The Lord of the Underworld's mask falls to the dirt floor with a dull thud. Grey inhales sharply. Now, all of us can see his face.
He's handsome, with his caramel-colored skin and dark hair. His blue eyes blaze, unbridled by the thin slits of the mask, and I see that his right eye has a thick scar running over it, one that has thankfully spared his vision. But the scowl on his full lips, coupled with his low-drawn brows, render his intense beauty frightening.
I steel myself. I will not continue to be intimidated by him.
"Am I as you expected?" he asks, raising his sword.
I raise mine in return, gripping it with both hands. "No. With the way you conceal yourself, I expected a far more unsightly creature."
"Do you find me handsome?" He rushes forward, bearing his sword down on me.
I block it, but just barely. The force of his blow nearly knocks the blade from my hands. I sidestep his next attack, grateful that my quickness can at least aid me in this impossible battle. But Victor is quick, too, and relentless. He rushes at me, raining down blow after blow with incredible force. Ironically, I remember Grey's attestation that Victor has no desire to kill me. I suppose that's changed, now that I've exhibited enough nerve to challenge him. I wonder if anyone else has ever done that before, if anyone has ever defied him in any capacity. With all the soldiers he has on his side, I'm sure that any rebellion would end in instant death. Victor is not the type to let anyone off easy, no matter how valuable they may be.
From the way he was so willing to cut off my hand earlier, I'm sure he must be willing to damage me. Even if he does keep me alive, I'm sure that he doesn't need to leave me completely intact to serve him.
I duck under a swipe of his blade that was aimed at my still-bleeding throat. By now, I'm losing my breath. Dodging or blocking seems to take the same amount of energyâif not moreâthan outright attacks. And Victor, by virtue of being a man obviously trained in the art of swordsmanship, and who probably had a good night's sleep in a proper bed, has far more stamina than I. Things are looking dire; I doubt that I will be able to best him.
As I continue to desperately block his attacks, I dwell on the fact that it might have been wiser to have the prince carry out this duel. After all, I've seen him train and I know that he is immensely skilledâmore skilled, perhaps, than Victor. But I can't risk Adrian suffering an injury of any sort, not when my goal is to return him to his castle safely. If I must die in the process, so be it.
"Growing tired, Shadow Thief?" Victor mocks. It's jarring to see his whole face lifted in a sneer to match that of his voice, but at least he's less intimidating without the mask. Now, he seems more human.
My breathing is too ragged for me to respond. I continue to block him and dance out of the way, grateful that I'm wearing my solid bootsâthough, at this point, I have enough practice walking in heels that I might just be able to pull off fighting in them. In the gaps between Victor's attacks, I manage to jab my sword towards him once and swipe at his legs twice. But he's just as good at blocking as I am, and outmaneuvers me easily.
As I jab my blade towards his throat for a second time, he sidesteps the weapon and shoves his own into my side. I cry out as pain blooms across my stomach like the coiling blooms of the mountain poppies that grow in the greatest heights of Itoria. I crumple to the ground, dropping my sword as my arm flops uselessly to my side. By the gods, I will die here. I will bleed to death.
Victor kneels down next to me and leans over until his face is inches away from mine. The scent of bergamot pricks at my nose again, and the scent makes me ill.
"Pledge yourself to me," he murmurs. "The wound isn't fatal. I can heal you."
"No," I murmur. I would rather die than serve him.
His face darkens with anger, as though a cloud has passed over it. "We made a deal, Nyx. You owe me your service. You belong to me. Give yourself and the prince up as my property."
One more chance. I lift my hand, which feels as though it weighs a hundred pounds, and yank his dagger from his belt. Before he can even comprehend what I'm doing, I jab the blade into his body. Though I can't see where I'm aiming, with him so close to me, my instincts are true. The blade finds its final home in his heart.
I am much better at underhanded fighting. Straightforward doesn't suit me.
Victor's eyes widen and he sputters, coughing out blood that splashes all over my face. "You...you are the scourge...of Itoria..." he manages to choke out. Then, his eyes are frozen open forever.
With the last of my strength, I push his body away from mine and whisper, "Help me, Adrian."
