Page 82 of Wicked Prince of Shadows
Vetle’s hand splayed low on my back, steadying me. His stitched jaw clenched as his wings trembled, their skeletal edges glinting faintly in the blood-moon light. Shadows bled from him in ragged wisps, twitching as though even they were exhausted. Blood streamed from us both.
The ground beneath us juddered with a low, rolling boom—like a drumbeat deep in the earth. Dust sprayed around us, turning the air into a haze.
The vines around my waist loosened suddenly, slithering away from us both and spreading out. I gasped, my lungs expanding fully for the first time in what felt like hours. The draining sensation ceased, leaving me hollow and trembling but free. The vines dug down into the chasm walls and solid ground on both sides.
Then the world shattered.
Above, a massive form lunged down, almost too big to comprehend—Chaori, his outline jagged with lightning and the light of the blood moon, his great arms reaching.
A blinding flash of grey, black, silver, and white erupted from the chasm below, arching up toward the sky as a massive shape surged upward, breaking through the final bonds and reaching toward the heavens.
The air itself vibrated as the earth shook.
Aerithyn and Chaori locked around one another, their translucent forms colliding in a fierce embrace. He pulled her close, her face burying into his shoulder, his hand curling protectively around the back of her head as hers wrappedaround his neck. Both looked into one another’s faces, their visages terrible and beautiful at once, hard to look upon and yet impossible to turn from.
Then they looked down at us and swept their hands over the cracked earth, and light engulfed us all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Iblinked in shock, gasping in great gulps of air. Warm lamplight surrounded us, the air rich with the smell of roasted meat, spiced chocolate, fresh fruit, and roasted potatoes and contrasting sharply with the scent of blood, stone, dust, and ichor. The eidons had sent us back to the Waking Lands.
Vetle held me close as we stood once more in the Peace Garden, surrounded by the survivors as well as Enola and her guards. The blood moon hung high in the sky above the palace garden.
“Fahlda! Mahlda!” A slight but strong form slammed into me at the waist, knocking me back against Vetle. Osric hugged us both tight.
Numb with shock, I dropped to my bloodied knees and wrapped my good arm around him, pulling him close even as pain shot through every part of my body. My mangled hand throbbed with a life of its own, and the wounds and scrapes over my body burned, but none of that mattered. Osric was safe. Vetle was alive. We were back in the Waking Lands. None of us could speak.
Vetle lifted us both, crushing us tight in his arms as his wings wrapped around us. A throaty growl rumbled in his chest, and I felt as if I could slip into this moment forever. No words could express how wonderful it was to be here. I could barely believe it. We’d made it.
Excited murmurs and gasps of shock rippled throughout. It was almost too much to bear. All the beautiful colors and the wonderful scents. Some of the survivors openly sobbed. Others laughed. Rasoul’s voice rose above the others, calling for the wounded to be moved to the center of the garden.
Vetle lowered me slowly, his wings drawing back. “You need treatment,” he said.
"It doesn’t matter. We're here," I whispered, my voice cracking. "We made it."
“All right,” Enola’s voice called out. “I need answers. The child said there was a good explanation. Sabine?!”
I drew back from Vetle reluctantly as I turned to face my friend. Ash stained her face as she crossed toward me. Her lips trembled, tears welling up in her eyes. “What happened?” she asked. “That child said the monsters were attacking.”
I opened my arms to her, and we embraced. She clutched me tight, sobbing against me. “I thought you were stolen. Then I was afraid you were dead. I thought—I thoughthetook you.”
“He did, but it’s a long story. Thank you for coming for me. I don’t think we would have made it without you.” I winced as she squeezed me a little too tight. “But first…” I drew back and then gestured toward Vetle.
He looked just as terrifying now as he had the first time he appeared, albeit more battered and bloodied. Blood oozed from the stitches on his cheeks and hands, smearing down his forearms and throat.
Despite exhaustion, he lifted his chin, his amber eyes burning colder. “So you are the actual descendant of Tanith?”
Enola’s brow tweaked as she looked him up and down. “Yes.”
“This is Princess Enola, my friend. And this is King Vetle, my husband.” I gestured from one to the other, finding it hard not to smile.
They both sized one another up.
Enola shot Vetle a scathing glare, then gave me a confused look and jerked her thumb at him. “Really?” She then looked at him. “You may be the most terrifying man I’ve ever seen in my life, but don’t think for one moment that doesn’t mean I won’t rip you to pieces if you don’t treat her right.”
His eyebrow arched. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. I give you my word, I will do all within my power and strength to ensure she receives every joy and luxury this world has to offer.”
“Good. Now…while you all clearly need healing, bathing, food, and drink, we’ll get that all settled and then I want to hear everything,” Enola started.
