Page 46 of A Deal with the Shadow King

“I’m not—” I swallow hard, not ready to admit my wild heartbeats have nothing to do with fear. “But you’re Fae.”

“Fae or not, shadow magic is merely the metal we use to forge our own tools. You get to decide what shape your magic takes, and whether to grind its edges into smooth blades or braid it into unbreakable strings. Healing abilities are usually synonymous to a keen mind and a compassionate heart. Those qualities could make you a great huntress. Seeds have to show a minor but well-rounded ability for the three paths, but sprouts can focus their studies on only one or two… With enough training, you could learn to craft bolts of shadows out of the very palm of your hands.”

“Like you did earlier with the arrow,” I cut in.

“Yes.” He walks away and enters the third, unexplored room. “I’m going to take a quick shower. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge.” With that eerily benign offer, he shuts the door in my face, entombing himself and his secrets on the other side.

Holy horses!

Butterflies wreck havoc in my stomach as I wash my hands in the sink, set my mask down on the counter, and use a wet rag to pat my face down, wiping off a splash of his blood—and way too much sweat.

Curious about this incredibly small kitchen, I tiptoe over to the fridge and open it again. The neat rows of bottles and metal cans have words written across them in both bold and tiny calligraphy, and the drawers of fresh-looking vegetables and fruits leave me in awe.

I’ve never even read about some of these.

A jar of cold water on the bottom shelf beckons, and I rummage through the neighboring cupboards for a glass, my hands still tingling with adrenaline from the kill, the healing, and the warmth of One’s skin.

He comes out of the bathroom in minutes, rubbing a fluffy white towel to his ear. His hair is all in disarray, no longer slicked back over his head, and the wavy black locks soften his lethal, curated look. He’s still half-naked, but wearing a different pair of pants, and his mask is clean… The thought that he removed it in there dries up my mouth.

An eerie-looking shadow across his chest catches my attention. The anomaly hovers above the hunter’s heart like smoke, and yet gleams in the night like liquid silk. I couldn’t see it earlier because of all the blood, but the black luster draws me in.

I rinse out my glass to keep myself from touching it. “Earlier. Were you saying I could become…like you?”

He grabs another beer in the fridge and hops onto the island, legs dangling below him, barely an inch of space between us. “Would you want to?”

I return the glass to the cupboard to try and break the tension. “You’re talking in riddles.”

“If you pass your neophyte training, you could become a huntress.” His broad frame obscures the city lights as he leans in ever so slightly. “Is that…something you’d want?”

A thrill spirals in my bones at the proximity of his bare chest, and I blush a thousand shades of red. He looks perfectly at ease to be half-naked in front of me, like it’s natural.

Crops, it’s hot in here.

“I could never?—”

“Hypothetically.”

I squint at him, desperate to see his eyes underneath the mask, desperate to know if I can trust him. “Yesterday, before I took the oath, you said my full name. Why?”

He swallows a mouthful of ale before answering, “Names are at the root of our magic. You can know of something without knowing its name, but to truly master it, or have any sort of real power over it, you must learn its full name.”

Him and his brothers are hiding their true names. It’s so obvious after this conversation; it’s not even a question. Even Lori. Mara. James. I don’t know their full names, and I even had the instinct to only give them a part of mine.

“So when I asked if One was really your name… It wasn’t very smart.” Still, something gnaws at me. “If knowing someone’s name gives you power over them, why does the king present his to everyone? Why doesn’t he keep it secret, too?”

“The king is the most powerful being in the shadow realm. To rule over people, you must prove you’re strong enough for them to know your name.”

My nose wrinkles at the flaws in his logic. “That sounds ridiculous.”

He cracks a smile. “What about your kingdom? Do you feel you have the right to rule because you are your father’s daughter? Shouldn’t a reign be built on more than blood?”

“I’m not allowed to reign. I’m a woman.”

“Isn’t that flawed?” He scratches the edge of his mask back and forth.

“Are there queens in Faerie? Queens that truly reign?”

He holds up three fingers. “Autumn, Spring, and Summer.”

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