Page 50 of The Shadow Heir

Not all.

“But after I help you, you’ll watch me die as easily as you’ll watch me live.” A small scoff escaped my lips.

He clapped his hand so hard on the ice-slick rock wall beside me that I yelped in surprise. “You mistake the reason I am watching you, Valencia.” His breaths came fast and hot now, swirling in the cold night air.

For several seconds, I stared at him, unable to respond. My brow worked, trying to make sense of his confession. Hedidwant me to die. Didn’t he?

“Only so you can use me as a pawn,” I finally managed.

He seemed relieved at my words, as his shoulders sank and his breaths slowed. “Here. Take this.” He grabbed my hand and slapped something small and pointed into it. “Keep this in your pocket tomorrow during the trial and you’ll survive. I’ll find you when it’s over. We’ve spent enough time out here.”

Casimiro turned, and in an instant, his frame shook as his shadow departed from him, flying off into the starlit night. His body kept walking, vanishing quickly around a corner on the narrow trail cut into the side of the mountain.

I stood there in stunned silence, holding a small ruby in my palm and the memory of his arms around me, pulling me from the water.

22

Zara

As I stepped outside into the frost-coated dawn, an anchor of dread dropped in my stomach. The dress that had insisted on being worn tonight was a luxurious purple ballgown with a daring neckline and heaps of ruched fabric creating a sea of ruffles around my feet. Not exactly the type of gown one would wear for a survival trial that involved running, but the dress did have long sleeves, a fact that I relished as the bitter air stung my cheeks and neck.

The dress also had small pockets hidden among the folds of fabric, almost like the dress knew I needed a small place to store the stone, and inside one of those pockets rested the small ruby Casimiro had given me. The entertainers had been summoned to assemble in the arena below, and I knew I must descend the steep stairs. But I couldn’t quite bring my feet to cooperate, to march me toward a deadly trap.

I reached into my pocket and rolled the small stone between my fingers, letting the facets prick at my skin. What lay below was designed to kill me, but the heir had assured me I would survive.

Trusting him felt wrong. I took a step forward. Trusting him could turn out to be a massive joke he and his shadowy friends would laugh about as my body rotted on the sand. Another step. The memory of Casimiro’s arms around me as he’d pulled me from the waters of my homeland both chilled and warmed me, and I took three more steps down toward the arena. Hehadsaved me. Perhaps he would again. The way his veins had turned black and his face had pinched with pain pricked my curiosity. He was an immortal, yet he suffered from something he couldn’t heal, even with all the potions and spells at his disposal. And he too faced an enemy who wanted him dead.

This felt oddly like it placed him on the same level as the entertainers now assembling in the arena. I burned to know what sort of ailment flowed in his veins, and why he couldn’t heal it. His sister seemed overly chatty for a fae princess. Perhaps I could finally accept her invitations to duel and have the chance to talk to her, get her to reveal what plagued Casimiro. But it wasn’t Alba I wanted to talk to. A flip of dread mixed with excitement rattled my already frenzied heart as I pictured speaking to Casimiro again. He had the information I wanted about Talia, and I would find out whatever he wished from the mortals in order to hear what had become of my dear friend.

I’d reached the bottom of the long stairway. The arena sands, painted gray with dawn’s meager light, waited before me.

My legs felt like lead from the running they’d forced me to do yesterday. We’d been chased by rats that would climb up our legs if we stood still. That was enough to get me sprinting through the sand.

My stomach growled at me, but I ignored it, casting my gaze around the dimly lit arena. The stands were beginning to fill with fae in all states of dress and varying degrees of mental stability. Their night of revelry must have been one for the record books,and I shivered with disgust. Two fae with twisting horns and sparkling dinner suits stumbled down two full levels of stone benches, laughing as they tumbled.

Ivy wrung her hands as she stood on the final stair before the sand. Eudoria had already marched quietly into the arena, her face to the approaching dawn. Tomas, Samuel, and Adán stood near the entrance, their heads close together as they exchanged whispered words. Strategies.

I glanced over at Ivy. “Together,” I whispered. She nodded at me, her face pale.

The energy in the growing crowd was reaching a fever pitch as the fae prepared to watch the trial. Goblets of wine clanked in loud toasts, and the volume of the laughter increased as the darkness faded.

My upper lip curled. “Heathens,” I breathed, tearing my eyes away from the fae as they tipped forward and back in riotous laughter.

Ivy shot me a warning glance, like I might possibly offend these deplorable fae.

“Hey, over there,” Tomas said, pointing behind me.

I swiveled on the last step and spotted two people throwing punches a few rows up. Both were wearing the white servants’ tunics. One of the men bent to grab something from a nearby fae. A flash of silver caught the light as he stood and slashed at the other man.

Ivy pressed both hands to the sides of her face. “What are they doing? Somebody stop them!”

Tomas climbed up from the arena into the stands, leaping over the stone benches two at a time.

Samuel crossed his arms and stared at the fight. “The fae probably provoked it. They’re itching for blood.”

“Be careful,” I called to Tomas.

Before Tomas could reach them, the larger of the two men charged his opponent and jammed a knife into the man’s stomach. I turned aside, unable to watch. Ivy tugged my arm, and I clung to her.

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