Page 64 of Taken By the Shadow Prince

“You’re doing a shit job right now,” I mumble. “Listen, I’ll be right back. I’ll get you another drink, and then we’re going to talk, alright?”

He shrugs, slumps back against the lounge chair he’d been sleeping in. “Make it strong, Mavey.”

Oh, it’ll be strong.

I rush out of his rooms and into my own, then mix up an elixir that’ll taste just like alcohol—a trick of the trade I learned that’s often used to get alcoholics to stop drinking—so that he won’t immediately accuse me of doing something to him—until he starts thinking clearly again, at least.

When I’ve finished it, I bring it to him in a whisky glass and watch as he downs the whole thing in one gulp. “Tastes like shit alcohol.”

“It is,” I say.

He shrugs, doesn’t quite understand what I mean at first. But when he does, his eyebrows shoot up, and I know he’s feeling it kick in. It’s fast acting for sure—I’ve used it before to cure my hangovers, and that first initial wave of clarity is something like a brick to the back of the head.

“What was that?”

“I told you I needed to talk to you.”

“You poison me or something, cruel girl?”

The nickname feels less endearing than it used to. I say, “No. I just stopped you from poisoning yourself. How’re you feeling?”

“Pissed off,” he says.

“Not what I meant.”

“Bummer.”

I fight the urge to shout at him, to tell him that we don’t have time for this, but I know that he’s still drunk enough that the words will mean nothing to him. I just have to hold on a little longer.

Still, I ask, “Why’d you drink so much? And how are you not blacked the fuck out?”

He shrugs heavy shoulders. “Because the woman I love insinuated I was shit on the bottom of a shoe to her. That’s why I drank so much. And I’m not blacked out because that same woman poured cold ass liquid on me. I almost pissed myself.”

“You were certainly scared shitless.” I pause. “But I think you would have slept through it, if you’d really been that far gone.” I glance at the empty bottles. And he definitely should have been.

Armin shrugs. “Mortal liquors are weaker than those in Atheya. Our bodies are stronger, built for more than your weaker ones are.”

His words are clear enough now that I know we’re close to finished, so I lean over the balcony while the tonic finishes the job and survey the damage, the battle below us, raging all around us.

While Armin was up here, getting drunk off his ass and dozing in his woven lounge chair like he couldn’t hear the screams below us.

Perhaps he’s just used to the sounds of people screaming in pain.

I wait as the tonic finishes kicking in, watch as his eyes clear and his movements aren’t so slow. And when I know he’s coherent enough to understand me, I say to Armin, “I want to make another bargain with you.”

He stares at me for a long moment.

And then laughs in my fucking face.

Chapter 35

Armin

to chose

It must be a joke.

There is simply no way Mavey is serious right now—no way she isn’t playing games with me right now.

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