Page 18 of Wicked Prince of Shadows (Wicked Princes #2)

“I didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to try to reach it after I warned you how dangerous it was,” he said sharply.

A note of grudging respect entered his voice.

“But with that said, you did endure. Unfortunately, it is meaningless. The portal is too weak to allow anyone through in either direction until the final hours of the blood moon cycle. If then. And beyond that, there was a cave in over the portal. It will have to be cleared.”

My heart sank. Well, so much for that plan. “What charges it?”

“I don’t know. It’s tied to the blood moon, but, like so much else, it has been increasingly erratic.

Don’t leave this palace without me or someone who knows how to navigate it,” he said, his voice sterner now.

“As unpleasant as you may find this place, it can always get worse out there. Sometimes I think that all that remains is the wrath of the eidon who fell in this place to form it. Maltric says this is a place of grief and mourning, but I know rage and hate when I see it. Regardless of what made the eidons create the Witheringlands, this is not a place for any mortal, living or dead.” He rubbed his hand along the soft skin of my inner thigh again.

“This needs more work to prevent scarring.”

His hands were cold, but…Maker help me, the grip in his hands was shockingly arousing. I stiffened, blinking as I sat there, trying to keep my thoughts focused.

“You got quiet,” he said with dark amusement. He cut his eyes up at me. “What are you plotting, little dodo?”

“I’m just—I’m surprised that as the king you’re—doing this.”

He scoffed as he continued to massage the salve in. “I helped you before.”

“You jammed shadows inside my wounds.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “This is…”

“What?”

"Gentle," I finished, the word catching in my throat as his strong hands lingered. Most of the initial pain had faded into something far more akin to discomfort. And it wasn’t unpleasant now.

His eyes flashed up to meet mine, amber depths burning with something I couldn't name. "Gentle?" he repeated, his voice dropping lower. "Is that what you think this is?" That infernal eyebrow of his lifted once more as if daring me to answer.

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of his thumb pressing higher against my inner thigh.

The salve was fully absorbed, the burn already faded, yet his hand remained, the cool pressure of his touch sending unexpected heat through me.

I should have pulled away. Should have stood up and created distance between us.

Instead, I sat frozen, my breath coming faster.

"I—" My voice failed me. “What do you think this is?” I rushed those last words out.

The garden around us seemed to fall away, the silence stretching between us like a living thing.

His gaze held mine, unblinking, challenging.

Something like lightning crackled in the air, a tension that made my skin prickle and my mouth dry.

His fingers tightened ever so slightly, the pressure sending a jolt through me.

"I think," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "that you are a very unusual princess."

I couldn't look away from those burning amber eyes. "Probably because I’m not a princess.”

He shook his head, his lips curving upward into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “There is no chance that you’re just an ordinary woman.”

“That’s exactly what I am.”

“There’s magic in you,” he said quietly. “I can feel it.” His thumb rubbed along the sensitive skin of my thigh, dangerously close to my core.

“There’s magic in everyone,” I responded. My throat bobbed. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

His gaze lingered on me, something shifting in those amber depths. "It’s true that everyone has a spark and at least one gift, but yours..." His thumb traced a slow circle that made my breath catch. "Yours pulses differently."

"I'm an herbalist. A gardener. A servant," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady despite the warmth spreading through me.

"I work with plants. Believe me, my magic is not impressive in the slightest. That's all. Maybe the eidon who made this place is the reason. My family has always had plant magic that responded well when near them, especially since they love nature so much. But that isn’t me.

That's just a reaction. Do you think one is here? "

He tilted his head. As the wind changed, it blew against his hair, the scent of myrrh and cloves enveloping me. “I don’t know. You seem to have a skill for bringing withered things back to life.”

I dropped my gaze. “Well…let’s not read too much into that. I just…I don’t know what I’m doing out here. I don’t know any of the plants.”

“They heard you though. Look at all this growth. It’s remarkable.”

“You can see that I’m not really a princess though, can’t you?

” I leaned forward, my voice dropping. “Your Majesty, please. I’m not lying, and I’m not a coward.

