Page 9 of The Shadow Heir

The darkness chuckled, and I shivered despite the sweat on my back. Each long second that he remained silent, the muscles in my chest tightened.

After a minute, my fear burst out. “Are you going to stay hidden, or will you show your face?”

“You are afraid,” came the prince’s deep voice.

My father had tried to teach me to conceal my emotions, but I’d mostly been terrible at it—at least, according to his continual lack of approval. Never good enough. Never stoic enough. Never unfeeling enough. I’d assumed it was because he wanted me tofit into proper society, where women were expected to remain quiet and demure at all times, but perhaps it was because he didn’t want the fae to be able to read me so easily.

A frenzied knock at my bedroom door triggered another small yelp—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so jumpy. A soft chuckle from the shadows made my upper lip curl as I hurried into bed, spending five agonizing seconds tangling once again in the frustrating net.

The door opened, and I went still as a statue, despite my heart trying to explode from my chest. Candlelight flooded the room, and my eyes did a quick survey of every corner. No one was there.

The upstairs housemaid poked her head in. “Everything all right, señorita?”

If her definition of all right included being stalked by shadows as they awaited the moment they could steal me from the mortal world, just as my fatheragreedso many years ago, sure, I was fine.

For a split second, I thought about screaming again, telling her to wake the guards and muster the troops—we didn’t actually have any troops—and ring every alarm bell in Leor until this sticky shadow fae was lying in pieces in the woods somewhere and I could go back to normal life.

But then my father would die.

And, though my thoughts toward him at this moment were muddy and painful, I couldn’t breathe at the thought of him dying. So I nodded, forced a smile, and dismissed the maid.

“Good girl,” the man said as soon as the door closed.

I sat up in bed, scanning the room until my eyes fixed on the silver flash of moonlight on a twirling blade. My blade.

He sat—no, lounged—in the chair before my dressing table, which was half-turned toward the enormous windows overlooking the western side of the estate, one leg hooked overthe armrest while his head was tilted back against the ornate wing of the chair.

“I hate you,” I blurted, lacking anything more intelligent to say to him.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. It’ll make everything much more fun.”

My throat tried to close up. I wanted to ask him what he meant byeverything, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t really want to know what these fae had in store for me. Not yet. After all, I’d marry in a few hours, and maybe that would be enough to break the curse.

I flung the covers off and hopped out of bed. I wouldnotbe sleeping in the presence of this pointy-eared creature.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he drawled, not moving from his relaxed position.

Sweat blanketed my back, and I was nowhere near sleepy. “If I only have one day left before you—beforeIgo, then I’m not going to waste time sleeping.”

“You don’t have to sleep, but then I wouldn’t touch any doors or windows, if I were you. They’ve been enchanted to put you into averydeep sleep.”

I glared at the door to my bedroom, as if I could see the magic infused in the wood. He might be lying. But fae weren’t supposed to be able to lie. I sighed heavily.

“I really hate you.”

His shadowy features broke into a smile, then he stood. “I’m thrilled by your level of affection toward me, but I really must be going.”

I blinked. “You’re leaving?” Hope filled my chest.

“I only needed to escort you back here and place my enchantments. Now that you’re trapped in here, I’m free to go.” He moved toward the window. “I don’t have time to sit around with you all night. The enchantment will shift to include theentire house when the sun comes up so you can move about your day. I’m generous like that. But you won’t be able to run.” With hands braced against the window casing, he looked back at me. “I will return tonight. Look for me. My name is Casimiro. Oh, and happy birthday, Zara Valencia.”

Before I could so much as clench my jaw, he was gone, dissipating into the night like smoke and taking my dagger with him.

5

Casimiro

In the cover of night, my shadow form wasn’t visible to her, so I turned, my wings silently holding me aloft, and watched the mortal as she hurried to her bed and collapsed facedown. For a moment she lay so still, I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. So much for her claims of not wanting to sleep on her final day in the mortal world.

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