Page 30 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
She pictured the boy’s face and her soul nearly fractured. What was the last thing she’d said to him? He’d been underfoot back at the stronghold and she’d been frustrated, delivering some hypocritical lecture on cursing and proper etiquette for young boys.
To which he’d replied, completely unfazed, ‘Let’s not talk about that anymore. Let’s talk about mountain drakes and teerah panthers.’
Now, the thought of him trapped and terrified, darkness lashing his body, was too much to bear. It was her brothers all over again. Her mother, too. People she loved carved apart by the talons of the shadow wraiths. The tightness in her chest refused to loosen. If anything, it only clamped down harder around her heart.
Drue pressed her forehead against the cold stone, inhaling deeply through her nose, steeling herself against the onslaught of grief and panic that threatened to see her ride out senselessly into the violent storm that ravaged her homeland below.
But she had been trained better than that.Adriennehad trained her better than that.
Do not succumb to fear, her friend used to say during their earlier scouting missions.Stop, think, assess.
And so Drue pushed aside the terror for her young charge, and took comfort in the weight of the new blade at her back, one that could cleave through monsters. At least she had that. She cursed the raging tempest outside, knowing that it would wash away any sign of Gus, any trail she might follow. That was her first thought. The second was of the half-wraith in their midst. With no tracks to hunt down, Talemir Starling was her only chance of finding Gus and the lair.
‘I shouldn’t have sent him here.’ Adrienne’s voice broke through the chaos whirring in Drue’s mind, hauling her back to the present.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Drue told her, though she understood the agony on her friend’s face. ‘We couldn’t have kept him tucked away in the stronghold forever.’
‘Perhaps not forever, but a little longer,’ Adrienne countered, following Drue’s gaze to the plains outside, where the howling winds tore through the meagre remaining life of Naarva.
‘At least Dratos is with him. He’ll keep him safe until we find them.’
Reluctantly, Adrienne nodded. ‘As unpredictable as he is, he loves that kid.’
‘They’re family. He won’t let anything happen to Gus. The last of the Castemonts will stick together,’ Drue said, whether for her benefit or Adrienne’s, she didn’t know.
‘We all stick together,’ her friend replied, eyeing the sword at her back. ‘I take it that’s no ordinary gift from your father?’
‘My father doesn’t make ordinary blades.’
Adrienne nodded. ‘Good. We’re going to need it.’
‘You’re not bothered that I’m going a step further with breaking the midrealms’ laws?’
Scoffing, Adrienne shook her head. ‘We’re survivors, Drue. Have been for a long time. Did they just expect us women to sit back and do nothing? To leave our defence in the hands of others? Whether it’s regular or Naarvian, when it comes to life and death, steel is steel and we’ll use it as needed. Some stupid law created by a stupid man in a distant territory makes no difference in a fallen kingdom. There are no rules here.’
The truth of her words etched into Drue’s heart. She was right. Laws and prophecies from over fourteen years ago had no place in Naarva. The fact that the Warswords themselves had only briefly mentioned their weaponry confirmed as much. ‘So, what’s the strategy?’ she asked.
Adrienne rubbed her eyes, as though she were hoping to wake from a nightmare. ‘Wait out the storm. Find Gus.’
‘A solid plan of attack.’
‘Great, because it’s the only one I’ve got.’
For a time, the two women watched the lightning and thunder in silence, before Adrienne turned to Drue. ‘I’d best rejoin the others. It’s not good for morale when the general disappears.’
Drue nodded, but instead of returning to the group, she unsheathed her sword. She scoured the tower for clues, finding discarded weapons, smears of blood and those damn scorch and talon marks all over. The acrid scent of burnt hair hung in the air, the telltale smell of those monsters —
Her mother had decoratedthe formal dining room for the special occasion. The best plates and cutlery had been arranged perfectly, the finest linens and seat covers too. Flowers from all over the midrealms adorned the surfaces, in vases and draped from the sills and curtain rods – a spectacle of colour and grandeur amid elegant candlelight.
‘Galina,’ Fendran’s warm voice sounded from the door. ‘You shouldn’t have made such a fuss.’
‘Nonsense. It’s not every day you turn fifty,’ her mother said, surveying the space with satisfaction. ‘My husband deserves a fuss.’
‘Then I gladly accept,’ Fendran replied, beaming.
Soon, the regular chaos of family ensued and everyone was taking their seats – Drue’s parents, side by side as usual, and her four brothers: Leif, Martan, Penn and Will, who were already fighting over which cuts of meat were best.
Smiling, Drue took her place facing the giant arched window that looked out onto the darkening grounds.
