Page 103 of The Lost Prince
I couldn’t trust it.
And yet …
“Z, please.”
Her torch lay on the ground, its flame throwing the shadows on our faces into sharp relief. Shava reached for me, ignoring the blood and sweat as her arms wrapped around me and pushed my head into her breasts.
Yes.Yes.
I relaxed against her and closed my eyes, muscles loosening. Was this how most Noble boys felt with their mothers? Was the queen like this with her sons? Was being happy and content as easy as simply allowing it? No, that couldn’t be it. That was too easy.
“Z, all of this magick is changing you. Can we agree on that?”
I pulled back, happy for a question that had a logical answer.
“Of course it is,” I answered. “That is the point.”
She ran her hands through her long, dark hair, agitated. “It’s changing you in other ways. You never had much patience to begin with, but lately your temper is explosive. Sometimes the look in your eyes … it scares me. This magick is changing you. Will you stop, please?”
I wanted to scold her for such a childish plea, but the argument was mute on my tongue. Shava wasn’t doing it because she wanted something or thought she could gain something if I gave up bloodmagick.
No. She was arguing because she believed it; because she cared.
That word again.
I didn’t understand it, and what I didn’t understand frustrated me.
“Z. Zariah is waiting outside. Are you coming?” Her hand reached out to mine. It was nice having her around, and I was loathe to do anything to change that. She was always soft and willing in bed, and was one of the few people I’d met I could actually tolerate.
I grasped her hand in mine.
“Perhaps I could … slow down on the rituals,” I conceded. After all, perhaps it was unwise to go at such a rapid pace without giving my body a chance to recover, as well as study the lasting effects.
Yes, this was my choice. It was in my best interests to slow my pace and research the risks. Life was all about compromises, wasn’t it?
“Very well. Let’s go,” I finished.
Shava beamed at me. “These tunnels are quite wide. Wide enough for a bunch of people, don’t you think?”
Perhaps she was on to something.
ChapterTwenty-Four
TWO YEARS LATER
Igazed at the surrounding tunnels, barely believing the transformation they’d gone through. Wide as they were, it only took some sweeping and mounting more torch brackets to the wall before they were ready to go. As the months went by, Shava and the others quietly forgot about Nisar, and didn’t ask where he’d disappeared to. In return, I let a surge of refugees flood my—our—catacombs. Rough tents and canvases hung in rows on either side, forming the saddest little camp I’d ever seen. The Noble men and the few women who showed signs of the curse stayed on the outskirts, with the women and children inward.
I knew precisely what to do with the Nobles who hadn’t changed yet.
Overall, the influx of humanity was irritating and made the space catastrophic and cloying, though Shava argued it was cozy. As much as it annoyed me to be surrounded by people, it differed from my time at the palace.
These people knew me and treated me with respect and deference. They revered me. When I was supreme ruler of the world, I would train everyone to act thusly whenever I entered a room, and—
A sharp tugging on my robe interrupted my inner monologue. Frowning, I turned and glared down at the little girl looking up at me, a wide smile on her face. Her blonde hair and dark eyes marked her as a Noble child with a mud girl mother. In her outstretched hand was a squished, half-dead flower.
“Momma says you made us a safe space. Thank you.”
My inner lip curled a bit at the pathetic offering. “I—”
