Page 23 of Wicked Prince of Shadows
I started to snap back in response to his calling me a dodo when I caught the last part of what he said. “You mean a test to prove whether I am who I say I am.”
“Exactly.” His smirk pulled higher, his gaze colder. “I’m sure even if you had a choice, you’d accept it.”
The fact that there was no choice but to accept it annoyed me, but I narrowed my eyes at him. “And what is this test?” His couching it in terms of punishment was more than a little unnerving.
“One which the average princess would certainly fail and which if you fail will result in you remaining. But if you are in fact just a common gardener with an unbearably defiant and foolish personality and the survival instincts of a dodo, I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty. And it will serve this kingdom well in the final week of the blood moon.”
I opened my mouth to respond when he snapped his fingers. Shadows lashed out around us both, and the world dissolved into freezing darkness. My stomach lurched violently as reality twisted and reformed around us. Then it released me, and Istumbled when my feet hit solid ground again, nearly falling to my knees. The cold rush of shadow magic left me shuddering, my skin prickling with goosebumps beneath the grey dress. But my eyes bugged and I gasped when I realized where we were and what he had in mind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Istaggered a step forward as the Hollow King strode toward the center, my eyes watering immediately. It smelled off here, something like burned earth, rotted meat, ammonia and acid. I cringed and covered my mouth and nose. Cold air licked at my skin as I took in the space around me.
What had this place been? A tiered courtyard with steps between levels that had been converted into a garden? Or had it always been intended to be a multi-leveled garden and simply fallen into disrepair? It was massive, built in wide, concentric tiers, each level ascending higher from the courtyard’s heart. No railings at any point.
Pale-grey cracked stones formed broad stepped staircases and broad landings, each level filled with broad planters or massive pots, some holding withered plants and others black-barked trees like the ones in the forest.
It was hard to know where to look, the entire setting dismal and easily blurring within my mind.
Nothing moved. Nothing sang. There were no birds. No buzzing or crawling insects. Not a worm or a trail of tiny brown ants. If anything had ever flourished in this place, it was long ago.
Black vines coiled within some of the planters, bone dry and shriveled. No leaves clung to any branches or stems though a few were scattered across the soil.
I grimaced. Whatever had grown here once had withered long ago, and now all that remained were thorny stalks and brittle skeletal stems that curled inward like broken fingers.
I took another step forward off the path. Thecrunchbeneath my boot made my skin crawl. Ash and silt. No moisture at all. “Has it always been this way?” I asked softly.
“It started dying as soon as our kingdom was dragged here thanks toGood Queen Tanith,” the Hollow King said, making no effort to hide his scorn. He folded his arms. The deep grey of his skin was stark against the lighter shades around us, and the deep black of his garments made him like a living shadow. His amber eyes burned, but it seemed for a moment as if grief nearly overwhelmed him. His eyes shuttered, and then he opened them again, his stern, resolute self present once more.
I couldn’t focus on that though. I just kept looking over the entirety of this garden.
No color anywhere—no green, no gold, no hint of anything that I typically associated with life. At most, maybe some lichens and moss grew on the dying black-barked trees and saplings. The stone paths that marked their way throughout were a slightly darker grey than the rest, practically a mockery of color and veined with tight cracks as if they had fallen apart repeatedly and been glued together each time.
“What exactly is this test you have in mind?” I asked, my nose wrinkling with distaste. “Did you only use bird guano for fertilizer?”
His eyebrow arched. “I apologize if the type of fertilizer we gather is not to your preferences,princess, but we must make do with what we have. Your test and punishment is this: Fix thisgarden before the end of the blood moon’s week, and I’ll let you go free.”
My eyes widened. “Fix…the garden? As in make it bloom? All of it?”
“Yes. Every planter must be brought to full bloom and harvest. Best get busy.” He gave me a flat smile.
Rage rose within me. The prissy shadowy kidnapping bastard! “Do you even know how gardens work?” I demanded, stalking toward him. “Do you think I can just wave my hands and demand the plants grow?”
“Like I said, if you are in fact a gardener?—”
“Wipe that smug smile off your face! This isn’t how gardens work. I can’t just defy time itself. Plant magic doesn’t work that way.” I jabbed my finger at his chest.
“It won’t be exactly like your pretty little flower beds back home, darling,” he said with that infuriating smirk. “But everyone has some magic in them that the Witheringlands draws from. If you’re a commoner, it will come through in its own way, painful though it may be.”
I walked over to one of the planters and stuck my finger in the dry dirt. Like most of the dirt in this place, it was all dead or mostly dead. I sighed heavily. “Look. I don’t mind work. I love gardening. But this isn’t a garden. It’s a tomb. What exactly am I supposed to do here that makes it so I can go home? Royals can have plant magic too. So I really don't know what you're looking for.”
“Just tend the garden. Make the plants grow and the flowers bloom. Then we’ll talk. I know what to look for. There’s water in the fountain.” He indicated a shockingly bare fountain that sat in the middle of the space. It was so plain I hadn’t even noticed it, the structure and markings making it appear more like a placeholder than an actual fountain.
I stepped closer to confirm there was actually water in it and noted that there was a well in the center with a bucket set inside, but it was at such an awkward angle, I’d likely bang my knees and elbows trying to draw it up. “Why did no one make this more accessible?”
“It once was, but things change,” he said in response. “Get to it. You won’t be allowed out of the garden until the end of day, and when daylight comes tomorrow, you will be escorted out and taken back to your room. Those are the terms of your punishment. You have until the wedding, little dodo. Don’t disappoint me further.”
I turned back to the garden, biting back every insult clawing at my tongue.
