Page 26 of Wicked Prince of Shadows (Wicked Princes #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Hollow King’s eyebrow arched up with surprise. “You’re still willing to wed me?” He angled toward me, sitting crooked in his chair.

I pursed my lips and then mirrored his expression as I continued to work on his hand.

It wasn’t nearly as messy as other stitchwork, reminding me more of stitching up a mannequin than a human or fae.

“Oh? I have a choice now? I thought I remembered someone saying that it really didn’t matter and there could be a funeral after the wedding. ”

He opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut.

His eyes narrowed. “That was when I thought you were the princess. If you were actually a royal and of the line of Tanith, you would not necessarily be harmed. Just…inconvenienced and perturbed and possibly a candidate for some form of termination.”

I snipped the thread, then prepared to stitch his arm. The slick dark thread was easier to work with than I expected. “Not necessarily, hmm?”

His mouth pinched as I made the first stitch.

There was no denying it, and truthfully, I knew he couldn’t. The silence stretched taut between us.

Descendants of Tanith were not innocents in his mind.

Though I cared for Enola deeply, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t understand why he blamed them.

I had blamed Enola’s family for the tower crushing my family.

She hadn’t been directly involved though her father had been the one who ordered the tower be built on such unstable land, and I knew that the only reason we started becoming friends was because initially she felt guilty for that.

It would have been so easy to lash out at her and pretend she was the one who was guilty. Ironically, she had turned out to be the one friend who stuck with me in her own strange way.

The Hollow King continued to stare at me, probably trying to guess my thoughts and being incredibly wrong.

“You could be obliterated, Sabine,” he said after a few moments of awkward silence. “You aren’t a royal descended from Tanith, and I can’t protect you from fate if we’re wrong. This isn’t a joking matter.”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?” I cut my eyes up at him. “It seems like a reasonable chance for us to take if there’s no other alternative.”

He fixed me with his stern gaze. “Sabine, I swore I would not sacrifice an innocent—”

“I’m not offering to die. But I can’t abandon all of you here.

It feels…wrong.” I jerked free and shot him a glare as I adjusted my grip on the needle.

“Now stop arguing with me. You were all excited to drag me here by my hair, and now that I’m willing to help you, you’re giving me lip?

” There were just a couple more stitches left to go.

His eyes narrowed to fiery slits. “You have little concern about mouthing off to royals. For that reason alone, I’d assumed you had to be one.”

I smirked at him as I resumed stitching.

The thread slipped through the flesh with ease, forming bold Xs across his forearm.

“I’m an outsider. Always have been. My family on both sides lived in the forest and on scraps.

Enola and I are friends because I can be a defiant little thorn, and she likes people who have their own thoughts.

But let’s get back to what we were talking about.

Are you really telling me that you would rather have no chance of saving your people and you? ”

Warmth flared through me that he would even consider the cost to me now that he knew I wasn’t a princess.

He wasn’t nearly so heartless as I had thought.

It almost made me laugh how we had swapped sides in this matter.

“Besides, how is it that you concluded I wasn’t royal now?

I already told you that many times, so I know it’s not just because you suddenly believed me. ”

He leaned back in the chair and sighed, then gestured toward the smashed table. The black pomegranate lay smashed on the floor amid the shattered glass. “That.”

“That?” I clipped the thread, wiped my hands clean with the astringent, and then crossed over to the fruit.

Picking it up, I examined it. It had the white membrane inside as well as the glistening seeds, though they were all black as wet ink.

I brought it over. My stomach grumbled again at the scent of the fresh fruit, the tea not really cutting it.

“What about it? Aside from the fact it’s black. ”

“That’s exactly it. When royals give their blood in plant magic, the fruit or plants exhibit other shades. Dull tones or at least very deep. It can be difficult to spot. But the fruit and plants that grew from your blood…” He hesitated, then shook his head.

“It’s all right. Say that I’m common or ordinary.” I found myself smiling at his odd show of sensibilities. My mind flashed back to how he held my thigh in the garden, and my core heated. “I know what I am.”

