Page 90 of The Shadow Heir

Zara was radiant, and when I flashed her a smile, she lit the room with her own. I walked straight to her, slipped my hand into her curls, and pulled her ear to my lips.

“There you are, little spark,” I whispered. Her quiet exhale made the side of my mouth twist into a grin. “Dance with me.”

Her hand slipped around my elbow, and I led her onto the dance floor, which vacated as we stepped onto it. The fae melted back into the crowd, not wanting to be seen approving of my choice should the king arrive while we danced. Anyone caughtoffending my father would die tonight, and beneath the ice-thin veneer of celebration was the buzzing tension of fear.

On the dance floor, I settled my palm on her waist and firmly but gently gripped her lifted hand. Her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, and her smile, while beautiful, was not fully convincing. She was afraid, and I couldn’t very well tell her not to be.

We might not survive tonight. Until an hour ago, I’d not intended to. I’d assumed she would take the chance to leave, to finally have what she’d wanted since I stole her away from her home.

The music began.

But this spark of a woman hadn’t left, and now everything hinged on her wild plan.

She followed my lead like we’d been dancing together for years. Her feet knew the moves before I even suggested them, and her timing was flawless. The searing pain of my curse ebbed from my mind as I watched her and held her tiny frame in my hands. This was what it felt like to be alive.

I released her into a spin across the dance floor and her dress mimicked flames as she whirled. Several of my courtiers cheered, and my heart soared. When she landed again in my arms, her back to my chest for a brief moment, I felt like I truly was on fire.

“I love you,” I breathed as she spun again to face me. Perhaps she hadn’t heard me.

But her eyes were wide and her smile captivating. My body ached to hear her reply, but as she opened her mouth, her words were stolen as a crackle of magic buzzed across the room, silencing all other sounds.

The air beneath the golden arch rippled, and my father stepped into the room.

39

Casimiro

Pain seared in my veins as I reached for Zara’s waist, pushing her behind me. Everyone in the room dropped to a knee in a wavelike movement, including Zara, as my father’s magic compelled reverence.

His eyes landed on me, the only one still standing. He frowned. Behind him, six guards marched through the arch, followed by two men wearing the liquid black half-cloaks and ghoulish masks of the Wild Hunt.

“Lords and Ladies of the Shadow Court,” one of the guards announced, “bow before the King of Shadows, King Rykar Oscuro.”

The room hushed, save for the white wolf in the corner emitting a low whine from his cage. Among animals, he might be a prince of night, but he trembled at the king of shadows. Felipe swept toward the golden archway, along with Viro and Erik, pressing the crowd back so all could see and make way for the king. As my righthand man, Felipe was expected to do this, and he was likely only trying to save his own life, but watching him fawn over my father fanned the rage inside me.

My father stepped silently through the crowd toward me.

Zara clutched her fists against my back. She deserved to burn brightly for years to come, but she’d chosen this darkness—my darkness.

I lifted my chin as my father neared, running through the next few minutes in my head. The members of the Wild Hunt sneered at several members of my court. The Hunters belonged to no court but were welcome in all, unlike most solitary fae. They wore their ridiculous black capes like crowns and carried their precious helmets under their left arms, like soldiers.

My father wore a high-collared deep blue jacket with silver buttons and filigree thread stitched across his broad chest. Black, he’d always said, was what he’d worn proudly after the war of Sun and Shadow, but he’d left the color behind a thousand years ago, choosing deep blues and purples and grays instead, the true color of shadows.

I swallowed any indication of the pain in my blood and met my father’s gaze. Only when he was chest to chest with me, did he look down at my darkening skin, hungry to see the black lines.

He took a long inhale of breath, making me wait. I cracked the knuckles on my right hand and then my left.

“Father,” I finally said, thankful that my height allowed me to look down at him.

“Ah, son. I see that you are looking well.”

I translated that as his displeasure to find me still standing. His eyes shone with the same hatred that had been there since I was a boy. As I’d matured, I’d watched my siblings die as they received this same greeting upon his return from an extended absence.

But what he didn’t know was that my siblings, his own children, had been quietly rebelling against his magic for centuries, crafting an antidote to his incurable curse that improved as each heir perfected its properties. It allowed us toendure the pain of the curse, although not the end result—our deaths. Survival was only possible if the curse never entered our bodies.

I’d found comfort in the knowledge that Alba would not inherit the curse that had killed every other Shadow Heir. But now, as Zara’s small frame stepped boldly around mine, her face firm and fearless, I wanted so badly to stay by her side. To protect her. Tolive.

My father glanced around the room, nodding at the faces silently watching us. “It looks like you have pulled together a rather magnificent celebration tonight, son. And on such short notice.” He eyed the pointed dome above us. “An interesting choice, this ruin.”

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