Page 4 of Wicked Prince of Shadows (Wicked Princes #2)

CHAPTER THREE

Cold hands seized me at the shoulders and lifted me up, fingers pinching my flesh. The two guards held me up, one gripping me under each arm as they flew.

They lowered me easily, smoky wings catching the invisible currents and landing in front of a broad low staircase that led up into the palace.

I staggered and caught myself on the railing as my stomach swam. My knees gave way and struck the marble. The ground might be steady, but it didn’t feel that way. Maker, help me. I didn't want to throw up here.

My throat tightened, bile creeping up my throat.

A low thud announced something landing several feet away from me and up the stairs.

My gaze snapped up.

The Hollow King stood at the top of the staircase, eyebrow lifted as he stared down at me like I was a pile of filth. His upper lip curled. “Already on your knees for me, darling? What a promising start to our betrothal. Though you do look a bit off. Did our little flight not agree with you?”

I grabbed the stone banister to pull myself up, my stomach churning and that awful tightness in the back of my throat clenching harder as saliva pooled in my mouth.

A thousand responses rose to my lips. Commentary on him and his kingdom and the smell and everything else. But I’d barely jabbed my finger in his direction and staggered up before what came of my mouth was vomit.

My knees struck the marble as I gripped the banister. Gagging, I leaned between the broad spindles.

“Hm. How provincial. One would have thought that a princess would be better prepared for such an excursion, but I don’t know what I really expected of Tanith’s descendant. You may not look like her, but you have all her worst traits.”

I hinged my gaze up briefly to glare at him, then gagged again as my stomach insisted that the water and few sips of wine still needed to be expelled. Shame burned my cheeks and chest as the horrid taste of bile and ash coated my tongue.

A low scoffing laugh followed. “Need a moment? Very well. Collect yourself, and we’ll finish talking like adults if you can manage that. Guards, once she’s done defiling my courtyard, bring her to my observation room.”

I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, glaring at him. “May all your seats turn to thorns, you empty bastard,” I shouted after him.

He halted on the staircase, then shook his head. His wings twitched against his rigid spine, the weak light passing through their smoky form and making the shadows stretch long across the marble. “Careful, princess. Unless you want another tour of my kingdom.”

“I—” Another spasm took me back over the side of the banister, and I closed my eyes. I had to get out of this place.

“I thought not.” He continued up the staircase, wings folded elegantly against his back and his black robes trailing on the stairs behind him in perfect alignment.

Somehow his crown and black hair were both straight and flawless despite his excursion above.

Not that I needed more reason to hate him, but that certainly added to the list of reasons.

The two guards walked alongside me. One, a fae with six stitches on his left cheek and down his chin, leaned closer, hands on his belt. “Might not be wise to antagonize him, Your Highness.”

“I’m not a princess,” I mumbled thickly.

“Unlikely,” the one with a broken nose said with a dark laugh. “He can only leave and return once per blood moon. He wouldn’t waste that on a commoner.”

“Regardless, this isn’t something you win by fighting,” said Six Stitches, his voice a low gravelly rumble.

He exchanged looks with the guard on the other side of me, then set his thick gloved hands against his belt.

“If you want to survive, you best play nice. There’s a lot of good people here who’re going to die if you don’t play your role.

And none of you fulfilling your role requires you to be capable of walking or even conscious except for the wedding itself.

So…bear that in mind. You can suffer a great deal in the next week. ”

I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve once more and glared at both as I tried to come up with a good comeback. “Yeah, well, you both…bear in mind that…I’ll do what I think is best. What do you mean people are going to die?”

The two guards watched me with steady gazes, their dark silver eyes revealing only the barest of tolerance. “King Vetle will explain,” said Six Stitches. “Come along.”

I had to figure out a way to escape. As I leaned over the railing and gasped for breath, I ran through my options and what I had seen.

The Hollow King had at least shown me the way out, even if he had done it to torment me.

The easiest point to reach the portal would require crossing the chasm at the narrowest point.

I’d need to cut to the west and into the dark forest to make my way around the crescent to get there.

