Page 23 of The Shadow Heir

Survive, I told myself, tearing my attention from the glittering wine to the rest of the tables’ contents. There were mounds of grapes, elaborate towers of apples, and small statues of everything from dancing maidens to dragons in flight. I squinted at a pale-yellow statue of a goblin bent in a deep bow.Cheese.The statues were made of cheese.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“I’m Ariana. I’m to be your…I’m to show you…I’ll take you where you need to go, when you need to go there, and that’s it. You look like you came from money, but I’m not your servant.”

I stopped abruptly. She noted my pause but didn’t stop walking. As I glanced around the room, I realized she wore white, as did all those who were filling goblets or replacing food on the tables. Not one person in white was seated—save the heir.

Malik had explained why the servants and the entertainers didn’t get along. But we were all mortals, trapped here against our will. The animosity seemed pointless.

I hurried after Ariana, trying to think of the right words to disarm her. “Is there anything I should know about these fae, to help me survive?” Maybe if she thought I trusted her, that would help.

Instead she whirled on me, her pale brows furrowed. “You entertainers think you deserveeverythingsince you’re facing death.”

My mouth hung open, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say before she marched onward. Desperate to find at least one friend here, I hurried after her. “I don’t think I deserve anything, but Idowant to live. I only barely survived that”—I gestured back toward the dance floor—“and I have no idea how I’ll survive the next terrible thing they make me do. But I’m going to try.”

Ariana’s frown didn’t relax as she eyed me up and down. My dress was wet up to my knees and sliding pitifully across the stone floor, and my hair had long since wiggled free of its hold and tumbled in unruly curls over my shoulders. I must have looked a total mess. The woman, not much older than me, sighed loudly through her nose. “They’re not your friends,” she said, flicking her gaze at the fae. “No matter what you think. They will try to woo you with their riches and their looks and their endless temptations, but they’re just trying to weaken you. They know mortals can hardly resist the flash of wealth.” Her expression remained hard as she stared at me. The fae sitting near us paid us no mind.

“Ariana, my life was just snatched away from me. I’m here until the fae kill me or a year elapses. I couldn’t care less about the wealth these creatures offer.” I glanced up at the prince’s table, but his back was to me as he spoke to the woman beside him. “I hate them as much as you do.”

The tension between her brows lessened, but only marginally. Still, I considered it a victory. “They can only kill you in the trials,” she said, her voice low, “and never outside of those events. Be that as it may, these fae have one year to prove their superiority over your mortality, and believe me, they always succeed.”

I pinched my lips before responding. “Always?”

Ariana turned and kept walking. “I’ve only been here for three years. In that time, not one entertainer has survived their year of trials.”

The heaviness of those words made it hard to keep walking, but I put one foot in front of the other, forcing myself to follow.

Ariana slowed her pace, allowing me to walk beside her. “Their fruit is often enchanted as well. St. John’s wort or cayenne pepper can help ward off enchantments, but it’s best to avoid the fruit.”

I nodded firmly. “Thank you.”

She straightened. “They always assign me to wealthy women like you. And in my experience, people who’ve come from privilege and comfort die the fastest.” She let those words sink in a moment before she added, “That scowl on the prince’s face a minute ago when you survived his task…whatever trial he creates next, he’ll try to pay you back for beating him tonight. I know you want a friend, but I can’t—they’ve all—I just can’t.” She wrung her hands at her waist as she spoke, her gaze pinned to the floor. She’d watched entertainers die over and over again. I couldn’t imagine what that did to someone.

It was doing a fair amount to my roiling insides at the moment.

We continued weaving through the tables toward the edge of the cavern, far from the lake. The rock floor was as smooth as glass, and streaks of gemstones in the walls sparkled in the light of the glowing orbs. Fear pricked inside me, but I continued to follow the woman, glancing up at the cages every few steps. Ariana led me to a tight corner of the cavern, where the slanted ceiling was lower, and a trickle of water dampened the nearest wall.

“This is your table.” She waved a stiff hand at the people already seated, then she nodded and marched away with hurried steps.

The five faces watching me were not smiling. Their eyes traveled up and down my frame, some lingering, others flicking away in disinterest. Not a single gaze appeared welcoming. Among the people seated were two women and three men, all of whom appeared older than me. One woman and one man had gray hair. I couldn’t imagine them performing trials like the one I’d just completed.

I’d intended to smile at these people, to disarm them, but my eyes were drawn to movement in the cage above their table. My jaw fell open in shock. A small dragon shuffled uncomfortably in the cramped space, its wings rising partway, then clamping back down against its back. Its long neck was curled upward, pressed against the iron bars.

My mouth hung loose as I watched the creature squirm. I’d never known they were so…beautiful. The black scales glinted like oil-slicked water. The orange eye facing me rolled here and there and its nostrils flared in annoyance. The claws that gripped the cage were as long as the dinner knives on the table.

“The cages are iron.” The man who spoke had a beard and, of the seated humans, was the only one not frowning or staring off into space. “And the cages are enchanted so nothing…falls on us while we eat.”

I couldn’t contain a disgusted twist of my lips. Dragon dung wasn’t something I wanted to experience ever, but especially not as an addition to the chocolate fountain that bubbled on their table like some poisoned brook.

Then one young woman, whose face was mostly covered by a curtain of her mousy brown hair, scooted over so that a space opened up beside her on the bench-like seat.

“Here, you can sit by me,” she said, her voice quiet but friendly. Her eyes looked like they hadn’t seen a full night’s rest in a while.

I smiled down at her as I stepped toward the vacant space. “Thank you.”

As I hitched up the hem of my damp dress to step down onto the bench, every person facing me at the table straightened and paled, their eyes fixed on something behind me.

“I’m offended,” said a deep, familiar voice. “And here I was assuming a human wouldn’t possibly deign to ignore my dinner invitation.”

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