Page 63 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
I was happier when they thought of me like that. My desire to be in the same room as any of them is non-existent.
“Come, child of my blood. Won’t you dine with us?” the Dawn King says, motioning to the empty chair. Beryl behind me makes a bored sound and shoves me forward. I stumble, unwilling to walk into the trap the Dawn King is setting for me. It’s hard to breathe and my chest is on fire. As if something is trying to tear its way out.
I stumble into the end of the table, gripping at my chest— my throat— and know this is no usual panic. I know this feeling. Remember it. I grab for the edge of the table to hold myself upright, pulling at the tablecloth. This time, I can barely feel the pain in my hand as I clench the fabric tightly.
The curse is stirring, furious and angry, and my body is no longer my own. Finally, I give it over to the curse. I cannot hold it back. Something else looks through me, looks at the Dawn King, who is suddenly sharp and attentive.
The words fall from my tongue in a strange voice. Each word burns through me as it is spoken. I can no longer see my sister, or the room, just the King’s pale blue eyes.
“Shadows cling to gilded lies.
Five stars fall from shadowed grace.
Through death’s dark gate, a path unwinds.
To rend the veil of blood and bone.
A crown of dust, an empty throne.”
And then I am suddenly and entirely empty. My ears ring, and I feel hollowed out. No one moves as I cling to the table, breathing heavily. I look down and thin, bright red blood drips from mynose, staining the soft blue fabric of the tablecloth. I taste it on my tongue. It’s the only warning I get before my body heaves and blood pours from my mouth and nose, bleeding across the end of the table. Asther, the nearest to me, leans away. The weight in my chest is gone. It had once felt like unyielding dread, and then had come to feel like comfort— and now, I was startlingly, terrifyingly, alone.
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. It comes away bloody.
The Dawn King stands from his place at the head of the table and the silence of the room is heavy as a shroud. It is broken by the sound of his clapping. Despite his slow, mocking applause, dark anger burns in his eyes. His courtiers are unsettled, shifting in their seats and trying not to look at me or him.
Orielle sits down, hard. She looks as bloodless as I feel. She stares at nothing as if for once in her life, she’d prefer the quiet of the scriptorium.
“Oh, well done,” the Dawn King says. “These are the tidings you bring to my court? Then come, my child. Sit at my table.” He motions me forward once again.
Beryl comes up behind me and grabs my arm. “You heard the King,” she hisses, shoving me down into the chair. I go without a fight. My throat is dry and raw. I wet my lips and taste blood still.
The King sits, turning his attention back to Cadence and drawing her into conversation, as if nothing had happened. Orielle is staring at me, one ghost to another. The other courtiers begin to laugh and chatter again. It is as if I had merely performed a parlour trick. Something to be remarked upon in the same way as an acrobat or a musician. It doesn’t feel quite real, sitting here, but it never has.
My blood seeps down the tablecloth until it drips to the floor. It pools on the plate in front of me, like some kind of macabre garnish. I might as well be dining at the sacrificial altar itself.I clench my hands in my skirts, ignoring the pain in my finger. A spot of blood falls into my lap, slowly followed by another. Perhaps at least my bleeding nose is slowing. I’m light headed, nothing but a phantom sitting at the end of the table. I feel eyes on me and I meet the Dawn King’s cold and ruthless gaze. Whatever he has understood from the words I had spoken, he is afraid. He believes them to be true.
I blink and the look is gone, replaced by the same pleasant and unreadable mask that I have always known. He returns to his meal, laughing at something the courtier to his left has said and I don’t know what to make of it. This place has always confused me.
I look down at my hands. The shadows that cling to the gathers of my skirt shift and move, and my breath catches. Another drop of blood drips from my chin into my lap. A moment later, the guards in the hallway scream.
And relief and agony sweeps through me all at once, because she has come for me.
Chapter 38
Lorel
I twist in my chair,turning to see. It isn’t horror I feel as the shadows stretch, reaching out to wrap around the guards stationed by the door. They don’t have a chance to take a step back. Don’t have a moment to know that the danger is upon them. Darkness bleeds across the doors like a misplaced ink blot and the guards shout, trying to twist out of the silky shadows that hold them fast. And then they can’t scream because the shadow is in their throats, dragging them, shuddering and flailing, into the growing darkness.
For a moment, all is silent. Then next to me, Asther screams. In an instant, the most powerful mages in the Suntide Court are scrambling, making an awful noise as they try to escape through the back of the chamber. A loyal few stay, Cadence and Edrian among them. At the head of the table, Orielle is staring at me. Nothing that has happened yet has helped her to regain the colour in her face.
“Lorel!”
She pushes out of her chair. The Dawn King moves, as quick as light, to grab her arm, holding her fast. His expression is smug, eager even.
“I will deal with this,” he says to her. “Sit, child. And do not move.” He rises, releasing Orielle, and stalks towards me. I stumble up from my chair. I need to run. If I can get to Sila, then we can leave— I hit a solid body standing behind me. Beryl.
“Hold her,” he calls to the Lightwarden. “You two, stop the wraith.” Cadence and another courtier follow the King as Beryl grabs me, dragging me back against her.
“What did I say about being good?” says Beryl, grabbing my hand and putting pressure on my broken finger. She tries to get purchase to break another finger.
