Page 124 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
Black wings were tucked in at the man’s back, but he wore a wolfish grin as he kissed her knuckles. ‘Thank you for what you did in the lair, for fighting for us.’ His words were ones of unexpected reverence. ‘We owe you a great debt.’
Warmth flooded Drue’s side as Talemir approached.
Dratos looked up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the Warsword. ‘You…’ he said, his voice a growl. ‘You’re the one they call the Prince of Hearts… You would have killed my little cousin. You would have killed us all.’
Talemir didn’t blanch, but he bowed his head in regret. ‘I would have, and for that, I’m sorry.’
The winged ranger raised a brow and took a swig of something from a flask. ‘Maybe next time, do a more thorough check…?’
‘I thought you were lost to the darkness.’
‘A fugue state, Warsword. Couldn’t do shit for a while there. Didn’t you experience the same when you —’
Talemir stiffened beside Drue. ‘I… I’m sorry.’
Dratos seemed to consider whether he wanted to continue berating the man who had just helped defeat the shadow wraiths.
In the end, he gave Talemir a mock salute before draining the rest of his flask and surveying him critically. ‘You know… I do believe my wings are bigger than yours…’
Talemir barked a laugh. ‘Un-fucking-likely.’
But Drue was already pulling him away.
With their forces reunited,the celebrations started and went on well into the night. After managing a quick wash in the nearby stream, Drue toasted to the Furies with her people. She sang and danced with them around the campfires and ate her fill from the deer Wilder had killed for them in the forest. But as the hours passed, she knew she couldn’t deny herself any longer. Throughout the festivities, something else called to her, a playful darkness, a ribbon of power tethering her to the Warsword who stood patiently on the outskirts of the camp.
Talemir was waiting.
Drue slid her hand into his and pulled him after her, to the garden she’d discovered earlier by one of the cottages.
‘I want to show you something.’ Her heart was already swelling.
She led him down an overgrown path, into the fenced yard, the Warsword wordless at her side.
Before a rose bush, she stopped and pointed to a flower that bloomed there amid the thorns.
A rose as black as night.
‘My mother always preferred blue jasmine and the sun orchids,’ she said quietly.
Talemir stared.
‘But these were always my favourite. They’re called midnight roses. They have the darkest petals in all of the midrealms.’
‘Is that so…?’ Talemir breathed.
Drue pressed her body to his, at last asking the question that had plagued her. ‘Will you return to Thezmarr now that this battle is won?’ The fear lingered in her chest, for she knew he was a man of honour, a man of duty, a Warsword of the guild through and through, no matter the wings or the dark magic in his veins.
But Talemir shook his head. ‘No,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘My place is by your side. Now and always.’
Tears pricked Drue’s eyes, and she kissed him deeply. ‘Then love me,’ she commanded him. ‘Love me in your shadow form.’
Talemir blinked at her, as though just realising what she was asking of him. ‘You’re sure? I can make the wings disapp—’
‘No.’ Drue had never been more sure of anything. She let her hands span the breadth of his chest, his skin warm beneath her touch. ‘I want to know and love every side of you, the light and the dark.’
Talemir’s chest rose as he took a breath. ‘Then you’d best hold on, Wildfire.’
He swept her up into his arms and kicked the door of the cottage in.
