Page 40 of Shadows of the Crown

He focuses on something over my shoulder, forcing me to snap my fingers in his face to garner the attention I seek. “Who. Sent. You?” I demand, not kindly.

“He’ll get what he wants. He always gets what he wants,” he breathes, coughing blood fromthe movement.

“What the fuck does that mean? Who?” He slips before I finish asking, splashing into the puddle once more.

My fingers tap against each other as I look up, barely able to make out the shapes of the other six men. I stand, snatching my blade and marching to the unconscious one. I shove it through his chin, ignoring his last hissing breath when a speck of gold peeks from under his black, oversized jacked. My hands rip the buttons open, pausing when—even in the dark—the red and gold of the royal crest sears into my eyes.

I tug on my luminal strand, needing to confirm what my mind tells me I’m seeing. I still cannot tug on that, or any, strand. My fists clench to the point skin tears from the pressure of my nails.

There is only one reason I can’t access my essence. One reason why my leg does not hurt in the slightest after being penetrated with an arrow.

I reach to dig my fingers into the wound where a thick, oily substance coats the tips. I hold them up, narrowing my eyes—there’s no need for any light. I would recognize that deep blue from a realm away.

“Fuck me!” I slice the crest from the royal guard, pocketing the palm-sized fabric. I waste no time grabbing the arrow that pierced me and sprinting back to the castle.

I take stock of my body, cursing when I’m unable to tell if I’m cold because of the weather or the poison. I have maybe an hour before it infects me with permanent damage.

My stomach flutters. There is only one person I can go to this with…he holds all my other secrets. What’s one more?

I reach the castle quickly, my vision beginning to blur at the edges. I pass several guards and staff who stare with their mouths agape—I’m certain I look terrifying, dripping with endless water and blood.

I enter the prince’s hallway, Gavriel immediately pushing from the wall and blocking my path to the door I need.

“Move or meet the Angel,” I demand, stopping in front of the version I think is the real him from the two standing before me.

“Fuck off. Thought I told you to stay away.”

“Let me see him. Now.” We study each other, and I am so close to shoving this arrow through his infuriating eyes.

“No.”

“Gavriel, I swear to the fucking Angel.” My shouting is certainly reaching other wings of the castle. Fuck if I care—I feel as though I’ve drunk several bottles of wine. A poison that makes you enjoy dying—at least the king had good taste. “You will let me see him right now.”

“Are you fucking drunk? You can’t even talk straight. You’re absolutely not getting near him.” I’m not confident I’ll hit his face if I try, but that does not deter my attempt. I swing my fist and he catches it easily, to my utter confusion.

“What is going on, Gav?” A door swings open, the prince’s eyes widening when he sees me. He rushes over, taking my hand from Gavriel’s. “Ariella…are you okay? What happened?”

“Is—it’s not my—mine,” I stutter, scrunching my eyes closed at the intense wave of dizziness swimming through me.

“Are you drunk?” My eyes slowly snap open, meeting his concerned gaze.

I think I shake my head. “No—fuck, I’m dizzy,” I giggle—giggle—and pull out the arrow I tucked under my arm. “Hallow. I don—don’t have saida.”

He pales. “By the Angel. Fuck. Gavriel, get Elowen.” I murmur something about him being a good boy and listening. “You,” he tugs me gently through an open door, “are coming with me. You’ll kill me if I let anyone see you like this.”

I laugh, groaning at the pain in my chest. “I’m will kill you any—way, dear prince,” I sing, pressing a hand to my ribs.

“Stop talking, Ariella. Fucking Angel, your fingers are turning blue already. How long ago did this happen?” Who does he think he is to question me?

“Be—fore I came got here.” He huffs a breath, pulling me down onto something soft.

I fall back to my elbows, sinking lightly into the fluffy material. Something is…is not right. I cannot ascertain what he says next, but the room shifts and I’m covered with what seems to be every blanket in the realm.

“No,” I drag out the word on a whine, weakly attempting to push the inferno off. “So hot.” Hands grab mine, their touch warm but comforting. And a reminder.

I’m dying.

“I know, angel. But I need to keep your body temperature up.” I wince at a loud noise, followed by shouting. I attempt to tell them to turn the damn sun off, though my traitorous lungs are barely working.

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