When I reach the box from which we will descend into the water, watched by all the spectators, I’m surprised to see not Elodie but Sylvan at Anatole’s side. His expression is grim and he’s also in his riding leathers, but strapped to them are dozens of vials and pouches. I have no idea what they might be for. Is he intending to poison the leviathan?
The crescent-shaped arena, huge enough to accommodate a sea monster, booms with noise, but when I step closer to Luke and spot my crest on the cape slung over his arm, I want to ravage him in the backrooms, after throwing out the servants. As I step closer, Anatole blocks my way in his fine black leathers, and spits between us with an expression colored by unadulterated loathing.
“You’re a fraud and everyone here knows it, regardless of what the letter of the law says.”
My fingers twitch with the desire to knock his jaw out of alignment, but I keep the fury in and meet his gaze as if he doesn’t have the capacity to slight me. I’m satisfied enough to see that he’s limping a little. Guess even the best potions can’t heal a broken bone overnight.
“Is Elodie not participating after all?”
Sylvan takes a deep breath and avoids my gaze. Taking into account that he barely reaches my shoulder, he’d have to arch his head a lot to do that. He usually wears at least an inch of heel, but for the competition, he’s opted for flats, and it shows.
“She drowned. The River of Souls took her.”
I never had much love for Elodie, but it must hurt to lose two family members in such a short time, so I nod and say my condolences. It is only then that I notice the ribbon in faded hues on both the Goldweed brothers’ shoulders, a symbol of mourning.
The one close person I ever lost was my mother, so I can’t know how they feel. It is a shame that they’re choosing to put their lives on the line too, in a fight that won’t be even. Especially Sylvan, who’s never had much talent for shadowcraft.
When Anatole refuses to move, I step around him instead of creating a scene and finally,finallyreach out for Luke. Andros, who’s been waiting alongside him, shows me a coal-black key and approaches me from behind with an apologetic expression.
I look into my beloved’s deep green eyes when Andros unlocks the collar and pulls it off me.
Not that we’ve completed the marriage ritual, I was expecting to sense the warm embrace of his shadow, but instead lust spills into my heart, then drains down my body. It’s like a hit of fairy dust, and I can’t fight its intensity. My breath quickens, my heart beats faster, and my shadow seems to have gotten a mind of its own, because it pulls Luke closer before I can consider it myself. I’ve never experienced anything like it. My shadows are as voracious to lick and consume him as I am.
Luke chuckles and doesn’t put up a fight when my dark appendages grab his ass. “Hello to you too,husbanddearest.”
I barely pay attention to the sudden silence around us, because when Luke’s lips touch mine, I’m his completely.
It’s impossible to miss Anatole hissing though, “You. Did. Not.”
A wicked chuckle crawls up my throat, and I hug Luke, turning to take in both the Goldweeds and Tristan, who waves at me with a silly smile.
“Oh, I did.”
Sylvan’s pale as he clutches the utility belt armed with all the potions in the world. He’s not too proud to ignore the fact that his already small chances of winning the contest have just becomeminiscule.
“But…. that’s an unfair advantage,” he says, frowning at Andros, who clears his throat and offers both my opponents a tight smile.
“Unfortunately, there is nothing in the rules of succession about treating a situation like this as anything special. You were both well within your rights to join your sister and procure Dark Companions of your own.”
“They were separated!” Anatole yells, pointing to us as if his tantrum can undo our bond. “Both had guards at their doors. How did this happen?”
Andros spreads his arms. “I do not know. They were both in their respective quarters in the morning.”
Luke bites back a smile. Unable to keep his hands to himself either, he wraps his arm around my waist.
“Well, then you can perish together.” Anatole glares at us, no longer bothering to keep up the mask of politeness. I don’t know if this is worse than his prostrating and groveling, or if I prefer to see his true face.
I glance at Sylvan’s tense features. “You can still back out of this.”
He flushes like an untouched bride on her wedding night. “No. I’ve made up my mind. You’re underestimating me, like everyone else, but when I’m crowned, I will change how things are done.” There’s a surprising amount of conviction in his voice. He really thinks he can win this.
Anatole squints at his brother. “A crown might make you a little taller, but not bigger where it counts,” he says and, in a gesture so vulgar I didn’t expect it in this setting, even from him, he glances at Sylvan’s crotch.
I might not like Sylvan, but I pity him now. These are the exact bully tactics my brother used over the years to make me feel like living in his shadow was my only choice. That if I ever showed my true self to anyone, they would despise me without exception. That I didn’t deserve respect or love just because of the order of our birth.
I can’t keep quiet.
“He’s the only sibling you have left,” I say, but before either of the brothers can respond, the crowd above and around us roars at the horn announcing the arrival of the leviathan.
