Page 4 of Wicked Prince of Shadows
“Help!” I screamed. The thin fabric shredded beneath his claws, and I tightened the tension. “Someone help me!” I released my end of the veil.
His eyes bugged as the veil snapped back, and he stumbled. His wings flared out to catch him, but I sprang off the wall onto one of the magnolia trees. My bare feet struck a branch as my hands clawed for purchase on the coarse bark. The impact jarred through my knees in a dull ache. Fear and the need to escape overturned my fear of heights.
Shimmying around to the other side of the tree as he swore at me, I made my way down. Maybe I could break through the wall that housed the cistern and crawl out through the aqueduct.
“You little wretch!”
Suddenly he was under the tree. He grabbed me by the ankle before I could react, the cold flesh of his hand chilling me to the bone.
“Let go of me!” I yelped as he yanked me down. My fingernails dug deeper into the bark, and I screamed even louder, kicking with my free leg. Smoke and shadows swirled up around me, some of it coiling tighter around my legs.
"Well done. You've exhausted my patience," he growled, ripping me out of the tree and into his arms. “This didn’t have to be such a horror, but you are your grandmother’s heir, so why am I even surprised?”
Another scream locked in my throat as I found myself staring into his molten copper eyes. The scent of smoke, rot, cloves, and cedar engulfed me, choking me. “I—I’m not?—”
“No more lies, no more games,” he growled, his breath tickling my cheek. "I'm taking what I'm owed."
He snapped his fingers, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the garden. It cut through my soul and stung me to the quick. The ground beneath the fountain trembled, then cracked open with a sound like breaking bones. With a heavy crack, the statue of Tanith tilted, and the fountain collapsed inward, revealing a yawning darkness that seemed to have nobottom. The very air around us grew heavy, as if the world itself was being drawn toward that terrible void.
"Wait—" I gasped, but my protest died as he stepped forward into nothingness.
The whole world fell away, swallowed in darkness. My fingers curled tight into the Hollow King’s silk robe as I cringed forward, screaming into the void. The cold air ripped past my ears, but his arms remained locked around me.
No!
Shadows wrapped around us like a cocoon, muffling my screams as we fell through what felt like a whirlwind of ice water and thick smoke at once. My lungs burned for air. I couldn't tell which way was up or down as we plummeted through this nightmare. His grip tightened when I tried to twist away, his claws digging into my flesh through the borrowed silk, hard enough to bruise but not to cut.
Then I passed out.
CHAPTER TWO
Iwoke with a lurch, still feeling as if I was falling as my fingers clenched into something soft. My heart thundered in my chest, and cold dampened my gown. Only the veils had been removed, and my feet were cold. I swallowed hard, my throat still raw. Drawing in a ragged breath, I tried to orient myself.
I lay on a large bed in a dark but elegant bedroom. The dark silk coverlet had been mussed as I startled away, but otherwise, it was made neatly with large pillows behind me. With the lack of wrinkling on the other side, I knew no one had been with me. The walls were dark-grey stone, the floor polished black boards with a grey fur rug on either side of the bed. A tall wardrobe stood to my left, a small sitting area further back in a nook near a black-curtained window.
This place was unlike any I had seen. It was as if we had stepped into a shadow world where everything but the absence of color had been drained, leaving only stark contrasts in its wake. Yet everything was finely made—ornate carved legs on the furniture, delicate patterns etched into the broad ceiling beams above, and sculpted silver candelabras that had not been lit. An oil lamp sat on the table beside the bed, unlit.
Pale grey light seeped in from beneath the curtains and at the seam, weak and dull like the light just before a heavy storm in the morning. The tang in the air reminded me more of a mausoleum than a bedroom, the ashy taste clinging to my tongue.
This had to be the Hollow Kingdom. The world felt raw and sharp, the air unpleasant. My skin prickled. I had to get out of here and fast.
I slid off the bed, my bare feet sinking into the coarse fur rug. More shivers shot up my spine though, the air unnaturally cold and seeping through my skin into my very bones. The thin silk gown had been perfect for the pleasant heat and humidity of our early summer festival, but here…here it was cold as a tomb. I wrapped my arms around myself, taking a few unsteady steps toward the window. I shivered once more and pushed the curtains open to peer outside. My stomach sank.
Beyond the window lay a palace with rough grey walls and beyond that a twisted landscape of barren trees and jagged rocks, all cast in shades of grey and black. The sky was the color of watery smeared ink and heavy with low-hanging clouds, the weak sun barely visible. Most everything was grey or black or silver with the occasional spark of bright amber or dark crimson. The dreariness expanded.
Wait—
My fingers curled tight against my palms.
I leaned farther out over the railing as I recognized this place from the descriptions in tales and remembered what had happened. I was in the Witheringlands. The Hollow King had stolen me!
Of course he’d brought me through to this wretched place.
I had to find my way back. The portal might still be open. Maybe I could get back through.
I stumbled back from the window, my heart hammering. A foul taste filled my mouth, my throat tightening. I had to find a way out before he came for me. I wasnotgoing to be his bride.
Rushing to the door, I pressed my ear against it but heard nothing beyond. I tested the handle.
