Page 5 of The Shadow Heir

Felipe snorted. “Efficiency. Who needs that when you’re immortal?”

His joke fell flat as I stared back at him with a look of mild horror.

He coughed. “Sorry.”

The ghost of Augustín might as well have been standing in the moonlit forest with us, so vibrant were the memories of him playing in my head. Of the last time I’d spoken to him, taking from his hand a worn journal. Of the way his arms had turned a solid black as pain racked his body. Not all of us were immortal.

The bound mortal stared between us, his rasping breaths loud as a saw in my ear, grating on my nerves.

Felipe’s smile returned and he filled the silence. “Let me guess, rich, stupid noble makes bargain for a child? Doesn’t think to add any specification clauses?”

I nodded crisply, thankful for the reminder of why we were here. “Yes. Should be easy enough.”

With a simple spell, Felipe lengthened the bound man’s chains to wrap around the coffin. It wasn’t very nice of us, considering how much humans feared death, but we couldn’t have him running off like a rabbit while we collected the last mortal from this region.

The forest was a lovely place at night, dark as any place under the moon could be, save the underground halls of Nightsong, where my court made its home. The shadows danced for us as we walked between the trees, down a little road with wagon ruts, toward a large manor house on the outskirts of a citycalled Leor. Little faces peered at us from the darkness, and I heard the hushed exclamations of both fear and wonder. The night-dwelling creatures in these lands worshiped the Shadows, ignorant of the existence of our oldest enemy, the Night Sovereign, whose court had never fully recovered its strength after the war that granted my father his throne.

One such creature padded out onto the road on soft paws—adip, his furry back as high as my waist, his pointed ears flattened, and his tail tucked in submission. I’d never even met this particular animal, but he knew his place. The hound likely smelled Diego on my clothes and knew he could trust me. I knelt to rub its belly as it rolled over on its back, tongue lolling out, gleaming red eyes glowing. This one smelled atrocious and its fur was matted.

“Don’t tell me you want to keep it,” Felipe drawled, rolling his eyes.

I cleared my throat. “Not at all.” I stared down at the dog—or hellhound, as the humans often called them—and scratched at a tick lodged behind one of his ears. With a quick spell, I dislodged the blood-bloated bug. The dog hopped up and flopped his ears back and forth.

Felipe cringed away. “It’ll fling fleas onto us.”

I stood and brushed away the black fur clinging to my white shirt. “You do realize these animals work for us? You could treat them with a little less disdain.”

Felipe sniffed.

The massive dogs didn’t have much magic, but they could be excellent spies. Few fae possessed the magic to speak directly to an animal’s mind, so the dogs were most often employed as trackers or fearmongers, but the dogscouldreveal much, if they were trained.

“Come on, if you pet every hellhound, we’re never going to get there before sunrise.”

I shot my companion a pointed glare. “I’m coming. And there’s no need to rush. This is a nobleman’s daughter we’re talking about. She’s likely never lifted more than a paintbrush in her life, and I bet you these rubies in my pocket that we’ll have her walking out after us willingly, like a good little puppy.”

Felipe grinned. “Deal.”

The words had no sooner left my mouth than an arrow whooshed out of the night and stuck straight into my shoulder.

“Ah,” I groaned as the arrow shook my frame. I frowned and shot Felipe a pointed glare that dared him to say a word. But instead of teasing me, Felipe tensed, shifting his stare from me to the forest.

I rubbed the muscle around the puncture wound, more concerned with finding my attacker than dealing with the wound.

My eyes spotted a figure, deep in shadow but not invisible to me. The shot had been impressive, considering the range, the dim lighting, and the tree branches hanging across the road. The person must have noticed me staring, because it nocked another arrow and let it loose. I tipped sideways and let it fly straight past me.

Then, with a small yank, I ripped the arrow from my shoulder and tossed it aside. The skin instantly began to knit back together, leaving me with little more than an ugly bloodstain on my loose white shirt.

At that, the human—for I detected no glamour or traces of magic—darted out from its hiding place and bolted for the distant manor house.

I stormed toward the attacker.

Her. I stormed towardher. As she ran, I saw an enormous swath of dark hair swish out behind her and the distinct outline of a ruffled dress. I’d been shot by a mortal woman. She moved with the speed of youth.

Rage seethed in my blood as I stalked my attacker. Despite the fact that most Avencians stayed up to midnight—a result of my court’s influence on their lands—it was an odd hour for a mortal woman to be out shooting arrows, alone. I had time enough to handle this mortal and still collect on my father’s bargain. Lucky for me, this attacker lived in the same house as the last mortal on our list.

The lastfemalemortal. Who, as of today, was twenty years old.

But a nobleman’s daughter wouldn’t be out at the edge of her estate at night. Would she?

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