If there is some other way that I can help you end this curse, I will.

But I don’t know what this magic is supposed to show here in this garden.

Royals and commoners alike have plant magic. ”

“I know what I’m looking for,” he said, his hand still on my thigh. “And words cannot express enough how much I hope you are lying to me about not being Tanith’s descendant.”

Fear swelled inside me, choking me. I opened my mouth to protest even though I knew it would do no good when suddenly Osric’s voice echoed off the marble. “Come see my friend. She got bit because she didn’t believe me.” Rapid footsteps on the landing far above reached my ears.

I tilted my head toward their voices, setting my jaw. “That’s not quite how I remember it happening,” I said.

The Hollow King drew his hands back and lowered my skirt. He then smoothed the fabric down, his touch deliberate and lingering at my knee. “Do you mind Osric and his friends being in the garden while you work? They’re relatively well behaved, but they don’t have to stay if they bother you.”

I bit back a shudder as pleasant chills ran up my spine from his touch. What was wrong with me? This man was going to be the reason I was completely and utterly destroyed. But heat rushed through my veins. “Not at all. I—” I stopped, swallowing hard, more heat flying to my cheeks.

“What?” He leaned back on his heels as he regarded me, his balance impeccable and his wrists loose as his elbows rested on his knees.

“I just…it sounds like you actually like these children.” I stammered out the words and then reached up to tuck a stray strand of dark hair back behind my ear.

“You’re surprised I like children?” he asked in that same pretentious tone.

“More surprised that you like them in some way other than for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.” Somehow I couldn’t help but tease him. I ducked my head as I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

“I don’t eat children.” His eyes narrowed though one side of his mouth quirked. “At least not without proper cause. Or vegetables.”

A laugh escaped me before I could steel my expression.

The footsteps drew closer. The Hollow King took my hand and helped me to my feet.

I glanced up in time to see Osric and four other children near his age thundering down the steps.

All were grey-skinned, their hair either black or white and rather unkempt.

They didn’t react to the Hollow King with even a modicum of concern, but Osric grabbed my hand and presented me to his friends.

The Hollow King’s hand remained wrapped around mine for a moment longer before falling away as Osric tugged me forward. “This is Sabine. Not Thabine. She’s from the Waking Lands.”

I fluttered my bloodstained fingers, feeling a little awkward. “Hello.” The children surrounded me.

“Do you have children like us back home?”

“Is it true they have dogs in the Waking Lands?”

“Is the color green always real where you're from? Osric says it is, but I can’t imagine it.”

“Do no plants bite where you’re from?”

I did the best I could to answer them, but they seemed more interested in asking than listening.

Even as I resumed tending the plants and speaking the small spells over them, the children followed me.

Their excited chatter and numerous questions almost made me feel as if I were back home during planting days.

Even though they didn’t leave me space to answer their questions, their presence did make the time pass faster until noon when they were called away for lessons.

I continued working.

The day was odd.

Deathbeaks attacked five times throughout.

The warriors fought them back, and at one point, someone shouted from a tower that the behemoth was moving again in the salt flats.

I wanted to see what was going on, but there was no way up.

So I just watched the warriors fly out while others assumed positions on the wall, and I continued watering and tending to the plants.

Six Stitches and Broken Nose came down to stand near me each time the deathbeaks were sighted but then returned to their posts when the danger passed.

Whatever the guards were doing, it appeared successful in keeping the behemoth from reaching us.

Three earth tremors passed through as well, but none were enough to do damage.

Osric warned me before he left to be careful because eventually there would be a big earthquake, and that was when he would personally be more worried.

On a hunch, I asked Six Stitches and Broken Nose for the butcher or chef to drain the blood from the deathbeaks into the soil and reserve some of the blood in basins to pour in separately. Though they found it an odd request, they complied.

The chef, who turned out to also be the butcher, came to speak with me midway through the afternoon.

“What’re you doing out here, girl?” she demanded, hands on her thick waist. She only had one wing, and she walked with a limp. “You want blood?”