In the next moment, Adrian is by my side. His every muscle is strained, and then I remember that I ordered him to be silent.
"You can speak," I tell him.
"On the will of the gods, Nyx, how could you?" he asks, his worry too strong to allow anger to creep into his voice.
He helps me to my feet. We still have Grey and the two soldiers to contend with.
"PrinceâI mean, King Adrian walks free," I remind them.
Grey nods. "But not you." She turns to the two soldiers and says, "I'll deal with them. You take care of our leader's body."
They obey unquestioningly, rushing to the fallen Victor's side and examining his fatal wound, as though they have any power to fix it. With her steely eyes fixed on Adrian and me, Grey says, "Follow me."
She leads us up the ladder, with Adrian supporting me all the way. I am mortified that, even in this state, his arm around my waist is impossible to ignore. Even as I am bleeding out my life, I am overly aware of his hands on me. I wish it weren't so, that I had more control over myself, but I can't hide from the relief that having Adrian so near provides me. Should I die here and now, I think I would be relieved not that I defeated Victor, but that Adrian is once again free.
The house we are in is dark and dingy, with no candles lit to stave off the black of night. I am comfortable here, where no one can see my face nor my wounds, where my dark soul is hidden in the darker world. This, unquestioningly, is where I belong: in a place where the light can't reach. I have lived in the darkness, and I will die in it, too. It's only fitting.
I can feel my consciousness fading, but I force myself to hang on because there are Underworld soldiers milling about this place. Their eyes, white in the darkness, widen when they recognize Adrian. He is unmistakable, with his pale hair and impressive stature, even dressed in plain black clothes and without his guards surrounding him.
"Victor put the prisoners in my command," Grey tells the soldiers in a stern voice that leaves no room for argument. "I am moving them to the next location, as per his wishes."
The soldiers don't question her. She leads us outside through a crooked back door, to a cobblestone street that's bathed in pearly moonlight. I inhale the balmy night air, still leaning against Adrian for support. I wonder what Grey will do to me. I wonder what Itoria will be like under the Silver Prince.
I wonder if I can learn how to live without him.
"Go," Grey hisses at us. Her eyes dart back and forth; she's constantly on the lookout, always operating as though someone is after her. I suppose someone with skills as sharp as hers has to be continuously vigilant. Just like how the Shadow Thief is wanted, surely there are people after those who can accomplish what Grey can.
"What?" I ask. Surely, I misheard her.
"I told you, Nyx, I don't always answer to Victor," she hisses. "He told me he that he planned to torture you until you agreed to serve him, or until he got his hands on the princeâwhichever came first. You're lucky the prince arrived when he did."
Pain blurs my mind like ink smudged on parchment. It's hard to comprehend her words; simple as they are, they make no sense. "You're helping us?"
Grey leans forward to whisper in my ear. "If anyone can save Itoria, I know now that it isn't Victor. It's you, Nyx. Victor doesn't care about a simple servant girl, but you do. And it seems that you have room in your heart for a bastard prince as well. Maybe you can set him on the right path." She steps back and says to both of us, "Now, get out of here before they come looking."
"Thank you," Adrian tells her. His voice is quiet, but heavy with sincerity. "If there's anything I can do for you, come to the castle and I will see that your needs are met."
Grey gives a soft laugh. "You won't see me in the castle." Then she pulls up her dark hood and, with a flick of her cape, is gone.
"Where are we?" I murmur, looking around the unfamiliar street. It's an alleyway, but in one of the rare parts of Durnwall that I haven't been to.
"Stilling Alley," Adrian replies, lifting me into his arms. "Hector is up ahead."
"Stilling Alley," I repeat in a whisper. This isn't a place that I have never been to, it's a place that I have purposely avoided for the past five years, a place that I have carefully picked out of my brain and tossed aside. But now that he's said the name of the street, everything comes rushing back.
This is the place that I once lived with my parents. Our building is perhaps a quarter of a mile past where Victor kept me imprisoned, but I do remember where it is. This is the one place in Itoria that I refuse to visit, no matter whose shadow I wish to steal. And here I am, brought back by the Lord of the Underworld himself. Like he said, he knew everything about me. Perhaps this, too, was calculated. I wonder how he planned to use it against me.
