped my gaze in his direction. “I’m no son of his.”
Thorne sighed as he poured a glass of wine and took a drink. “I know you don’t like to get involved in court politics,” he said, changing the subject, “but you’re gifted at hiding in the shadows, Damien. You can go places without being seen and collect information that even my best spies are unable to gather. And best of all, no one recognizes you. I could use your help.”
I pursed my lips together and my attention drifted to the dancing girl who intently watched me. Her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of blue that glittered in the dim light like sapphires. She moved with an effortless grace, every step calculated to draw the eye. The sheer fabric of her garments clung to her body, accentuating her curves as she twirled and swayed.
Our eyes met and she flashed a playful smile, her lips curling into a teasing grin. She took a step closer, her hips swaying provocatively as she danced. I couldn’t help but admire the way she moved, her body telling a story that was both seductive and enigmatic. She bent over to offer a tantalizing view of her cleavage, her hair cascading over her shoulders like a silken waterfall.
I leaned back in my chair with a smirk tugging the corners of my mouth as I watched her. She took my reaction as encouragement, dancing even more boldly. The lute’s melody grew softer, more intimate, as if weaving a spell around us. The dancer twirled again, this time lightly trailing her fingers over my shoulder as she passed. A shiver ran down my spine at her touch and I felt a surge of attraction. She was close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body and smell the faint, intoxicating perfume she wore.
The girl leaned in, her breath brushing against the shell of my ear. “Enjoying the show, my lord?” she whispered, her voice a sultry purr.
I chuckled softly, tilting my head to meet her gaze. “It’s certainly a welcome distraction from others I’d prefer not to see,” I replied, my tone equally playful.
Thorne rolled his eyes and groaned. “Damnit, Damien. You’ve been on that island too long if you’re seeking company in a brothel,” he deadpanned. “What happened to that… Lady Gianna?”
I glared at him for his not-so-friendly reminder of my failed plan for freedom. “Forget about Lady Gianna,” I grumbled and turned back to the dancer. “What’s your name?” I asked, my voice low.
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Lysandra. And you, my lord?”
I brushed my thumb over her knuckles. “Damien. Tell me, Lysandra, do you always captivate your audience so thoroughly?”
She laughed, a light, musical sound that sent a thrill through me. “Only when the audience is worth captivating.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And am I worth captivating?”
Lysandra leaned in again, her lips hovering near my ear. “That depends,” she murmured. “Are you worth my time?”
I laughed, genuinely amused. “I suppose that’s for you to decide.”
Our flirtation was interrupted by Thorne clearing his throat, his expression a mix of exasperated amusement. “Damien, focus,” he said, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
I reluctantly released Lysandra’s hand and gave her a wink. “Perhaps we’ll continue this conversation later.”
She stepped back gracefully with a knowing smile. “I’ll be here, my lord.”
As she returned to her dance, her eyes occasionally flicking toward me, I turned my attention back to my brother. “Alright,” I said, my tone more serious. “Tell me what you need.”
Thorne’s eyes brightened. “If all you needed was some female attention to sway you to my cause, I would have bought you a dozen women!” he said, happy now that I’d agreed to help.
“Hurry before I change my mind,” I said dryly as I pretended to clean underneath my nails.
He clapped his hands and sat up. “Right! The vampires,” he began. “I received a tip that they’re running a business through the Underclaw Market.”
I frowned and reached for the fruit tray, popping a grape in my mouth. “That’s the black market. It’s not surprising that they would run a shady business through there. It’s near the Nightfall Citadel, which is their territory. Why are you worried about that?”
“I traced some of the payments made to the ministers of the court and they all came from the Underclaw Market, specifically, from a vampire named Horatio. But the accounting books didn’t specify what business they were dealing in.”
I gave my brother a stern look. “In other words, you don’t know if the money is clean or not.”
His eyes widened. “It’s coming from the Underclaw. Of course it’s not clean!”
I tsked. “Not all business there is bad business. Some of it is legitimate.”
He sighed. “Either way, can you look into it for me? Someone is paying off these court officials and circumventing our father’s rule. It’s not good.”
“Have you tried telling our— your father?”
