I am ready to leave at dawn's first light. For once, I will require the sunshine to protect meâVictor uses the shadows just as much as I, so he and his soldiers will be disinclined to chase me in the daylight. Grey is the only one who seems to operate just fine in the light, but she doesn't concern me. I should be able to fight her off if need be.
I dress in Ethel's riding clothes, which is the most inconspicuously practical outfit I have at my disposal. Then I arm myself, with the inclusion of the Immaterial Ring in my pocket. It may yet be of use to me, though I hope I won't have to wear it again. I still feel cold inside, despite not wearing it for three days now.
Aliza was wrong. Facing my fears was a short-lived solution; I am still not myself. Hopefully the effect is only temporary.
I start upon hearing the door open. Morwen enters, carrying a cup of steaming-hot tea. She is strangely early this morning; Ethel must have requested her help with something.
Acting as nonchalant as possible, I sit down on the edge of my bed and accept the tea. "Thank you, Morwen."
"Of course, Nyx."
There's something odd about her this morning. She's as nervous as a deer during an autumn hunt. I take a small sip of the bitter tea, scrutinizing her over the rim of my cup. Something is definitely wrong; she's forgotten the cream and sugar. "How is your sister?"
She looks as pale as yesterday, when I admitted my failure. "Better, thanks to you."
"I realize that it was not enough money," I tell her. She must have been counting on a larger sum from Ethel upon her anticipated marriage to the prince. My stomach tightens. Morwen is the one person I am sorry for disappointing.
"It was plenty," she says softly. "Are you...going for a ride again?"
"Yes." I drain the teaâI need to leave now if I wish to put a good amount of distance between myself and Durnwall before the sun sets. But the moment I stand, my legs crumple beneath me and my vision goes blurry. It feels as though my head has been stuffed with cotton and my muscles replaced with jelly. The teacup slips from my hand, rolling onto the floor.
Morwen crouches in front of me, her wide eyes brimming with fear. "I'm so sorry, Nyx."
The tea. Oh, gods. My lips are heavy as lead, but I force them to move so I can speak just one word. "Why?"
"He has my shadow," she whispers tremulously.
My sight is rapidly fading, but before it blackens entirely, I look at the sunlit wall behind her. Morwen's body seems to glow in the light, but no part of the wall is blackened by her slender frame. It's true: her shadow is gone. Taken, no doubt, by the Lord of the Underworld.
I try to drag myself to my feet, but I am unable to move. The last thing I see is Morwen's terrified face leaning over me. Then everything fades to black.
***
My head is pounding when I come to. Through bleary eyes, I see the low ceiling and bare walls of a basement. The room is dark, except for a lantern on the floor several yards away, which gives me no insight as to how much time has passed since I lost consciousness. When I try to stand, I find that I can't move my hands or feet. My wrists and ankles are tightly bound to the arms and legs of a wooden chair, rendering me completely immobile. I can feel that the knives I hid in my sleeves and boots have all been taken from me.
Everything comes back in a rush. Morwen. The tea. My argument with Adrian. Ethel's disappointment. I have failed, and now I am going to pay the price.
Slow footsteps thud against the scuffed wooden floor. I look up to see Victor's masked figure approaching me. He holds a three-pronged candelabra in his hand, which illuminates the space around him in its yellow glow. An unmasked Grey lurks behind him, gripping a knife in her right hand. The candlelight glints off of it, displaying the sharpness of the blade.
Somehow, I am not afraid. In fact, I think I'm jealous of her knife.
At least, I am not afraid until Victor speaks. "I had such high expectations for you, Shadow Thief."
His low, pale voice makes me shiver, negating the humid warmth of this room. "So did I."
"You failed." He walks towards me and lays one cold hand on my cheek. "After all I offered you, you still failed."
"Now you're rubbing salt in the wound." His voice makes the whirlwind return to my stomach, but I take a deep breath, forcing it to calm.
His fingers are stiff against my face. "Why didn't you bring me his shadow?"
"I think his fears are all equal," I admit. "None of them shine above the others. He is a unique case."
"So you never discovered his greatest fear?"
"No."
Suddenly, Victor raises his hand and strikes my face. The blow is strong enough that my head snaps to the side and the chair beneath me nearly tips over. My eyes water from the pain, but it is of no consequence. I have endured far worse.
"Liar," he snaps. "You should know better than to give falsehoods to the Lord of the Underworld."
"I do know better. I'm telling you the truth."
I can't see his mouth, but his eyes flash from behind his bone mask. "Did you do as I said?"
"Yes. But I am no better than anyone else that has seduced him in the past. My intimacy was not enough to draw his secrets from his stubborn mouth." The memory of that stubborn mouth pressed against mine blindsides me for a moment. It's despicable, the way he can affect me even now, after I have seen his utter disregard for me. I know that I am nothing to him, so why is he not nothing to me?