"You know the place?" Adrian asks, noting my tone.
"I'm familiar with it."
It's a strange feeling to be carried by him, a princeânow kingâwho ought to serve no one like this. His arms enclose me protectively, just like that one blissful night we spent together. But this somehow feels more intimate than that night, perhaps because I am bleeding profusely and he will likely be the last person to ever see me alive. I am more unguarded now than I ever was before. Anyone, even a child, could attack me and I would be incapable of defending myself. Right now, I am utterly dependent upon Adrian. But I trust him enough that I don't mind as much as I should.
"How did you know where to find me?" Each word steals away some of my energy, but I feel as though it's worth the effort. I might not make it as far as the castle, and I wish to hear as much as possible before I do. The question truly on my lips is why did you find me? But I'm not ready to ask that just yet, at something tells me that Adrian my not be ready to answer. He has already bared enough of his soul to me tonight; it would be unfair to ask him for any more. And, with his shadow still in my possession, there is nothing for him to hide behind, no corners or darkness for his secrets to lurk beneath. Without his shadow attached to him, everything he is has been cast into the light.
"I'm a prince," he says. "I have connections, Nyx."
"Someone from the brothel," I guess.
"Yes," he admits. "Someone from the brothel."
I gaze up at Adrian. From this angle, his jawline looks as sharp as the blade of his sword, and his arched brows seem arrogant. His lips are pressed together, likely from the effort of carrying me. I turn my head just enough to peer over his shoulder. As he walks, the moonlight shines down on us, but it is only the shadow of my head and my feet that trails over the cobblestones behind us. Adrian's body casts no shadow, yet blocks out the middle part of my body, the part that is shielded by his.
I can feel his shadow still rattling about in the jar that waits in my pocket. Adrian can probably feel it, too.
We only walk past a few streets, but it feels as though we've gone miles before I see Hector up ahead. Her glossy black fur shines as she tosses her head, excited to see that her master has returned to her. Adrian lays me on the ground beside her and kneels down, looming over me.
"Before we return, you must free me," he says.
"Is that a condition?" I ask breathlessly. "Will you let me die here if I don't?"
I think I'm testing him. But he gives me the correct answer.
"Yes," he says. "I cannot return to my castle as the king of Itoria if my will is dominated by someone else. Even you, Nyx, as much as I care for you. If I am to be king, I will be king on my own terms. Otherwise, I will die here with you tonight, right here on this cobblestone street. If you wish for me to do anything else, you will have to command me."
Part of me enjoys this power, and yearns to keep it. Part of me wonders what I would be like, ruling behind King Adrian and making all of the decisions for him. But a bigger part of me recognizes that, if I did that, Adrian could never be mine again. He would despise me, and he would want nothing more to do with me. If, by some miracle, I managed to live through this, there would be no chance of earning his love.
And I think that's what I want.
With one labored hand, I pull the trapping jar out of my pocket. My fingers tremble so much against the cold glass that I almost can't unscrew the lid, but I somehow manage after a few tries. Adrian's shadow crawls from the jar and slides straight through him, making his body shudder and a gasp fly from his lips. Then it settles where it should, blackening out the moonlight behind him.
The jar slips from my hand and clatters against the cobblestones. I hear it rolling away, and hope that it falls into a gutter somewhere, so that it can inflict no more harm upon another innocent soul.
Adrian sucks in a long, deep breath. His eyes briefly flutter shut as he grows reaccustomed to having full possession of himself. He straightens his shoulders and curls his lips into that sinful smile.
"Thank you, Nyx. Thank you for saving me."
"Let me give you one last command," I murmur.
He nods, free to choose whether he will obey or not. "As you wish."
"Kiss me," I tell him. "Kiss me before I die."
"Gladly." He leans down and presses his velvet lips to my mouth. I drink him in, wishing my arms were strong enough to wrap around his neck and shoulders and pull him closer to me. There is not enough of him here; I want to take in all of him one last time before I leave this world and find my way to the next.
"You're not going to die," he whispers.
But his voice is fading. All of him is fading, even his touch. All of him is disappearing, giving way to cold, black nothingness.