“I’m not certain you do.” His gaze drifted over me and lingered on my lips. “But now you tell me why you have changed your perspective? You weren’t particularly amenable to the idea before.”

“Because before I thought you were an asshole. You kidnapped me, you threatened me, you didn’t believe me. You were accusing Queen Tanith, someone my people revere, of horrific things. And frankly your kingdom is terrifying, and you threw me from a very high place.”

“You have vomited on me or near me…twice.”

“That’s what you get for terrifying women.”

His gaze narrowed as he studied me. “Defiant little thorn, hmm?”

I shrugged, then checked my hands to make sure the astringent had actually cleaned them. “It fits.”

“It does.” The smile that tugged at his mouth was almost affectionate. “But I do find your transformation intriguing. You're truly serious about this?”

“I’m going to show you how serious I am about helping you.

” I dug out six of the pomegranate gems and popped them in my mouth, trying not to think about the fact that my blood had nourished them.

The tart, sweet flavor burst across my tongue, so intense after days of nothing that I nearly gasped.

The juice was dark as inky wine, staining my lips and fingers.

I chewed deliberately, swallowing as the Hollow King watched me with an expression caught between horror and disbelief.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, leaning forward so sharply he nearly knocked the medical supplies from the table.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, leaving a dark smear.

"Proving that I'm not afraid of this place or its food. If eating here binds me to you and the doctor, then so be it. Now you and the doctor have both told me that this isn’t going to bind me here, so maybe it’s a moot point. But my intent stands.”

“Given what you believe, you’re a reckless woman.”

“Only when it comes to things that don’t involve heights or the ocean.

” I fished out a few pomegranate gems and offered them to him.

“And to be clear, I’m not saying I'll sacrifice myself. I’m offering to help you find another solution, and I have an idea for how to determine if perhaps my being made a royal first will fix this. ”

He took it and placed it on his tongue, watching me. “I’m listening.”

“Doctor Rasoul was made a royal before he came here. He said he was a commoner at first. If something in the blood changes when you become a royal, wouldn’t that show up in his blood and then appear in whatever plant he bled over?”

He tapped his finger on the back of his hand. “We will need to get a plant from one of the other gardens. One that you haven’t touched. Preferably one with seeds that will bear white flowers or white fruit if there is common blood. It will be easier to see.”

“Whatever you think would be best.” I turned the pomegranate over in my hand, then looked back at him. “Why did you pick a pomegranate then if they grow black here?”

“Pomegranates are typically shared at weddings between the bride and groom. It seemed…fitting.” He stood, towering over me once more. For a moment, he looked down at the scars on his arm and the fresh stitches. “I was ready to kill you and not shed a tear. Now…I find myself hopeful you survive.”

I shrugged at him, finding myself smiling and shifting my weight back.

“Don’t get too attached. I’ll still find ways to antagonize you.

Now. I don’t suppose you have a place where this curse is written down or something?

I’d like to be able to look at it and see if I can understand anything else about it. ”

“The tablets you reached when the chitter hounds attacked contain the original inscriptions, but we have copies here.” His gaze fell across the scattered pages and volumes. “Somewhere.”

I glanced around at the chaos he'd created.

Finding anything specific in this mess could take a while.

"Well, that's going to be fun to find." I set the pomegranate down carefully on the small table beside the medical supplies.

"But we have time, don't we? A few more days?

" How long had I been here? It felt as if it had been forever.

“Three. Three before the Witheringlands end.” He strode over to the mass of papers and parchment, rifling through them with his clawed fingers.

“And Doctor Rasoul’s blood may take longer to reveal itself than yours because he doesn’t possess magic that makes plants grow unless he has been hiding quite a lot. ”

The tightness in my chest choked my breath. Nothing like the threat of too little time. “What am I looking for then?” I crouched beside him.

“I usually kept it out. Somewhere in the papers. It’s not just writing.” He looked up at the moon, then swore. “If it tore, it might not be there…”

“What do you mean if it tore?” I glanced up at the blood moon as well. It was almost at its zenith for the night. It felt like I was missing something.