Page 2 of Claimed By Shadow and Blood
I pressed both hands firmly against his chest as I leaned in.
His lips parted, but his throat worked uselessly. Another breath rattled from him, shallow and ragged.
“No,” I whispered. My arms trembled, but I didn’t move. I could still make out the faint pulses of his heart. Tears spilled down my cheeks. "Hold on."
The footsteps were louder now. Voices echoed behind me, but I couldn’t make out the words. I didn’t dare look away. Blood was smeared over the front of my gown, thick and clinging. My knees burned where they’d hit the stone, and my hands ached from how hard I was pressing.
He was still breathing. Barely. Just barely. "Help! He needs help," I sobbed.
Guards flanked me and seized me by the arms. Their black armor chilled my skin as they hauled me back, ripping my hands from the king's chest.
No. Now there was no pressure on his wound. I thrashed against them and got free, then dropped back beside him and put my hands back on his chest.
Once again, strong hands gripped my arms, the fingers digging hard into my skin. The guards ripped me backward away from the king once more.
“Save him! Someone stabbed him. His heart is barely beating. Save him, please!” I jerked, trying to break free once more.
The heartbeat became no more than a soft, fading thrum, yet each beat cut deep. He'd have had a better chance of living if I hadn't pulled the dagger out. Accident or not, it didn't matter.
Vomit burned my throat. "He needs a physiciannow!" My voice broke.
Heavy footsteps thundered closer, then halted. I looked up and saw...Vad. Dark hair streaming wildly over his shoulders, he stared down at his father. That inexplicable tug in my chest intensified, but I fought it. My pulse quickened as terror sickened me. What would he do to me? Whoever had framed me had given me no hope of an alibi.
His head snapped up, and his rage-filled storm-gray eyes locked with mine. A knot formed in my throat as the world slowed around us. His sculpted jaw clenched, and a muscle jumped. “Stop!” He stepped forward, then fell to his knees. His voice was hoarse. “Stop, let her go. Briar! Guards, unhand hernow. Let her speak. Briar, what happened?”
His words snarled in my head, tangling in a mass of rage and confusion. I wanted to tell him that I'd found his father like this, beg him not to hate me, but I didn’t have a chance. I tried harder to break free, but the guards continued to drag me away.
My bare feet scraped the marble, slipping in the cold, congealing blood as if it were oil. The air smelled bitter and bloody, and a cloying scent covered the perfume of the lilies.
The pool of Vad’s father's blood was so large that it was mere inches from reaching Vad’s feet despite the space between them. Vad tried to clamber to his feet, staggering, and stretched out his hands, either toward me or the king, as the guards continued to pull me away.
Two figures resembling reapers materialized from the shadows and crossed in front of Vad, one robed in dark gray and one in light. Council members.
The light gray reaper placed a hand on Vad’s shoulder, holding him back. Vad sneered and took in a shaky breath.
A sob ripped from my chest. The guards dragged me to the edge of the garden, and Vad’s wild gaze snapped from the council members back to me. His eyes darkened.
My heart shattered more than I’d ever imagined possible. Of course. Why wouldn’t he think I’d done it? Whoever had killed the king had set me up perfectly.
Dark shadows slicked from the guards’ hands, and cold magic brushed my skin. Shadows thickened around me. My lungs froze. What the hell were they doing? The sensation was similar to what it felt like when I and the other bride contestants had been portaled to our trials through the sigil of the Shadow Kingdom, but only marble was below us now.
“I need to talk to her, right now,” Vad screamed, and the world swirled in grays.
All at once, the gray disappeared, and my feet grated against a coarse stone floor. My nostrils burned from the horrible stench of mold, rot, and blood.
The guards heaved me forward with a grip so tight that the metal of their armor pinched my skin. I had no clue where these twatwaffles were taking me, but if I went there, I’d likely wind up dead or severely injured.
I thrashed, struggling to break free, my wolf howling in my head. I tried to yank their gloves off and break through the metal, but nothing bothered them. They didn’t miss a step.
The joints were the weakest points of their gauntlets, but I couldn’t get a good grip.
The strange new warmth within me flared, and my skin prickled.
Fae magic.
My skin crawled, and I yelped, staring at my arms, expecting them to be covered in bugs. They were bare. Yet the sensation intensified, and I jerked around, trying to stop the feeling. Where were the bugs coming from? I couldn’t see anything but a broad hall with dark stone walls, greasy sputtering torches, and a jagged stone ceiling.
The torchlight cast sickly shadows over the walls, making the prison feel alive. Somewhere behind me, water dripped in a slow, almost deliberate rhythm. Chains rattled erratically, and strangled cries followed each clang. Heavy thuds echoed, accompanied by deep-throated screams.
