Page 20 of Taken By the Shadow Prince

Unprompted, he states, “You know, I find it odd that you don’t talk very much.”

I turn to look at him, my lips pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t seem to be deterred by how much I appear not to care. “Usually, your kind likes to fill every silence with useless jabbering. You, on the other hand, look like you’re fighting the urge to strangle me any time I start conversation with you. Why is that?”

“Perhaps you are just a very strangle-able person, and it has nothing at all to do with you speaking.”

Armin chuckles. “You’re right about that, you know. I was strangled a lot when I was younger.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Who would strangle a demon prince?

He seemed to hear the words I didn’t say out loud. “My brother, Elix, has a penchant for taking his anger out on many unsuspecting throats.” There’s a wicked grin on his lips, which I notice are full and pouty, but I quickly squash my thoughts down.

My own lips try to twitch up in response, but I force them back into flat line as I respond. “From that smile of yours, I’d say your own throat was not unsuspecting.”

He chuckles again, the sound deep, velvety. It reminds me of the most complete darkness, like shadows. “No, not always. That was part of the fun, of course.”

“Of course,” I mutter sarcastically, though I don’t mean for him to hear me.

And yet he does.

Louder laughter this time. “When you’re moved in and settled in Atheya, I’ll teach you some of the most conniving ways to get under a demon’s skin.”

“How kind of you.” The words are useless things, but I say them anyway. My thoughts seem to rush out of my mouth before I can swallow them down.

Armin gives me a flash of teeth that I think might be another grin before he pulls on the reins of his horse, settling the mare to a slow pace. I do the same, following him as he turns down a path that looks as if it could be nothing more than a deer trail as it heads into a denser part of the surrounding forest.

But then I see the house.

Cottage, really. Not much more than a well-maintained shack. Chickens flock about in a coop right beside the house, and garden beds teeming with colorful fruits and vegetables border the property. The house itself has a hay roof, and the walls constructed with stones and packed mud. This isn’t just a house, to whoever lives inside. Not a home, either—it’s someone’slivelihood.

And that someone is a woman—big boned, but fit, I would say. Stocky in a way that makes me wonder if she built everything here—dideverything here all by herself.

She bustles toward us with narrowed eyes until she makes out Armin sitting atop his horse, and then those eyes widen. As Armin dismounts, she asks, “Am I out of time?”

Out of time? What does that mean?

I somehow keep myself from asking as I slide off my horse as well, watching as Armin pulls the woman in and presses a kiss to her cheek. She doesn’t seem wholly opposed to that kiss, to his closeness. It makes all of this even more strange.

“Not quite, Halle. You’re getting closer, though.” What are they talking about? About... her death? That’s what it sounds like, at least.

Halle doesn’t seem all that concerned by his words and nods. “Oh. I’d just thought...” She stops talking, shrugs her shoulders.

Okay, then. If I’m correct, and from the way she speaks, I think I am, then... she made a deal with Armin that cost her what must be over half of her lifetime. I’m suddenly a little more grateful for my bargain now that I know the pricecouldhave been my death. But—whatdidshe ask for, for the price to be her life, however many years later? I won’t ask, no matter how piqued my interest is. Bargaining with demons isn’t the sort of thing most people talk about.

“Yes, well, I’ve got a bit of an opportunity for you. And a request for water, if you’ll have us.”

That last word,us, has Halle sliding her eyes over to me, as if she hadn’t noticed I was here at all. She says, “Right. And who is she?” Even as she looks at me, she isn’t talking to me.

Armin waits for me to answer her, anyway. So I do. “Mavey,” I say, holding my hand out. “Could we talk?”

Halle stares at my outstretched hand, then hesitatingly slides her own into it, shaking with those scarred fingers, that sun kissed skin. Yes, there’s no doubt in my mind that this homestead is her doing, and hers alone. “Fine,” she says, retracting her hand. “Come with me.”

We follow her inside her cottage. It’s a little bigger looking on the inside, but not by much. Still, it’s the right amount of room for one person.

All the furniture is wooden, and if I had to guess, made with those calloused hands of Halle’s. There’s a bookcase crowded with old copies of literature, clearly not updated or added to within the last decade or so. A short hallway to what I’d have to assume are the bathroom and her bedroom lies to one side of the living room, but we go on the other, where the kitchen sits behind a half-wall. She gestures for us to sit at a beautiful dining table, and we do.

Armin catches my eye. He taps his chest with an index finger, and I take it for what it is—he wants the lead on this one. Fine with me. Hell, he could have the lead on all of them, if he wanted. I certainly wouldn’t mind if I didn’t have to do any begging.

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