I am falling.
The Prince
The Warded Mansion
Itoss into the fire another unreadable book, rotten by time and the elements, and watch the dance of the flames. The blood of Aydalla the Huntress has already clotted on the ancient floor. Her black, empty eye sockets stare at the vaulted ceiling. She’s sprawled next to me, her skin charred, already attracting the bugs. One more dead to haunt this tomb. But unlike the others who left their bones here, this one deserved it.
Fifty gold coins and probably some vague promise—that’s all it took to sell her loyalty.
Sorcia is behind all this.
Just as my spies have reported, but I refused to listen.
I bark a bitter laugh.
How many males has Sorcia’s poisonous beauty ensnarled and dragged to an untimely death? My brother’s bride-to-be has always used her looks and family status for gain. Heartless and power-starved, that’s what she is. But to send an assassin after me? This is a whole new level of stupidity.
The corpse of my brother was still not embalmed and prepared for the funeral ceremony when she tried to seduce me. To secure her place on the throne. I pushed her away, and it seemed she took it too personally.
Well, it looks like the tender neck of Sorcia would rather be kissed by the executioner’s ax than by me. Because that cold, calculating seductress has made a mistake.
And mistakes in the Unseelie court end only in one way.
She’s chosen her assassin poorly. Aydalla is skilled in killing and has been boasting about entering the Trials for months. However, the Huntress was a brute. A silly, arrogant brute. Emboldened by the rusty sword she found somewhere in the ruins, Aydalla sneaked upon me sleeping. Her confidence made her attack me without thinking. She chose not to ponder over the strange fact that a seasoned warrior had let his guard down and decided to take a nap during the deadly Trial. Next to the fire, in a city crawling with enemies.
All it took was one well-aimed spell, and her blood boiled.
Bring me the Heir’s ring and get your reward.
This is the only sentence in the letter the assassin kept in her purse. Enough to recognize the elegant handwriting of Sorcia. Enough to lose a head, especially combined with the golden coins with Sorcia’s family crest.
The plan seems to be working. My enemies are already making their moves, revealing themselves.
Time to move on. Time to continue my hunt. I step over the assassin’s body and head to the door.
The cool night air brushes over my skin. Solid darkness creeps from the northern side of the tower, its long tentacles cold and relentless as death itself.
Shadowfeeders.
Elders, this will be a long, exciting night.
The thought of the human with strange magic upstairs makes me hesitate. She hasn’t left the tower yet, probably cowering upstairs after she heard Aydalla’s scream. For a moment, I stand in the empty street, watching the shadows lengthen. This area will be crawling with Shadowfeeders in no time. Tainted Ones will follow soon. Her magic is intriguing but weak, and they will tear her apart in the blink of an eye. Or worse.
This thought is somewhat…disturbing. Before realizing what I’m doing, I spin on my heel and rush back into the tower.
“Hey, human from Tenebris,” I shout while climbing the stairs, “you’d better leave this tower; Shadowfeeders are heading this way!”
Odd. All rooms above are empty, as if the woman has disappeared into thin air. Or escaped through the crack in the wall. No corpse is splattered on the pavement two floors below, so she made it to safety.
There’s no time to ponder over her fate as more Shadowfeeders crowd the streets around the tower.
I rush down the stairs, taking two steps at once.
Summoning my Shadowblade, I melt into the night and head to that warded white building I’ve spotted before.
*
When the Elders decided to unleash the Hex, Atos released the Shadowfeeders from the bowels of his Underworld. Demons starved for life in all its forms; they are remnants of some long-forgotten war among the gods. Just like everything not belonging to our world, their presence triggers certain alarms. It always gets cold when they’re near, and somehow all living creatures sense them.