"Grey tells me that there was a connection between you two. One that none of his whores could rival."
For a brief period of time, I had thought so, too. But now I know that I was mistaken. My eyes flick to the slight girl beside Victor, who is dressed in black from neck to toe. Her posture is ramrod-straight, but the corners of her mouth twitch. She is uncomfortable, I think; she didn't want this to happen to me.
If I can goad her to my side, I may be able to escape this mess. "What will you do to me?" I ask. "Am I dispensable?"
"Not yet," Victor growls. He raises his candles over my head, tilting them slightly so the hot wax pooled around their wicks drips onto my face.
I gasp in pain. Each drop feels like molten fire for a second, then the wax hardens and the burning sensation fades. This man is insane; he will torture me before he kills me. Still, it's not quite as bad as the torment Adrian has put me throughâyet.
"What did you do to Morwen?" I demand. "How did you capture her shadow?"
Chuckling drily, Victor says, "That's what you wish to ask me? The fate of a simple servant girl?"
"How did you take her shadow?" I repeat.
"You are not the only person in Durnwall who steals shadows, Nyx Madden."
I gape at him. All I can manage to say is, "I'm the Shadow Thief." There might be one or two other disenthrallers in Durnwall, but I am unaware of them. They are low-profile enough that I have never encountered them nor heard of their work. Unless...
Victor laughs again, confirming my suspicions. "Darling, they call me the Lord of Shadows."
"Then you could have taken the prince's shadow yourself!" I snap. "Why would you send me in there at all?" He's ruined my life by enlisting my help. Even if I had been successful, even if I had delivered Adrian's shadow to him, my life would be in tatters nevertheless. Adrian has done something to me, something irreversible. There is no recourse to the damage he has inflicted upon me.
"If you knew what my face looked like, you would understand why I sent you instead."
He must be horrifically scarred, like I theorized upon our first meeting. "You knew nothing about me. It was my own fault to accept the task, but you should never have asked me."
"Oh, Nyx." I can hear his mocking smile in his voice. "I know everything about you. I know that your parents died of consumption when you were twelve. I know that you almost died living alone on the streets. I know that you have claimed many shadows, but did not kill a single one until you tore Lord Dustin apart."
My blood runs cold. Everything is so cold; it feels like winter has fallen in Durnwall. I can feel my body trembling from it. "How do you know all of that?"
"Guess."
There are two people who know what my parents died from: Adrian and Blythe. Blythe also knows that I once almost froze to death; I accidentally let it slip when expressing my gratitude that she had a room open that she was willing to let to me. And the duchess must have told Morwen about Dustin, and Victor pulled the information from her shadowâthough it's possible that Ethel told Victor herself.
"You spoke to Blythe?" I ask.
"Grey did. That old woman's lips are as loose as Ethel's."
So Ethel was his other informant, then. "When did you talk to her?"
"Last night. I believe you were with the prince at the time."
I shake my head. "But why would you choose me?"
"Your skills, of course," he says. "They are unrivaled by anyone I've ever met. But, what's more, your isolation makes you that much easier to control. You've hidden yourself away to your own detriment. Don't you know that humans require affection? How do you think I brought Ethel to my side?"
I could have happily gone the rest of my lifeâhowever short it may beâwithout having that suspicion confirmed. "I don't need anyone," I say through gritted teeth.
"I know why you said yes," he tells me. "I know why you so readily agreed to serve me, and it has nothing to do with gold. You wanted a place to belong. Even before you asked me to make you my lieutenant upon your success, I knew that you would vie for a place in my underworld. Admit it, Nyx: you're lonely. But you have no idea how to give anyone a piece of your heart."
"You're wrong." My voice has gone breathlessly weak because, when I think about it, I realize that he might be right. I kept running from Adrian, and I meant to do it again this morning. Yes, it's possible that he was lying about his affection towards me, but now I wonder about my feelings towards him. He is like no one I've ever met before.
There is something between us. Something that runs far deeper than shallow attraction. I can feel it coursing through my veins, this electric connection. Maybe Adrian doesn't feel the same way, but I am doing myself a disservice by denying that I do.
I don't hate Adrian. That's impossible now. He drives me mad with his infuriatingly sinful charm, but there is no hatred there anymore. I wish I could return to the safety of his arms but, once againâand by my own measuresâI am on my own.
No matter. I have been on my own for years, and I know how to survive this.
"Everyone is weak sometimes," Victor says. "But, unfortunately, you chose the wrong time to let it overcome you."
"Tell me what you would have done with Itoria," I request.
"You mean, what I will do with Itoria."
"I failed to bring you the prince."
"Don't speak so soon," he murmurs, running his hand over my braid. "If Grey is right, he may come after you."
