Page 11 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
‘Positive.’
‘That’s an interesting development.’
‘Interesting? Don’t you mean terrifying? The power of a shadow wraith and a Warsword combined? You know they’re gifted by the Furies, don’t you? Gods-given strength, speed and agility… Some of them are even rumoured to be immortal, Adri.’
‘Well… Yes, but…’
‘I didn’t realise there’d be a “but”, General.’
‘Well, he’s not a wraith now.’
‘No,’ Drue allowed. ‘But mark my words, Adrienne. It’s in there. And I’m going to get it to show its claws.’
She drew a sharp breath.
‘Do you yield?’he’d asked her atop the cliff, his body pressed to hers.
‘For now,’she’d replied. But the wordneverhad echoed in her mind. She was going to learn his secrets, draw him out, and destroy him and all his kind. She would do what she had to for the survivors of Naarva, for her family.
‘Come on,’ Adrienne said. ‘Our loitering is drawing attention.’
She was right, so Drue followed her to the long oak table at the heart of the mess hall, swiping a flagon of wine along the way and settling herself beside her friend.
As soon as they were seated, the usual chaos ensued. As the best ranger and the general of the guerrilla forces, they were in high demand. People flocked to them, asking questions, commenting on their recent accomplishments and just generally wanting to be in their vicinity. Adrienne handled it better than Drue, who, although she had once led the life of a sociable noblewoman, had since found such dealings draining. She kept up appearances, though, understanding that she had earned the respect of her people with her own blood and sweat. She had run out of tears long ago.
The crowd around the young women parted as Fendran led the two Warswords to their table. With a cocky grin, Talemir Starling took up the place opposite Drue, his hulking great frame dwarfing the table and bench.
‘This is a sight for sore eyes,’ Baledor, her father’s friend and right-hand man, announced, seeming to admire the Warswords along with Adrienne. ‘The best of both our lands united again.’
‘A cause for celebration indeed,’ Talemir said wryly, lifting his cup in salute to Drue.
What in the realms was he playing at?
Baledor clapped a hand on the Warsword’s shoulder. ‘Drue here is our best ranger. She’s like a hound on the scent when a wraith is near.’
‘Is that so?’ Talemir smiled softly.
Drue clenched her jaw.
Beside her, Adrienne sized him up. ‘When Naarva fell, the midrealms were no longer safe. Darkness was coming for us all. But Drue helps fight that darkness. Every day.’
‘So I’ve seen firsthand,’ he allowed. ‘So you have a lot of women here wielding blades?’
Adrienne clicked her tongue in annoyance, mirroring Drue’s own feelings. ‘That prophecy from years ago was a load of shit and every woman in Naarva knew it the moment Ciraun fell. We’ve been breaking that law ever since, and fuck anyone who tries to stop us.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Drue said, clinking her cup against her friend’s before turning to the warriors. ‘We leave your precious Warsword steel alone, so what have you to complain about?’
‘That remains to be seen,’ Talemir replied, a glint in his eyes.
‘Ladies…’ Fendran warned. ‘A little less hostility, perhaps?’
Drue waved him off. ‘They asked.’
To Talemir’s right, his protégé, Wilder, studied her closely before glancing from Drue to Adrienne, as though he’d just realised she was there. His eyes lingered on the blonde general a little longer than necessary.
‘We weren’t aware that so many people survived the fall of the kingdom,’ he said, changing tact and digging into his food.
‘Many didn’t,’ Drue told him, grateful for a new subject. ‘Down here, the numbers can feel bigger than they are. Starve-edged despair brought survivors together in this stronghold, but there are those who still dwell in pockets all around Naarva.’
