Page 39 of The Shadow Heir

Casimiro folded his arms across his chest and stared at me. “Look, I can see why you’d want to follow me—most mortal women do—but coming in here was unwise.”

I peeled my back off the rough rock wall and returned his hard stare. “No, it wasn’t. I learned your monsters aren’t as frightening as all the childhood stories make them out to be. They just need a chew toy.”

“He only answers to me. As is the case for most of our pets.” He lifted a hand partway in a gesture toward the remaining doors.

“Most?” I repeated. “Not all? How very disappointing that you have something you can’t control. I know that must be painful.”

Casimiro’s jaw muscle twitched. “Diego, hunt.”

In a breath, the hound was on its feet, its long fangs bared at me. A single paw took me down, and I was staring up at afoaming, dripping tongue as the vampire dog opened its mouth for my neck. I shoved against its chest, but it did no good.

“Sit,” ordered the prince. The dog backed off me and sat.

Trembling uncontrollably, I tried to wipe the slobber from my cheek, but I only succeeded in smearing it. My breaths quickened. I sat up, my rear end and elbow sore from falling on the stone, and pushed myself away from the monstrous dog until my back hit the uneven rock wall. I used the wall to pull myself up, my entire body trembling. I’d never been so scared in my life.

Casimiro clasped his hands behind his back and stared at me with an inscrutable expression.

“H-happy?” I snarled, struggling to speak as the suffocating fear refused to ebb. As long as that dog was looking at me with his red eyes, I couldn’t calm down.

Casimiro lifted a hand toward the only open door and snapped his fingers. The nightmarish hound trotted back into its cage and the door swung shut on its own, a satisfyingclinkindicating when it locked.

My back collapsed against the cavern wall again as a relieved moan broke from my lips like water from a cracked dam. Humiliation wasn’t enough to silence me, though I hated how ridiculous I must look to him. The fear was so palpable that my stomach hurt.

“There. He’s gone.”

His words startled me. I was so relieved at the dip’s disappearance that I couldn’t stop staring at the prince. He could have commanded the dog to chase me out of the cave, gnaw on my ankles, or snarl at me until I cried like a child. Instead, he’d sent it away, locking it back in its cage.

He had done me a favor.

What sort of game was he playing?

He turned to leave, but halfway across the skylit space, he paused. “Fear is the greatest form of control.” His footstepsmade small clicking sounds as he strode down the tunnel back to the arena.

Anger quickly replaced my fear, and I straightened up, using the wall for support until I was certain I was steady enough to walk. I scoffed as his words echoed in my head. He thought he had full control of me now that he’d made me so afraid, but I would show him—and all these wicked fae—that I couldn’t be controlled. Not fully.

I would not let fear win. I would make my father proud.

Eyes fixed on the exit, I stormed forward, but my foot kicked something on the dark floor. The rope.

Staring down at the slobber-covered toy, the prince’s words took on a new meaning. I bent down and collected the rope, glancing at the door where the dip had disappeared. Merely looking in that direction sent spears of distress down my arms and legs, but I brought the rope up to my chest and clutched it hard with both hands.

“Diego,” I tried, testing the hound’s name on my lips. My grip on the rope loosened. “Diego, sit.”

The door to the dip’s cage remained shut and locked, but the sour knot of fear in my stomach lessened. I inhaled a long, freeing breath.

“Diego, fetch.” I hurled the rope at the far wall of the cavern. It slung a few drops of slobber as it sailed end over end and landed with a flop.

A tentative smile spread across my lips. By mentally turning the monster into a pet, I found his memory to be far less paralyzing. I walked forward and retrieved the rope, taking a few cautious steps toward the iron bars of the grate.

“Diego,” I called, shaking the rope at the grate as my hand trembled violently.

Don’t let fear win.

I held the rope against the grate as the massive dog ambled down a narrow tunnel toward me. The iron made me feel safe, but I still jumped when the dog snapped its enormous fangs at the end of the rope, yanking it through the bars.

“G-good boy,” I managed as I scrambled backward.

Should I ever see him again, fear would have less control over me.

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