I glance at Grey again. She's staring at the ground, wincing slightly, her hand locked around the hilt of her knife.
"Fine," I relent. "What will you do with Itoria?"
"Complete reform," he says. "Fewer taxes, more money directed towards repairing Durnwall and other towns that need it, medicine and food for the needy...everything the king has failed to give us will be provided by me, through the Silver Prince."
It's everything I want for Durnwallâeverything that could have saved my parents from death five years ago. Victor truly does want to help the country, but he plans to do it at Adrian's expense.
"None of this is the prince's fault," I tell him. "I thought so, too, at first. But things are different than any of us could have expected. The prince wanted to help, but the king didn't listen to him. He didn't even love him, as far as I can tell. Why should the Silver Prince have to pay for the sins of his father?"
Victor scoffs. "Listen to yourself, Nyx. Do you really believe that? A man who outranks Ethel could most certainly help Itoria in some capacity. Even if he had merely provided for Durnwall alone, we could trust in him as a ruler. But he's done nothing besides squander his time in personal pleasure and ignore the suffering around him."
It feels strange to defend Adrianâespecially to the Lord of the Underworld himselfâbut I need to. It's almost as though I am the only person who truly knows the prince. With the help of the Immaterial Ring, I have seen him in enough situations to gather a larger picture of who he is. He is a man who patiently endures his father's anger and hatred, yet retains enough compassion in his heart to show kindness to a young boy and to pick flowers for a girl who had never been given any before. I can't excuse his drunkenness or immodesty, but I can at least understand why he behaves the way he does. Despite being a prince, he has little control over his own life, and barely any privacy from his guards. It must be a compulsion, a desperate need to take the reins in his own life, that causes him to drink so much. His state of mind, at least, is something he can control to some extent.
And I think I can understand his loneliness better than most. Victor said it himself: I am in need of a place where I belong. Perhaps Adrian has been searching for that, too.
"He sneaks out of brothels so he can walk the streets of Durnwall," I say. "He has tried to know his people as best as he can. There are far more limitations that have been imposed upon him than you can imagine."
"So you have fallen for his tricks," Victor mutters. "What you must remember is that everything about him is false. Everything you see has been manufactured by those around him. He is less a person in his own right than a product of Itoria. I hoped that you might find the chinks in his armor, that you could expose his faults and shortcomings for what they are, but instead of uncovering his secrets, you have succumbed to his superficial charms."
"He is not what you think he is."
"I don't care what he is!" Victor roars. "And what does it matter if he is the one who pays for the sins of his father? Someone has to pay, and they share the same poisoned blood."
The stripes on Adrian's back, resulting in shed blood, are payment enough. "He won't come after me. You'll never have your chance to take him."
"I don't think that's true."
I hope he won't. "Even if he does, I warned you that he doesn't have a greatest fear. There's nothing you can use to control him."
Victor narrows his eyes. It looks strange behind his mask, as though his eyes have shrunk to half their normal size. "I have my methods."
It's exactly what King Thurstan said before allowing Dustin to flog the prince. "What will you do?"
"You'll find out, if he comes."
The selfish part of me wants him to come. No one else will try to track me down. If Ethel isn't aware of Morwen's shadow being stolen, she'll probably assume that I've run away. And with Morwen's free will controlled entirely by Victor, she won't be able to help me even if she wants to. Blythe is accustomed to not seeing me for weeks on end, and by the time she realizes that something is wrong, I'll probably be dead.
Adrian is my only hope of survival, but I don't truly want him to come after me. It will only end in his death, and the last thing I want is the untimely demise of another person I care about. While I wished to accomplish more before my own death, I won't mind it so much if I know that he, at least, is still alive.
He really has done something wicked to me. I shouldn't care about him this much, but I do. It's strange that I am here, in Victor's captivity, and it's Adrian that I'm worried about. Perhaps the hopelessness of my situation has robbed me of my survival instinct.
Victor picks up the lantern and hands it to Grey. Then he heads to a ladder that leads to a trapdoor in the ceiling, with her on his heels.
"Make yourself comfortable, Nyx," he calls over his shoulder. "You'll be here for a while. And after I deal with the prince, those you hold most dear are next."
They vanish, taking all the light with them. I should feel at home here, hidden in the black veil of darkness: the largest shadow of all. But instead, I feel cold, empty, and, most of all, alone. I could go mad down here, but the memory of Adrian's soft hands keeps me sane. I pretend his arms are around me instead of rough rope, and that I am lying on his luxurious bed instead of sitting upright in this stiff wooden chair.
I think of what he said in the heat of our passion: You are my bliss. Never leave me, I beg of you. I think of how unfair I have been towards him, how spiteful and unforgiving. Guilt increases the chill that consumes me.
I hope he doesn't come.