Page 11 of Wicked Prince of Shadows (Wicked Princes #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ilay sprawled in the rocky dirt, chest heaving, the taste of blood thick on my tongue, staring up at the dark form looming over me on the back of the fallen beast. If looks could kill, I’d be dead now.

The Hollow King glowered down at me from on top of the skeletal hound’s corpse, the pale moonlight highlighting his terrifying form.

As glad as I was to not be ripped to pieces, I wasn’t sure if this was really an improvement. A cold bolt of fear cut through me. There was little chance I’d be able to escape after all this was done.

A heavy thud jolted through the ground as the Hollow King leaped off the dead beast’s back, shadows coiling about him.

The black smoky eels coiled in the air near him, sliding around as if scouting out the area.

“Look at what you’ve done,” he said sternly, his amber eyes blazing.

“Do you realize how close you are to dying?”

I spat out a mouthful of blood, wanting to snap back something sarcastic. But there wasn’t a square inch of my body that didn’t hurt, and tears ran down my cheeks, mixing with snot and sweat. Sniffing hard, I tried to wipe my face with the back of my hand. Another searing wave of pain cut over me.

I just wanted to pass out. Nausea churned in my stomach. My eyelids slid shut as I bit back a groan. No, no, no. I wasn’t going to throw up again.

“Well?” He stepped closer, hands on his trim waist. “Do you want to see more of my beautiful kingdom? Did you enjoy your little adventure?”

Something about him just annoyed me. I narrowed my eyes at him and spat out another glob of blood, then sniffed and lifted my chin though my body trembled and my lip was split. “Yeth.”

He set his jaw and crouched in front of me, elbows braced casually on his knees as his hands dangled loose. “I beg your pardon.”

“You’re pardoned,” I said thickly and spit out another glob of blood, grimacing as my arms trembled.

The split on my lip stung deeper. This was a terrible idea.

I really needed to stop. It wasn’t like I could just walk back.

I was probably minutes, maybe seconds from total shock.

The tang of adrenaline had soured in my mouth.

Even breathing was hard as the pain in my bitten leg intensified. More tears rolled down my cheeks.

No. No crying. But my body refused to listen.

Somehow being here with him terrified me more than the beasts moments earlier. At least if they had killed me or if I’d fallen into the chasm, my soul would have torn free. Probably. But if he took me back, I had no chance at all. I wasn’t a princess.

The thought of being destroyed in darkness and condemned to it for all of the remnant of time terrified me beyond words. More than heights. More than the ocean.

My adrenaline was starting to crash though, and my head swam. Nausea churned stronger.

The eels coiled around him and then fanned out. “I warned you how dangerous this place is. But you didn’t listen, you selfish little wretch.”

I glared up at him with as much venom as I could.

Then I lurched forward, choking on my blood before I threw up on his boots.

I gagged again, my stomach clenching hard enough to make my vision go white.

Bitter vomit and blood splattered the dry earth, and I swayed, trying to drag air back into my lungs.

My bitten leg trembled violently, muscles clenching and then going weak. Black edged my vision, creeping inward.

A large, cool hand clamped onto the back of my neck before I could pitch forward. “You’re lucky I found you when I did,” he growled. “Any longer and the chitter hound would have dragged you back to its stone crabs where you would have been dissected and used for adornments.”

Most of that last sentence made no sense.

“Why would you be so stupid?” He pushed me back onto the ground, and his shadow engulfed me.

“M—my thoul,” I gagged again.

He rolled up his sleeves as he cast his eyes heavenward in annoyance. “Your soul will be fine, you foolish woman. You aren’t going to die because you’re the princess. It will just be uncomfortable and embarrassing. Now stay awake. This magic works better if you’re conscious.”

I tried to protest, but all that came out was a garbled mass of words. He ignored my attempt at language, eyes flicking over my injuries with a cold precision. His fingers shifted to my jaw, forcing my chin up.

“You’re in shock.” His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was announcing the weather. “Your pulse is too fast. Skin clammy. Pupils dilated. Blood loss. Trauma.”

I tried to jerk back, but my head lolled. “Thtop—”

“Quiet.” His other hand slid to my ankle, pressing hard above the puncture marks where the hound had bitten deep. I shrieked, the sound hoarse and broken as I shuddered violently, nails scraping weakly at his shoulder.

