Page 40 of Reign of Betrayal

Walking over to Larah’s lifeless body, I carefully lift her and place her near the fire. Using the wet cloth, I clean her face, wiping away the blood that seeped from her mouth and nose. It won’t stop the hurt for Reign, but if I can soften the blow even slightly, I will. As I finish, my shadows alert me: James is coming. Shit. Here we go.

I make my way back into the woods to see him staring at me, a stern concerned look on his face.

“What exactly are you doing Luke? I knew… I knew you would be here.”

Walking over to him, I turn and stand beside him to see where his eyes are planted. The perfect picture of Reign and Larah. I wonder how much he saw. “I didn’t plan on coming here, so how could you possibly know?” I say with equivocation. James looks at me, seeing through my lie.

“Because I helped raise you. I know you to your core, Lukene,” he sighs. “Whatever is going on in that stupid princely brain of yours needs to stop, Luke. You are playing a dangerous game, and you know it. You know I love you as a son. Take my advice and leave the girl alone. She will be your undoing—or your end.”

She already is my undoing. I feel her slowly working her way in, without even realizing it, and I hate her for it. “She won’t be my anything. She means nothing to me.”

James scoffs. “Luke, what is going to happen if she wins the trials? What then? You know how it ends.”

“It doesn’t matter if she wins the trials or not. It doesn’t matter to me.” Now I am getting irritated. My shadows start to slowly swirl around my feet as I lean my neck to the left then the right trying to stretch out the tension that is building.

“Luke…” James places a hand on my shoulder, careful to avoid my chest. He knows better. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you need to clear it. I know it’s been a lot lately—taking over Skalhar, managing the uprisings in Wemdrah, the wyvern training. The Necrums are getting worse, and the groves are spreading despite everything we’ve tried. You need a clear head to deal with it all. Take some time and get your shit together.” He offers me a ghost of a smile, haunted by our history and the fatherly love he has for me.

I meet his eyes and nod. He’s right. He’s always right, and it’s infuriating. Clapping him on the shoulder, I take off without glancing back at Reign. I walk for what feels like an eternity until I reach the edge of the trees at the base of Serpent’s Reach. With each step, her haunting face flashes in my mind, her smart remarks echoing in my ears.

I whistle sharply, calling on Wrath, my wyvern. Within minutes she swoops down from the ridges, landing in front of me. I climb on her massive back, and she takes off, up over the ridge and soars over the open ocean.

I need this. The wind lashes at me, fierce yet freeing, a cold reminder of who I am—a heartless creature with darkness inside. The open sea stretches endlessly ahead, the morning sky a soft blue. Reign ignites a flame in my dark soul, a flame I desperately want—no, need—to extinguish. But how do you snuff out a gift as beautiful as a sunrise?

Reign is like an oleander: delicately beautiful, yet deadly and poisonous. She seeps into my world, ruining everything. My mind is a storm, my emotions tangled beyond comprehension. She is a prisoner, and I am a prince. There is nothing there, nothing could ever be between us. She hates me and I hate her. I could never give her what she would want, not that she’d ever want me.

I need to remember who I am. I am the Dark Prince. I have killed many, too many to count. I have taken over kingdoms. When people see me coming, they go the other way. They hide. I am Prince Lukene Frostborne of Umbrahdor, and I will remain the cold, heartless terror I have always been. The perfect dark monster everyone believes me to be.

I drop whatever feelings I thought I may have brewing for her in the ocean and let them sink to the bottom, praying to the gods and goddesses they do not resurface to torment me any further.

Iwake with a groggy heaviness pressing down on me, my entire body throbbing with pain. Blinking rapidly, I try to clear the haze clouding my vision. My head swims, and it takes a moment to remember—injuries, poison... Larah. The realization crashes into me like a stone wall.

Larah is gone.

Sitting up, I see Larah’s cold, lifeless body beside me. Oh gods—how could I forget? The memory slams into me like a wave, stealing my breath.

“Larah,” I choke out, my voice breaking into an unrecognizable sob. My sister. My best friend—the one who kept me alive through six years in the Hollows. Tears sting my eyes as I reach over, brushing her hair away from her pale, peaceful face.

“I’m sorry.” The words barely escape my throat. “I am so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” Tears spill freely now, racing down my chin. I rise slowly, every movement pulling at my flank where the spider impaled me. Glancing down, I find a black cloth binding the wound, the scent of herbs familiar and unmistakable. My parents’ healing mixture—it clings to me, stirring unwanted memories.

I look back at Larah. Her face is clean—too clean. Someone wiped the blood from her mouth, the same blood I saw spill out when she died. I force myself to my feet with a grunt. The sun is high—must be past noon.

Who helped me?

The thought rushes over me—Lukene. In the venom-induced haze, I thought he was here. But that’s impossible. He’s a royal—a corrupt, selfish bastard. He wouldn’t have helped me. Would he?

I only killed the one spider. Did he kill the other one? I shake my head. He wouldn’t interfere. I don’t believe anyone is allowed to. He wouldn’t anyway. He is the heartless Dark Prince. I have seen his cruelty. He wouldn’t help a meaningless prisoner.

It’s the venom. The venom can make you hallucinate. I must have cleaned Larah, used the poultice, and bound my wounds myself in my poisoned state. Yeah, that is exactly what happened. But where did the black cloth come from? I must have taken it from one of the prisoners I killed.

Maybe… maybe this is a hallucination. Some kind of cruel hallucination—a twisted nightmare. I kneel beside Larah and shake her gently, calling her name.

She doesn’t stir.

Grief tightens around me like a noose, and my heart fractures a little more as I realize this truly is real.

Among the harshness of nature’s racket, birds are chirping, bugs are buzzing, and the wind whispers through the trees. The sun hangs high in the sky, bleeding its golden rays upon the Shadowed Forest. However, among this beautiful scenery there is an oppressive sense of grief enveloping me. It’s like a suffocating cloak—weighing heavily upon my heart.

It is unfathomable, inconceivable even, that Larah, a skilled fighter, lay dead before me. Her once vibrant and loving spirit snuffed out by a cruel fate. How has she become so gravely injured? Questions echo through the corners of my mind, unanswered. The effects of the drugs we were given by the royals must have lingered, causing her to be weakened. I hate them. I hate the royals.

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