Page 28 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
He left her to it, but glanced across as he saddled his stallion, watching as she fed the giant winged creature the raw hare, stroking the plumage of his puffed-out chest. One day he’d ask her for the story of how she’d ended up with a hawk hatchling…
As they set out for their second day, Talemir rode beside Wilder, telling himself that the beautiful ranger he’d woken up next to that morning needed her space. He was drawn to her, that much was obvious, but if he could tame the darkness within, he could certainly control himself around her.
But that didn’t stop him from picturing the delicate blush that had spread across her cheeks, or her lithe body tense and wanting, her curves arching towards an invisible touch. It was easy to let his mind drift to her as the steady rhythm of the ride took hold, but what he didn’t expect was the shadows stirring within, a beast beneath the surface, opening an eye. Power thrummed through him, threatening to burst from his fingertips in talons and ribbons of onyx magic, and the muscles between his shoulder blades burned as his wings threatened to spear through his skin.
Talemir fumbled for the flask he kept tucked safely against his side. Hands trembling, he brought the tonic to his lips and took a long draught of the horribly bitter stuff.
‘Bit early in the day, isn’t it, Tal?’ Wilder said, frowning as Talemir wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
Talemir forced himself to grin. ‘Never too early for a bit of Marise’s fire extract,’ he replied, saluting Wilder and naming the liquor he knew his protégé loathed.
Sure enough, Wilder grimaced. ‘Marise is known for his wine for a reason.’
‘Wine doesn’t travel as easy.’
‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way,’ Wilder retorted, but thankfully, he dropped the subject, leaving Talemir to take stock of his faculties.
Truth be told, he had no idea what the tonic was doing for hiscondition, as Drue had called it. Farissa, the Master Alchemist at Thezmarr, had warned him it was a dangerous experiment, that it might just as easily poison him as cure him.
‘I don’t care,’ he’d told her. ‘I can’t live like this.’
But live he had. He’d suffered through the uncontrollable change several times since that final battle of Naarva, on those horrific nights where the moon refused to show itself, all the while keeping his shadow-self a secret from the rest of the midrealms, from Wilder and Malik. Not even to Farissa had he spoken his greatest fear aloud… The fear that this was only the beginning, that the darkness might spread, that there might come a day where he was a fully fledged shadow wraith, incapable of returning to his original form. He’d been upping Farissa’s recommended dose ever since.
At first he hadn’t wanted to accept the mission to Naarva to discover what was happening with the steel and the increasing strength of the wraiths, but then… then he’d wondered if there were answers here for him, or perhaps… others like him. For surely he couldn’t be the only half-wraith? So he’d accepted under the guise of indulging Wilder’s quest for vengeance, hoping his own future might not look so bleak.
Instead, all he’d found were more questions.
Talemir glanced across to find Wilder deep in conversation with Adrienne. For that, at least, Talemir was grateful. His former apprentice could use some good in his life.
As they rode, Talemir also noticed how close Coltan stuck to Drue’s side, despite the obvious disdain she held for him. The stupid boy’s persistence set Talemir’s teeth on edge. However badly he wanted to knock the ranger off his horse, he knew it wasn’t his business, knew enough about Drue to understand that she wouldn’t appreciate that interference from him. He’d seen her fight her own battles already. Though it gave him a small thrill to see that the hawk, Terrence, had fixed his angry stare on Coltan now.
Talemir rode on in silence, thinking briefly of his own former lovers. There were many of them, but none with any meaning. They had all understood what it meant to lie with a Warsword: a night or two of passion, but duty would invariably come before all else. He never lingered for long, and that was always for the best.
Talemir watched Drue send the hawk ahead to alert the watchtower about their impending arrival, and he found himself drawn to her once more. He, Drue, Adrienne and Wilder took the lead, and as they travelled, he admired Naarva for the small ray of hope it offered. To the untrained eye, the fallen kingdom was a place of festering gloom, but there were pockets in which life still flourished. They passed a handful of hidden settlements, the inhabitants greeting them with quiet awe. They rode past a farm where, despite the emerald vines strangling much of the land, lilies bloomed in the cracks. Talemir had to believe that he might be afforded the same mercy, that there might yet be a part of him where light shone through the darkness.
Deep in his own thoughts, he reached into his saddlebag absentmindedly, pulling out his canteen of water and taking a long drink, grateful to be drinking anything other than that wretched tonic.
‘What’s that?’ Drue’s voice sounded beside him.
He followed her gaze to his open bag, where a book with a distinctly red cover peeked out from his belongings.
‘What’s it look like? It’s a book.’
But to his surprise, a smug smile tugged on Drue’s lips. ‘It’s not just a book… It’s a romance book. You read love stories?’
‘What did you expect? Military strategies and fire drakes?’
Drue was still smiling. ‘Something like that… Perhaps war stories and heroics.’
Talemir met her gaze, letting his own amusement show. ‘Alas,’ he said, nudging his horse a little closer to hers. ‘Don’t we read to escape our own realities?’
She didn’t miss a beat. ‘So no great loves in your reality, then, Warsword?’
Talemir’s eyes lingered on her, his blood heating. ‘Not yet, Wildfire… Not yet.’
Wilder cleared his throat nearby. ‘Tal’s read them for as long as I can remember,’ he interjected. ‘Back when I was an apprentice —’
‘You say it like it was so long ago,’ Talemir cut in, teasing.
