Page 6

Chapter six

The Shade

I dipped low and full of grace, hardly even trembling as I curtsied in the face of the nightmare before me. Moments became hours and seconds years. I willed him to pass and did not rise. But as he silently walked to stand before me, the shadows flickered and coiled even higher, now about my arms and waist. My wide dress shifted as his legs pressed close enough to move the ruffles and hoops back. The shadows swept up my shoulder, playing with the ends of my hair.

Behind me, a collective gasp hissed through the room, and his thumb caught the tear that wavered on my jaw. Startled, I glanced up to his face. His brows pinched, and his eyes stormed. Anger and hatred and violence and murder all swirled within them. I should have felt more afraid. I should have trembled in terror. But his touch exuded comfort, and his caress was a relief. My chin lifted into his touch on its own.

Subtly, he pulled me up with a pressure beneath my jaw. I rose, but he didn’t release me. A spark ignited and shot from my neck to my chest, hot and sudden, and I stepped back with a gasp. Afraid he would perceive it as an insult, I dipped again quickly, then pulled myself to the side to allow him to pass .

This was the Shade, the one responsible for the oily storms that plagued us. The poisoner of the queen. The root of the drought in our lands. He was evil incarnate, a menace, a monster and darkness and curses in human form.

I felt his gaze on me like the burn from the sun, though I kept my eyes on the ground. He turned. The shadows swirled about him like a vortex, and he raised one gloved hand. Then he snapped.

From behind him, the shadows carried three men suspended in their black embrace, dressed in plain clothes, battered and bruised, dripping and bleeding, along the ballroom corridor until they were thrown to the floor in the middle of the room. The prince stepped forward, a hand hesitantly reaching for the bloody men before he turned in a fury to the Shade.

“What is the meaning of this?” he barked.

The shadows darkened and writhed like dogs at the end of a leash. The Shade leaned back on his heel, his voice rumbling like a distant thunder. “I came to return your property. I found them on mine.”

A flame lit in the prince’s palm. “You have made a mistake coming here, murdering good guards.” From behind the prince, a group of armored men swept behind him, arms up, gusts ready. The galers prepared to battle.

But the Shade simply chuckled. The sound vibrated through my core. From the prickling of my scalp to the tingling of my toes, I felt every word of his husky, low voice. “It is not I who is mistaken.” Dark green eyes flicked to mine and back. “Do not mistake this warning as mercy.”

“Now!” the prince shouted. Flames curled from the prince’s palm, and magicked wind blew it toward the Shade. Nobles and ladies screamed as they tucked into the corners behind the tables and pillars and each other .

Time slowed. A ball of flame, hot and angry, boiled in the air as it barreled toward the Shade. I was off to the side, but not far enough. The consuming fire decimated a table, burst the linens into flame, and destroyed the flowers as they burned before me. Ash held the stem and the petals in suspension for a moment before it crumbled into dust. The writhing heat coiled, churning closer like cream swirling in hot water. Beautifully. Horribly. My life would end in fire. I saw the prince’s expression as he realized I stood too close to the flame. At least he looked adequately conflicted that I was about to be killed at his hand.

Then I was yanked away, a pressure squeezing around my waist as I fell backward, my face to the ceiling. My vision went black. Strange. I’d expected see light from the flames as the fire killed me. But something caught my head before it hit the floor, and warmth curled behind me. My hands grasped fabric. A collar. Death wasn’t painful at all. I realized a moment later…Death breathed.

I ducked my chin to meet the brightest eyes, like spring leaves not yet darkened by the sun, studying my face. Gone was the murderous glint of his expression. Instead, the gaze of the Shade held…something else. I inhaled, expecting Death to smell like peat, but he smelled of pine and forests and evenings in fall and midnight in winter. He held me backward, like the end of a dangerous dance. His eyes seared my skin as they regarded me, and his thumb tilted my chin as he took in the mark on my neck with a furrowed brow. He brushed it softly. My skin prickled in goosebumps as that shock raced through my system again.

Above us, the shadows behind his head lightened and swirled, backlit as the fire raged above it all, passing us by. The shadows danced and flickered like smoke in a sunset. The roar of the flame was muted in our dark cocoon. The shadows were a misty window to the inferno around us.

“Beautiful,” I whispered, before I realized I had said that out loud. Wide-eyed, I glanced down at the Shade, who only raised his brow. The flames stopped, and everything went dark again. His palm brushed my cheek, I felt stone behind my head, and all at once, the smoke swirled and disappeared.

I was lying on the warm stone floor. Above me, tapestries and curtains crackled with fire, and dark gray smoke drifted hazily through the room from the charred walls and doors. My once-silver gown was rumpled but not stained, though the hem closest to the room’s center was singed. I was unharmed, uninjured. But the guards by the entrance hadn’t made it. Despite being farther from the Shade and hiding behind a column, both the columns and the men were charred beyond recognition. I scrambled away, trembling. My back hit the wall.

“He’s gone! What a coward!” the prince began, his regal voice back in place. “Forgive the rude interruption, my honored guests and our bonding pair. Let us take the ceremony to the gardens.” He clapped twice, and the room emptied with loud chatter as everyone escaped through the back doors. His voice lowered as he spoke to a washer on his way out behind the crowd. “Clean this up. The next bonding ball is in a week. Get the unfortunate lady to a healer.” Prince Leon cast a worried look at me, our eyes connecting for a moment, before he turned his back and spoke to a seer. He said something else, but the sounds were warbling.

A face crouched before me. Chef.

She gathered my hands in hers and lifted me from the ground to unsteady feet. Her lips were moving, but the sounds were mushy. Despite my lack of response, she tucked me beside her and swept me down the servant’s hall. Then I was in the bath, her gentle hands washing me. Still in a daze, I was taken to my bed. Chef’s palm pressed against my cheek, tender as always when she was treating me for one wound or another. Her eyes widened as she looked at my jaw. She pulled my hair forward and patted it twice.

Then I fell once again into darkness, but at least this darkness was sleep.