Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
But that won’t matter any longer when I can use what little shadowcraft I possess to bind myself to the hollow darkness of Hawk’s shadow. It will make up for everything I lack, and the Nocturne Court will be forced to respect me.
“Sit,” Tassarion commands as he pulls several vials out of a cupboard. He might have been here for decades, but unlike me, he was allowed to keep his shadow powers, and jealousy eats at me. I watch him form a long needle out of nothing, then dip it into each of the bottles. He lets the shadow spill onto a set of cutters, and runes marking the tool awake with a blue glow.
I can only imagine what his shadowcraft was like at the peak of his power, before the human realm exuded its crushing force on him.
“Lean your head back,” he instructs, and I’m painfully aware of the lack of any pleasantries. He’s making a point of not using my title. One day, I will get even for it, but I suppose the life he’s been forced to live is punishment enough.
I expose my throat to him.
He snorts with laughter and taps his fingers where the purple sparks bit into my skin. “You were trying to get it off with human means.”
“An attempt as good as any,” I groan.
“My tools will do the job, but they’re old, and like me, not what they used to be. They might scrape you, but that will be much worse if you flinch. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to be restrained?” I sense the smirk of satisfaction without even looking at him. And no, I most definitely don’t want to be anymore at his mercy than I already am.
“I will manage.”
Tassarion shrugs and picks up the glowing cutters. When I sense their hot radiance so close to my skin, my thoughts drift to Hawk, who’s still waiting for me in the other room. His distrust still hurts, but if he wants proof, I will be able to deliver it to him the moment the collar is off. I imagine him holding my hand in his overgrown paw, and that reduces the fear coiling in my guts like a snake.
But when metal slides against flesh, burning the side of my neck, I utter a frantic shriek.
I stay still, despite the tears pooling in my eyes and my heart beating out of my chest.
“Just the other side now,” Tassarion mutters, and I might be wrong, but I have a feeling he’s being careless on purpose. He wants a royal to suffer, and I’m the closest thing he can get.
I don’t dare to nod and wait for more pain, watching his lips quirk as the umbrasteel burns my flesh the second time. It’s an excruciating sensation, similar to a stab, but I squeeze the armrests, and by the time the collar rolls off me and clatters to the floor, I know it was worth the pain despite the humiliating tears in my eyes.
I’m as free as I can be.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it, princeling?” the smith asks, casting a shadow over me as he leans forward.
I’m still catching my breath, exhausted by fear and the tension lingering in my muscles, so I respond by shaking my head and try to focus my gaze on the unnatural face looming above.
Something about it makes me uneasy, but before I can make up my mind as to why, the door slams into the wall, and Hawk barges in, the engraved axe high above his head. “What the fuck are you doing to him, you freak?”
Tassarion grabs a dagger off the side table. “And who in all hells are you, huh?” he snarls but then his tone changes, and he steps a bit closer to my promised. “E-exquisite…” he whispers.
“It’s fine, Hawk, I’m fine,” I say, even though I’m still a bit dazed by the pain burning the sides of my neck. I don’t know what this is about. I just need to rest for a few seconds before we can go on and enter the Nightmare Realm, leaving behind this in-between place.
Tassarion ignores me, so I look up, forcing my eyes open, and my stomach drops when I spot Hawk’s long, tar-black shadow. It’s almost reaching the smith’s feet.
A split second is all it takes for Tassarion to pull a strand of hair-thin shadow from his head. He reaches toward my promised’s darkness, luring in one of the threads always pushing out of the edges. He squeezes both in his right fist.
“No!” I scream, stumbling forward, but when the grimsmith opens his palm, his shadow is already one with Hawk’s.
I’m breathless as fury rises inside me, scorching every ounce of good will and kindness I ever possessed. How dare this washed-out criminal steal my promised in front of my very eyes, using my moment of weakness against me in a way so perfidious?