Thorne chugged the rest of his wine before answering. “I have, but he doesn’t believe me. He trusts these officials because he believes they are friends.”
“An emperor has no friends,” I corrected, peering over at my brother to remind him of his future.
Thorne swallowed nervously. “I know,” he whispered.
I nodded. “I’ll look into it and get back to you.” I popped another grape into my mouth. “Anything else?”
Thorne shook his head. “Thank you, brother. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help. There’s no one else in the valley I can trust.”
“Are you sure you want to trust me?” I peered over at him. He didn’t know about my twin flame mark or what it meant for his future, and I didn’t plan on telling him. I didn’t plan on telling anyone. It was best if no one knew. And if Thorne’s obliviousness about Lady Gianna was any indication, my father also didn’t want anyone to know.
Thorne watched me intently for a moment before speaking. “Yes, Damien, I’m sure I want to trust you. I know you would never betray me.”
“Let’s hope not.” When I stood, Thorne followed suit. “It’s best if you leave first. I think I’m going to stay a little longer.” I sent a lingering look over at Lysandra.
Thorne snorted. “Of course, brother. Have fun.” He winked, grabbed his cloak, and covered his head with the hood. “Behave yourself,” he joked, then strode out the door.
I shut the door behind him, and the girl playing the lute stopped playing and exited the room through the back door, leaving me alone with Lysandra. I sat back down on the lounge chair. “Did you listen?”
Lysandra collapsed onto the chair beside me and lounged lazily, resting one arm along the back of the chaise to hold up her head. “Yes, I heard, my lord,” she sighed. “Would you like me to follow up?”
I nodded. “Do any vampires come here to The Gilded Serpent?”
She shook her head. “Not many, but we do receive special requests for private affairs at the Nightfall Citadel. I can have one of my girls go and dig around.”
“Good.” I leaned my head back on the chair and blew out a breath. “Whatever you hear about the Underclaw Market, I want to know about it. Even if you think it’s not important, pass the information along.”
“Yes, my lord,” she purred as she crawled across the lounge chair toward me. “Do you need me to service you tonight?”
I brushed her away, feeling a ripple of disgust. “No,” I clipped out before standing to leave. I was only putting on a show for my brother. He needed to see me in a certain light so he wouldn’t know who I truly was.
“My lord?” Lysandra grabbed my sleeve. “It’s been years,” she whispered. “Have I done something wrong?”
I gently pulled my sleeve from her grasp and wrapped my cloak around my shoulders. Shaking my head, I said, “I know what you want from me, Lysandra, but you won’t get it, as alluring as you are. What we have is a business transaction. No matter how much you wish it, I won’t fall in love with you. I don’t know how.” I turned my gaze away from her, but I didn’t miss the unshed tears glimmering in her sapphire eyes. “You might as well give up now.”
With those parting words, I exited the room.
Keeping to the shadows, I navigated the bustling nightlife area with silent, deliberate steps. The taverns still buzzed with activity, and raucous laughter and drunken shouts spilled out of their doorways. Stale ale and sweat lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of roasted meat from a nearby food stall.
I skirted around a group of revelers, their faces flushed with drink as they stumbled out of a tavern, singing loudly and off-key. Further down the street, a couple argued loudly outside a shabby inn, their voices echoing off the walls. I slipped past them, my ears tuned to any sound that might signal danger. Just as I neared the edge of the district, ready to shift into my dragon form and fly toward Obsidian Reach, a familiar voice caught my attention. I paused, straining to hear.
“Arya?” I murmured under my breath, incredulous.
Peering around the corner of a building, I saw her standing in a dimly lit alley, her posture tense and defensive. Facing her was a tall figure with pale skin and sharp features—undeniably a vampire. His eyes glowed faintly red in the darkness. Looming over Arya, his expression was one of irritation.
“Lady Arya, we’ve been more than patient,” the vampire spoke, his voice smooth and cold. “You promised the piece would be ready days ago. Where is it?”
Arya’s eyes darted around, her confusion evident. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered. “What piece?” She looked over at her servant Maeve, who shrugged and nervously nibbled her lip.
“I don’t know, my lady,” Maeve whispered. “You never associate with vampires; I don’t know what he could be talking about—”
The vampire’s eyes narrowed and he took a step closer, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “The art piece, Lady Arya. The one commissioned monthly. You’re late, and we’re not pleased.”
