Page 8 of Wicked Prince of Shadows
I might not always be the fastest, but I always figured out a way to make things work. Pushing through was my strength, and that would serve me well here. It had to. As long as I didn’t keep throwing up. I desperately wished my magic had some sort of healing for me instead of just being good for plants and soil.
“Come on, princess.” Broken Nose grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me forward as the other took hold of my other arm. “No more delays.”
My knees shook as I staggered forward between them, my cheeks still burning. Bastard king. He thought he could terrify me?
Well—maybe he could.
Especially if he was going to be throwing me around and putting me in high places.
But that didn’t mean he’d beat me. Not completely. I still had my will and my voice and my feet. I’d find a way out.
The two guards dragged me forward down a broad open-air hallway and then into a smaller closed one, to a landing, up a flight of stairs, and down two more hallways.
We passed several guards and servants, some staring while others whispered behind their hands. All wore shades of grey, charcoal, and black, and all had stitches on some part of their bodies, often the hands, throat, or face. Their gazes slid over me as if evaluating me for a sacrifice or considering my weaknesses.
I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders as heat prickled down my spine. With each step, I noted where we were and possible avenues for escape. When the chance came, I'd take it.
We at last entered into a broad oblong chamber. My heart raced faster as I looked around. A shallow well in the room held a pool with long dark shapes swimming in it. Eels or serpents most likely.
There the Hollow King stood with his hands clasped behind his back in front of a balcony, overlooking the courtyard as if he hadn’t just thrown me and been horribly dramatic with his flying and flouncing and walk away. The cool air blew in, carrying a dark, musty scent like rotted moss, old lavender, and heavy woodsmoke with hints of his clove and myrrh cologne. The spiked crown made his profile all the more terrifying, turning even his shadows sharp.
Without looking back at me, he spoke. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson. You cannot escape. Even if you got beyond the palace and the city walls, you would never survive the Witheringlands alone. You don’t know the dangers. And believe me, there are a thousand vile and horrific ways to die out here.”
“Maybe I’d rather die than be your bride.” I hated how my voice shook at the end, but it wasn’t a lie. Staying in this place wasn't an option. I shook my arms free from the guards and folded them over my breasts. The airy blue gown was far too thin for the coolness of this place.
He laughed darkly. “I’m more than happy to grant your request after the wedding. Until then, you'll remain alive. Whether you remain unharmed is up to you, princess. But please understand, I have no tolerance for fools, even if they are royals.”
I balled my hands into fists. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not the princess? Why won’t you believe me?”
He had taken me so that he could have his revenge. My very being was terrified by this, but I kept my spine straight. A desperate thought flared in my mind that I could offer him a substitute, but that substitute was my dearest friend. I couldn’t do that to Enola.
No.
I’d find another way.
“Whatever you think you’re doing, I can’t help you, and you have no right to just go and kidnap people. I never even met Queen Tanith, and I’m not related to her. If there is some other way?—”
He held up his hand to cut me off. “I'm uninterested in your stories. Princess or imposter, it makes little difference to me. For your sake, I hope you are the princess, but you’ll work for my purposes regardless.”
“But—”
He tilted his head, looking at me sidelong. The deep amber of his eyes glowed with orange fire. “I have no interest in your life or wishes, woman. Your grandmother or whatever she was in your ancestral line condemned you when she chose to trick me and sentenced my people to this remnant of a life between the cracks of the world. You have lived off our blood and our life, thriving on the fat of the land while we have starved. Our time in the shadows draws to a close.”
His rage chilled me through. I held my hands up in response, palms facing him. “I—I swear to you. This is all a huge mistake. My people have done nothing to you, and I’m not the princess. You have the wrong person.”
He folded his arms over his sleek embroidered black robe. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared me down as if daring me to try something. “If that’s true, that’s quite unfortunate for you. If you aren’t of royal blood, then you’ll die. Horrifically. Soul and all.”
My heart clenched, and my spine locked. Terror coursed through me. The words dried on my tongue.
Die?
My soul too?
I was doomed then. He didn’t seem inclined to believe me. My mind spun. How did I prove a negative?
He turned his gaze back out over the terrifying vista, his focus seemingly on the chasm and the center island of stone. “Tanith stole the life and vitality of all here to provide for you. To end this curse, life or love must be given. That is the way of it. If you're the princess, then, when our bond is sealed, you'll be able to endure the claiming of the chasm. If you aren’t, then other terms of the curse must be satisfied, namely a sacrifice. Your very life force, body, soul, and blood will be the alternative, and the darkness will devour your life as an innocent. Your soul will be obliterated and scattered into the darkness until the end of time or perhaps beyond.”
“How can you sacrifice an innocent like that?” My voice trembled. I’d heard of obliterated souls.