His amber eyes flicked to mine, unblinking. “That’s enough,” he said flatly. “You aren’t going to die. After all, you belong to me whether you want to or not. Death isn’t going to save you from your duty. I don’t tolerate disobedience, princess.”

“Thabine.” I grimaced, unable to even say my own name. “I’m Thabine.”

“Fine.” His shadows wrapped tight around me. The heat in my leg vanished into an uncomfortable frigid intensity.

I gasped, stiffening and trying to pull away as another wave of nausea rolled through me. If I threw up again, I prayed I could do it on his robe.

“Stop struggling. It won’t do you any good.

I’d threaten to punish you, but the reality is that healing you is about as painful as torturing you, so well done on that point.

I’m going to seal the worst of these before we leave.

We’ll handle the rest and sort out your punishment when we get back to the palace. ”

A howl cut through the night. He tilted his head, then rolled his eyes.

His sleek black hair glistened in the pale moonlight.

“Wonderful. Come on then, wretched little trespasser.” His shadows wrapped tighter around me.

The icy cold took on an oily sensation over each of the wounds, wrapping snug as any bandage.

Though my pulse still thundered, I could barely move. He lifted me into his arms, not tearing the remnants of my dress any further. A groan rasped through my throat as I cringed.

He was going to fly again. Of course he was.

His wings unfurled with a sound like bones snapping and cloth tearing. Vast, skeletal spars jutted outward, each joint sharp as a blade, shadowy smoke stretched between them like torn sails. The first beat sent a shockwave through the air, and my stomach flipped.

I buried my face in his chest, fists knotted in his robe, trying to make myself small.

“Quiet,” he ordered, his voice vibrating through me like thunder.

His grip on me didn’t loosen as the wings swept again, lifting us in a jarring surge.

“Don’t look down if it bothers you so much.

It isn’t that bad. I’ve never dropped anyone… intentionally.”

“Bathtard,” I mumbled thickly, words muffled by his coat.

The wind knifed past us, tugging at my blood-stiffened hair until it whipped like brittle straw.

My body trembled so hard my teeth chattered.

The metallic tang of my blood clung to me, mixing with the faint myrrh and cedar scent of him.

His shadows stayed hooked into my wounds, cold and alien under my skin, a reminder that he was holding me together as much as he was holding me aloft.

Every time his wings beat, my stomach dropped again. He banked once, hard, and the world tilted. Even with my eyes shut tight, I felt the motion and whimpered as I hated myself all the more.

I lost count of the wingbeats. Lost count of the minutes.

It all bled together in a chilling, tumultuous cycle of nausea and pain.

Curling in tighter, I pressed my face harder into his chest, trying not to hear the hiss of wind past those vast smoky sails, trying not to picture the black void below.

All at once, his wings tilted again. The rush of air changed pitch.

We were descending! The lurch of it made my stomach heave, then we slid into stillness.

His boots hit stone with a heavy thud, and his wings snapped in with a sharp rush.

I cracked my eyes open. Cold grey stone. A bare mattress on a thick-legged bed frame.

We were back.

He dumped me onto the bed, huffing with annoyance. “I would ask where the covers and curtains went, but there's little point."

I blinked up at the flat grey ceiling, the room spinning. The curtains, sheets, and blankets were gone, of course. I’d torn them for my rope that was lost somewhere down in the courtyard. All that was left was bare mattress and the faint smell of cold ash, lavender, and his cologne.

His amber eyes flicked over me. He rolled his sleeve back to the elbow, more shadows curling off his skin like smoke. “Hold still. This will hurt.”

“Wai—”

The magic hit before I could finish. His shadows sank into my remaining wounds with a cold so sharp it felt like claws dragging under my skin. I gasped and arched, a strangled cry tearing from my throat. “Thtop—”

“Breathe through the pain,” he said flatly. “If you thrash, it may tear, and that will just make it worse for you. The physician will be here soon to finetune this process and clean you up.” More shadows rose and slapped over my face, entering the cuts.

My nails dug into the sheets. The oily chill wormed deeper, pushing out the heat, pushing out the blood. My pulse stuttered and raced. Dizziness swamped me. It felt like I was suffocating.

Then the shadows withdrew with a violent tug, like barbs ripping free. I convulsed and gagged. He caught my chin, forcing my eyes open. “Stay awake. We’re not finished.”

A soft knock came at the door. “Enter,” he commanded.