If I could just get past these palace walls, I’d figure something out.

I might not always be the fastest, but I always figured out a way to make things work.

Pushing through was my strength, and that would serve me well here.

It had to. As long as I didn’t keep throwing up.

I desperately wished my magic had some sort of healing for me instead of just being good for plants and soil.

“Come on, princess.” Broken Nose grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me forward as the other took hold of my other arm. “No more delays.”

My knees shook as I staggered forward between them, my cheeks still burning. Bastard king. He thought he could terrify me?

Well—maybe he could.

Especially if he was going to be throwing me around and putting me in high places.

But that didn’t mean he’d beat me. Not completely. I still had my will and my voice and my feet. I’d find a way out.

The two guards dragged me forward down a broad open-air hallway and then into a smaller closed one, to a landing, up a flight of stairs, and down two more hallways.

We passed several guards and servants, some staring while others whispered behind their hands.

All wore shades of grey, charcoal, and black, and all had stitches on some part of their bodies, often the hands, throat, or face.

Their gazes slid over me as if evaluating me for a sacrifice or considering my weaknesses.

I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders as heat prickled down my spine. With each step, I noted where we were and possible avenues for escape. When the chance came, I'd take it.

We at last entered into a broad oblong chamber. My heart raced faster as I looked around. A shallow well in the room held a pool with long dark shapes swimming in it. Eels or serpents most likely.

There the Hollow King stood with his hands clasped behind his back in front of a balcony, overlooking the courtyard as if he hadn’t just thrown me and been horribly dramatic with his flying and flouncing and walk away.

The cool air blew in, carrying a dark, musty scent like rotted moss, old lavender, and heavy woodsmoke with hints of his clove and myrrh cologne.

The spiked crown made his profile all the more terrifying, turning even his shadows sharp.

Without looking back at me, he spoke. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson.

You cannot escape. Even if you got beyond the palace and the city walls, you would never survive the Witheringlands alone.

You don’t know the dangers. And believe me, there are a thousand vile and horrific ways to die out here. ”

“Maybe I’d rather die than be your bride.” I hated how my voice shook at the end, but it wasn’t a lie. Staying in this place wasn't an option. I shook my arms free from the guards and folded them over my breasts. The airy blue gown was far too thin for the coolness of this place.

He laughed darkly. “I’m more than happy to grant your request after the wedding. Until then, you'll remain alive. Whether you remain unharmed is up to you, princess. But please understand, I have no tolerance for fools, even if they are royals.”

I balled my hands into fists. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not the princess? Why won’t you believe me?”

He had taken me so that he could have his revenge. My very being was terrified by this, but I kept my spine straight. A desperate thought flared in my mind that I could offer him a substitute, but that substitute was my dearest friend. I couldn’t do that to Enola.

No.

I’d find another way.

“Whatever you think you’re doing, I can’t help you, and you have no right to just go and kidnap people. I never even met Queen Tanith, and I’m not related to her. If there is some other way—”

He held up his hand to cut me off. “I'm uninterested in your stories. Princess or imposter, it makes little difference to me. For your sake, I hope you are the princess, but you’ll work for my purposes regardless.”

“But—”

He tilted his head, looking at me sidelong.

The deep amber of his eyes glowed with orange fire.

“I have no interest in your life or wishes, woman. Your grandmother or whatever she was in your ancestral line condemned you when she chose to trick me and sentenced my people to this remnant of a life between the cracks of the world. You have lived off our blood and our life, thriving on the fat of the land while we have starved. Our time in the shadows draws to a close.”

His rage chilled me through. I held my hands up in response, palms facing him. “I—I swear to you. This is all a huge mistake. My people have done nothing to you, and I’m not the princess. You have the wrong person.”

He folded his arms over his sleek embroidered black robe. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared me down as if daring me to try something. “If that’s true, that’s quite unfortunate for you. If you aren’t of royal blood, then you’ll die. Horrifically. Soul and all.”

My heart clenched, and my spine locked. Terror coursed through me. The words dried on my tongue.

Die?

My soul too?