Page 123 of A Deal with the Shadow King

The lace of her long, triangular sleeve brushes One’s neck as she cups his face. Anyone could believe they’re actually in love if it wasn’t for the petrified audience—and the nervous tick of One’s jaw.

I force my eyes closed and draw in a few cleansing breaths. In and out. In and out.

Baka inches up the stairs until she’s right beside me. “I knew ye’d come, deary. But by the spindle, ye kept me on me toes ’til the end.” She hands over the weapon with a wink.

The crossbow is heavy in my hand. There’s no bolt, which means I’m going to have to craft my own.

“One is enough.” Her wrinkled hand squeezes my lower arm. “Don’t miss.”

She’s right. I’ve only got one shot at this, but the weird angle makes it almost impossible to take proper aim at Morrigan, and the patchwork in the railing is too tight for a bolt to pass between the rectangular, interlocking pieces of metal.

The master of ceremonies below hasn’t stopped the proceedings, his voice like sand slipping through an hourglass. “Mortal love wanes. Fae love cuts to the bone. Will you cut yourself to honor your commitment to each other, from this moment forth to eternity?”

“I will,” Morrigan says. “Damian… I love you.”

The shadow bolt that had just started to take form in my palm crumbles to dust, and I start all over again.

“I know,” One sighs.

“All these people couldn’t even recognize their own king. They don’t see you like I do. Two will learn to accept it. We have enough in common. And Three’s never been so discerning… It’s up to you, One. Whether our lives become bliss or misery is entirely up to you.” With that, she carves a line in her palm with the blade.

Cece draws in a sharp breath, and Lori angles her face to our hiding spot. A glint of recognition twinkles in her eyes, and she quickly glues her gaze to the altar.

“It’s not right!” Lori screams loudly, buying me a bit of time.

A nearby spider scurries across the clearing and knocks the huntress down face-first into the earth.

She rolls over, but the spider takes a bite out of her chest. “Arrrrrgh.” Her body arches from the ground, her hands still bound behind her back.

“If Lori dies—if you kill any of my people for nothing—our deal is off!” One shouts, and his voice reverberates across the gardens. “You can’t rule alone, Rye. So if you don’t want to be overthrown in a fortnight by any shadow Fae with a title, you better think twice about your next move.”

Thank the Mother! The spider stops abruptly, and I stifle a hot sob.

A fleeting frown ghosts over Morrigan’s face, and I’m familiar enough with her facial expressions to know she’s both worried and angry. “Obviously, I wasn’t going to kill her. Now. What did we say about being rude to your new queen, Lorisha?”

The spider curves its belly forward to access its silk-spinning organ and sews Lori’s mouth shut with its web. Tears flood my best friend’s eyes. A grimace of pain and horror twists her face as the spider suspends her in the air like a perverse, bleeding ornament. Her legs dangle and sway from side to side.

The blazing disgust in my heart numbs me to the bone, and I shape my magic into a shadow bolt. The smokey projectile grows in my hands, and I fashion it between my palms until it’s as sharp as my pain and as certain as my thirst for revenge. The lever shakes in my grip as I crank the string into place.

“Now, where were we?” Morrigan says.

“Let’s get this over with.” One steals the jeweled dagger from her grasp. The hunch of his back betrays how tired and defeated he feels, and—No!

He cuts his arm with the dagger and paints his palm with fresh blood. Morrigan entwines their fingers, their blood and magic mixing under the Morheim moon. The red liquid seeps inside their skin and disappears, and bile rises to my mouth.

The sprite clears his throat loudly, clearly shocked. “Um… Under the watchful eyes of the Seven, you may now claim your bride.”

He’s married. Married to the destructive traitor who used me to spy on him. The love we shared couldn’t convince him that he was worth fighting for. And Morrigan used it to seal his fate.

One is enough…

My eyes narrow, and my heart wilts in my chest. One day, I’m going to kill that woman. I stand tall and aim directly for my mark, praying to the Mother and all the Faerie gods.

The magic bolt flies with a zip. Before I can even know if I succeeded, I’m stuck under the same immobilizing power as the others, unable to move my arms or my feet. A sluggish ache takes hold of my muscles, like I’ve been plunged into a tub of ice.

The projectile sinks inside its intended target, and the hunters’ mouths open on a silent gasp. Four falls to his knees next to the scattered pieces of the Damian puzzle, my precious shadow bolt sticking out of his chest.

“Well…how about that for a woman scorned?” Morrigan chuckles, her brows pulled together. She waves me forward. “Come along, Penelope. Don’t be shy, my little princess.”

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