Page 115 of A Deal with the Shadow King

I’m so desperate to understand why.

His face darkens, and I know what comes next will change my life forever. “I set up this charade to protect myself and my kingdom from the vultures that circle us. When the other monarchs or the High Fae learn how broken I truly am, I will not last a day.”

I tilt my head to the side, trying—and failing—to see the entire puzzle. “What do you mean? What charade?”

“I was so busy dealing with the other royals, the High Fae, the people. I had to hunt nightmares, protect the Dreaming, and keep fantasies from spiraling out of control… There weren't enough hours in a day to do it all perfectly. I didn’t have time for lovers or friends—or even family.” His chest deflates, and he turns away. “And so I fractured myself in different aspects of my personality—parts that would think independently and carry out the daily chores—while a fourth piece would be free to stay here and enjoy life.” He rubs down his face with a dry snort. “It was selfish and stupid, of course.”

“So, you’re all—” My hand reaches out to brush his shoulder.

The golden chasm in his eyes burns with shame. “We’re all a fraction of Damian, but Damian is dead.”

He marches back inside, and I follow quickly on his heels. “No! I don’t believe that.”

“I need to show you something.” He opens a hidden door in the tapestry.

The adjoining room is darker, and I tip-toe inside to see better. A handful of torches flicker to life along the walls. In the middle of a glass prison, a terrible version of Damian lies in tatters, and I cover my mouth with both hands.

“Nell. Meet Four.”

Black hair grows over his skull in uneven patches like he tears a handful of roots from his scalp at random every once in a while. The untrimmed beard makes him look twenty years older, but I could probably pick him up without too much effort, his gangly, emaciated limbs almost childlike.

The absolutely heartbreaking shard of the man I love doesn’t react as I walk closer, and his blank stare remains totally unfocussed. He appears to be somewhere else entirely, and his dark irises are the only clue that a soul still inhabits the confines of his…breathing corpse. His hands are busy playing with a ragged doll, the eyes of the toy half-torn from its head.

The familiar web of tattoos behind his ear turns my stomach.

“Four was the part of Damian that was more human. That could sing and laugh and love…”

I press my hands to the glass and fall to my knees, in absolute shock. Bloody scratches run along Four’s arms and legs, and the betrayal and anger in my heart is replaced by a heavy sense of loss.

I try not to notice the blood under his fingernails or how he peeled the runes off his knuckles.

“What happened to him?” I croak.

“Morrigan was a talented shadow huntress. The best seed the kingdom had ever seen before you, really. She rose through the ranks and made it all the way to immortality. But that wasn’t enough for her. She figured out what we were doing, and how living as separate beings made us susceptible to spells and curses that would have otherwise been ineffective against a powerful Fae king.”

One flattens his back to the glass and slides to the ground like he doesn’t have it in him to stand anymore. “She stole a love arrow directly from Eros’ quiver and shot Four with it. It affected all of us, and so we began this whirlwind romance… We had no idea what was going on.”

I squeeze his hands and bring them to my lap as a gesture of encouragement.

“On the eve of our wedding, I found out about the missing arrow and confronted Morrigan about it. She denied everything, of course. And, however fake our love was, I still felt it… I wasn’t sure. I took the Queen of Hearts aside to investigate while the rehearsal dinner was underway.

“Knowing her fate was sealed if she didn’t act quickly, Morrigan coated her shadow needles with the venom of a dreamcatcher spider and pierced Four’s heart with it. She stabbed him in the middle of dinner—just like that, and cursed him to never get better if the wedding didn’t go through.”

Flames fill my blood, and the rage in my body finds an entirely new target. “And she still expected you to marry her after that?”

“After Eros reversed the effects of the arrow, there was no way in the seven hells I would have gone through with the wedding, but Morrigan fled before we could kill her. The whole court was present—along with a handful of monarchs. Her escape was so formidable that it earned her the nickname of phantom queen.”

Three tiptoes inside the room. “We tried everything to heal Four. We even tried to merge with him again, thinking we could reabsorb him…but it never worked.”

His coarse explanation shivers through me. “You can talk!”

Two stands stock-still on the other side of the glass cube, his fists balled at his sides. “Worse than that, the three leftover pieces of Damian weren’t able to merge anymore, and so we became different people. Identical to a point, with the same memories as the original Damian, but a quarter as powerful. Each of us broken in our own way.”

“We casted a spell over the entire realm to alter the High Fae’s memories of the Shadow King and enlisted the sprites to spread wild rumors about why he had to wear a full-face mask. All these years, we were forced to lie and scheme to keep anyone from finding out the truth.” One tugs on my hands. “Until you.”

“So when I first arrived…”

Three pretends to sting his thumb with his nail. “I pricked your finger.”

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