Page 63 of Shadows of the Crown

He rolls his, slapping my hand away as he walks to the door. “I’m still angry with you.” I burst out laughing when he stalks from the room, muttering about my clear lack of self-control.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ariella

Weaving my umbral strand, I string together more wards than I normally would—something I’m becoming annoyingly efficient at. I toss the journal onto my bed and step into the bathroom, my breathing finally slowing. My palms press to the vanity as I study myself in the mirror.

This is the monster I’ve become.

Stiff hair matted with blood that looks darker than it should, courtesy of the fucking silver strands. The same hair I once loved for the reputation it gave me, but now hate because it’s colored with Isaiah’s—

A deep breath.

It’s difficult to see how much blood soaked into my clothes, but the imperceptibly dark patches are enough of an answer. The cream tile clashes with my hands, making it painfully obvious how grotesque they look. The same hands that just carried Isaiah back home.

There’s a light tinge of red covering parts of my face, streaking where the prince grabbed me—I’ve never been so conflicted about someone. The sincere hope in his eyes when he claimed to know what I did caught me off guard…Elowen seems to know more than I’d like her to, especially because she feels it necessary to inform the prince of every detail. Caspian would have lived with or without her help, so it was not vital that he know the manner in which I chose to impale him.

I am fucking weak.

I should have sliced through his heart, and this would no longer be an issue. That’s what I’ve been planning to do—the only thing I’ve wanted for years. My blade was a moment away from following through…but when I had the chance to uproot the king’s life?

I can fuck with him in other ways—that’s what I told myself when I held my trembling blade to the prince’s abdomen.

“I bet you believed killing Isaiah would get you what you want?” The king stands unmoving with a smugness only royals could exude. “That’s where you fucked up, Thalion.” The prince tugs against my wards, but I don’t release him immediately. He does not need to be privy to my words.

“I don’t think so, Ms. Mistaire. Your reaction confirmed this; though I am still debating on forgetting my son’s ridiculous begging for your life and taking it, anyway.” He sighs, bored. “No matter, I have a feeling something else will dothat for me very soon.” I fail to care what he means as I lean in to make sure he hears my next admission clearly.

“You just took away theonlything in my life that would have made me comply with your demands. Now I’ve nothing left to lose…so your precious son, Thalion?” I look at the prince over my shoulder before facing the king’s cold eyes once more. “He’s mine.”

My lip curls at every memory from today rummaging through my head—I will allow myself one minute to feel everything I need to before shutting it all down once more.

My body sags at the concession, and I press my eyes tightly closed as I lean over the vanity. The night with Caspian and every uncomfortable thing that settled inside me when I gave in to what I’d convinced myself was just pure lust. The horrific anticipation I felt walking toward Isaiah’s body, already knowing what I would find. Driving my blade into the prince after ignoring the half of my body that pleaded for me to spare him. Looking at my best friend one last time, before impulsively deciding to visit my parents’ home because I wasn’t ready to face Caspian yet. Or the king.

Any of it.

A strangled breath leaves me, and before I can fully comprehend what I’m doing, my fist connects with the mirror. A comforting pain rushes from my knuckles to the top of my arm as the brittle glass cracks with a sharp, skin-tingling sound. Thehairs along my skin rise when I meet the eyes of my fragmented reflection; a desolate image void of any lingering emotion.

I can handle emptiness. I prefer it.

My time in the shower is significantly longer than I’d anticipated. The blood from my clothes stained my skin, especially heavy where the water surrounded me when I stood in the fountain. I scrub my body so hard that I cannot tell where my blood begins and Isaiah’s ends. I watch the last of his life slip away, his entire existence folded into a few drops of crimson sinking into the drain.

Something inside me cracks when I turn the water off, drying quickly enough that I'm not tempted to look at my skin before exiting the bathroom. I don't want to see what I just did—how easy it was for me to wipe him from my body. I scrunch my eyes, shoving a shirt roughly over my head, groaning when it gets caught on my nose. Crumpling of the bedding fills the silence; something I would have once found comforting, but cannot stand right now.

I reach for my father's journal, only to pull my hand back. Something frantic tugs inside me, wanting to know everything he wrote, didn't write, crossed out, smudged…all of it. But I do not think it is the right time—there's too much happening in my head to process anything he wrote.

I sigh, sliding under the sheets, my eyes drifting closed before I'm even fully settled.

A blade is in my hand before my eyes snap open at the loud knocking on my door. I scan the dark room twice before I’m confident it’s only me in here. I quietly rise from the bed, tensing when another round of pounding sounds ahead of me. I slip on my training clothes and tie my hair up before walking to the door, my heart racing. There’s a sliver of light that passes through the bottom, adjusting with the person that is on the other side.

This could be a trap. Whoever it is must have discovered my wards when they weren’t able to break in…unfortunately for them, they will not walk away knowing my secret. I tug on my umbral strand and pull apart the essence just as the person frantically knocks again.

“Ariella, please open up!” My head falls back at the prince’s whisper-shouting, flutters moving through my abdomen. “I don’t have much time before someone else comes to get you.” My brows furrow as I yank the door open, being met with Caspian’s loose-fitted pants and unbuttoned shirt. I avert my eyes to find his—interesting he appears upset instead of hungry, as if he didn’t wander to this side of the castle for one thing.

I cross my arms and rest my chin on the blade, using the sting to ground my reaction. “If you woke me thinking I’d fuck you, I fear you are incredibly mistaken on how well you use your dick.” Misleading, but partially true.

“What?” he questions, his eyes looking to the right momentarily. “I’m not—I mean I would. I want to but—wait.Did you just say I’m bad at sex? Because I distinctly remember you admitting the opposite when I made you come a third time.” My eyes narrow at the fist he holds against his side.

“Did I?” A smile plays at my lips as I lean against the door frame. “I don’t recall making such an inaccurate statement.”

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