Page 9 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
The look on the Warsword’s face was priceless. Smiling darkly, Drue pushed off the bench and stalked towards him, hand on the hilt of her cutlass.
The warrior blinked at her. ‘You’re a forge maiden of Naarva?’
Coltan responded before she could get a word in. ‘There’s nomaidenhere,’ he smirked.
The forge went deadly still for a moment and Terrence let out a warning cry from her shoulder.
Drue shot Coltan a searing look, her grip tightening on her weapon. He took liberties; he insulted her in front of her own father and Warswords of the midrealms… She’d noted his fidgeting as well, a telltale sign thathe’dbeen the one to write to the guild at Thezmarr, reporting her supposed wrongdoings. All to curb her behaviour, to control her. He had the good sense to flinch under her and Terrence’s glares. She’d deal with him later. Perhaps she’d let Terrence pluck out his eyes.
Now, she turned her focus to the larger of the Warswords. ‘I’m a ranger,’ she told him. ‘And I have no idea what meddling you’re talking about.’ She hadn’t been to the steel source in months. But Talemir Starling kept staring at her cuff, as though the steel around her wrist only confirmed the lies they’d been fed.
However, they both knew that to mention it would draw attention to what he truly was. And though she hadn’t seen his claws yet, she had no doubt of the monster that lurked beneath his skin.
I have to kill him,she vowed to herself. But to kill a Warsword in plain sight of another would incite a war.I have to get him away from everyone.
She gave him a grin that, in her days as a noblewoman, had infuriated many people. ‘You’ve come a long way for nothing, Warsword. As I said, I’m just a ranger.’
The bastard had the audacity to offer her a lazy smile. ‘Oh, I doubt that, Wildfire. I doubt that very much.’
Fury crackled in her veins, heat blooming at her cheeks. ‘You know my name now. Use it.’
Another grin answered her. ‘I think Wildfire suits you better.’
Gods, she was going to kill him; she was going to carve out his gods-damned heart.
The Warsword she’d heard him call his apprentice cleared his throat and turned pointedly to her father. ‘Perhaps you’d be so kind as to show us to a place we can camp?’
Her father waved him off. ‘Nonsense. You’ve travelled far. Let us offer you our hospitality. So long as you mean my “son” no ill will, it would be an honour to host you.’
Drue rolled her eyes. It was just like Fendran to offer people who threatened her a free meal. Her noble-blooded mother had trained him well. The thought of sharing her table with a monster made Drue’s blood sing in a rage, but perhaps…
Perhaps let him eat and drink his fill. It might just loosen his tongue, or at least that of his young protégé…She would find out all she could about this half-wraith, half-Warsword… Then, she would strike. She certainly hadn’t failed to notice how he’d stiffened at her criticism of the way his guild had handled the fall of Naarva… It was clearly a pain point that she could use against him. So she swallowed her pride and her rage, and followed her father, Coltan and the Warswords to the very back of the forge.
There, they pushed aside a heavy shelf, revealing an arched entrance through the stone wall, and a staircase that descended below. With a rueful glance towards the windows, Drue swiped a torch from the sconce and started down the steps.
While the official fall of Naarva had only been declared six months ago, the kingdom had been under siege for a long time before that. Enough time to allow for its survivors and its most adaptable to turn to the underground vaults of the capital, Ciraun, and create a makeshift subterranean city. No one outside of Naarva knew of it, save for the Warswords who now fell into step beside her.
‘You and I still need to talk,’ Talemir said in her ear.
‘If you say so,’ she ground out, trying to storm ahead.
But the elite warrior towering at her side kept up with her pace. With the others in earshot, he didn’t press the matter. He clearly didn’t want to talk about the magic pulsing from her cuff. Even now it sang in his presence, recognising the shadow power in his veins, recoiling from it.
Drue had known she’d made leaps with her experiment over the last few months, but the Warsword–wraith proved just how powerful her findings were against his kind. Working on weaponry targeting wraiths had been the passion of her closest brother, Leif. She’d taken up his work after his death, wishing sorely that he was there to see the progress.
Grateful for the silence, she led their small party down the spiralling stairs and through the deep stone passageways, the air becoming cooler as they moved away from the heat of the forge. Terrence remained on her shoulder, his grip tight but not painful, his attention on those around her as sharp as ever.
Talemir Starling…Upon her father’s words, she’d finally recognised the name from the list of heroes associated with the most harrowing battles during the kingdom’s fall… But how many of the warrior’s comrades knew his secret? How many knew that a monster had infiltrated their ranks?
Drue wove them in a few unnecessary loops, her father and Coltan saying nothing as she did so. While her father was determined to host the champions of Thezmarr, she wasn’t about to give them a direct map to the heart of her survivors’ city.
At last, she reached the end of the passage, pushing open a heavy wooden door with her shoulder. The space beyond opened up into a great subterranean hall – the mess hall, they’d dubbed it. Despite the dim setting, it teemed with light, the huge cavern aglow with dozens of torches and buzzing with as many voices.
‘Drue!’ a familiar voice shouted.
As her friend Adrienne charged towards her, Terrence took flight, forcing her backward as he launched, soaring for his usual perch above the great oak table. Her back collided with a wall of muscle; gentle hands gripped her shoulders to steady her.
‘Easy, there.’ Laughter laced Talemir’s voice, his tone skittering along her bones and toying with something deep inside her.