Panic flickered across Arya’s face. “There must be a mistake. I haven’t been working on any art piece. I don’t even know how to draw!” She laughed and cast an anxious glance at Maeve.
The vampire’s expression hardened. “A mistake? I think not. You’ve been working for us for the last two years, so don’t play coy. You were given a significant advance for this commission. Where is the piece? If you don’t have it, then where is the money?”
I realized Arya was involved in something much deeper than anyone possibly realized. Maybe Arya wasn’t lying, and she truly had lost her memories. The girl looked absolutely lost.
“I don’t have it!” Arya exclaimed, her voice filled with frustrated annoyance.
The vampire sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Very well. If you cannot produce the painting and you won’t give us back the money, you will pay with your body. That was the deal. Your choice, Lady Arya.”
Arya scoffed. “That’s not an option.”
At her words, three more vampires stepped out of the inky shadows, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Arya glanced around, her confidence wavering when she realized the odds were against her.
The vampire tilted his head, intrigued. “There are no other options.”
Arya chuckled with a confidence she shouldn’t have. “Of course there is. There’s option three.” Arya set her jaw and a determined glint entered her eyes. “Maeve, run !” She pushed her servant in the opposite direction.
Maeve hesitated for a split second before bolting down the alley and disappearing into the night. The vampires chuckled darkly as they advanced on Arya.
I watched from the shadows in rapt fascination as Arya took a deep breath and steadied herself. She was no pushover. When the first vampire lunged, she gracefully sidestepped and delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs. He doubled over in pain and surprise flickered across his features, which gave her enough time to kick his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.
The second vampire rushed her, but Arya was ready. She spun around, her leg sweeping in a wide arc to connect with his jaw. The force of the kick sent him staggering back, his fangs bared in a snarl. She followed up with a quick punch to his throat, cutting off his angry growl and leaving him gasping for air.
The third vampire tried to grab her from behind, but Arya twisted out of his grip and raked her nails across his face. He hissed in pain and clutched his cheek as blood oozed from the scratches. Without giving him time to recover, she launched a knee into his stomach hard enough to make him double over.
This was not the Arya I’d known for ten years.
Despite her initial success, the vampires quickly regrouped, their anger and bloodlust intensifying. Arya fought valiantly, her movements quick and precise, but she was outnumbered, and she was human. One vampire grabbed her arm and twisted it painfully behind her while another punched her midsection.
Arya grunted in pain, her strength waning. Her eyes bounced around the alley wildly. With a desperate, last-ditch burst of strength, she broke free from their grip and ran, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she disappeared down the alley and around the corner.
That was my cue. I stepped out of the shadows, moving swiftly and silently, intercepting the vampires before they could chase after her.
The lead vampire sneered at me. “Another fool to the slaughter?”
I smirked, my eyes narrowing. “Perhaps, but you’ll find I’m not so easily dealt with.”
The vampires lunged at me simultaneously. I sidestepped the first and delivered a powerful kick to his midsection that sent him careening into the alley wall. The second one swung at me, but I ducked and countered with an uppercut that snapped his head back.
The third vampire managed to grab my arm with a grip like iron, but I twisted free and drove my elbow into his face. He staggered back, clutching his nose.
The lead vampire quickly recovered from the surprise of my attack and charged at me with renewed fury. We exchanged blows, each hit resonating with a dull thud in the confined space of the alley. He was stronger, but I was faster.
I caught him with a sweeping leg kick that knocked him off balance, then followed up with a punch to the jaw that sent him sprawling. The other vampires hesitated, glancing between me and their fallen leader.
“Get out of here,” I growled. I lifted my hood and allowed my inner dragon to peek out, flashing a warning they couldn’t possibly misinterpret.
They didn’t need to be told twice. They gathered up their unconscious comrade and retreated into the night, their forms quickly swallowed by the shadows.
Breathing heavily, I looked in the direction Arya had run. I needed to find her before she got into more trouble. I set off, my footsteps echoing in the empty alley, determined to catch up with her and figure out what the hell she was doing in the Southern District at this time of night.