I’m gaining a whole new appreciation for alchemy, because brute force would not have saved Tristan. This way, he has a chance. We just need—
“I’ll go fetch a medic!” the Marquise says, heading for her horse.
Kyran gets up as well. “The assassin is somewhere out there,” he warns through gritted teeth, fists clenched. His shadow trembles, releasing wisps of smoke that crawl up his arms.
She shakes her head, mounting her mare. “I’ll be fine. I wasn’t the target.”
“I’ll find the bastard who did this and rip his fucking spine out of his back,” Kyran growls as we watch the Marquise disappear between the trees.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask, all too aware of just how painfully useless I am despite my awakening to shadowcraft.
Sylvan shakes his head, squinting at me as if I’m a splinter under his nail. “Well, it’s not like you can help me hold it,” he says, pointing to the translucent shadow coffin around Tristan.
At least my friend isn’t choking anymore, and instead seems to drift off into a peaceful slumber. He reminds me of Sleeping Beauty in her glass coffin. The lilac powder sparkles in the moonlight, giving his skin an otherworldly glow.
“He can,” Kyran says, still scanning the forest, his back turned to us. I can sense his anger. He’s like a feral wolf dreaming of a hunt but chained to us for Tristan’s safety. And mine.
Sylvan scoffs. “You really gave him the stag’s heart? He’s not even your Dark Companion yet.”
As if I’m not here and I’m not worthaddressing.
“But he will be. If this is what he needed to feel like my equal, then this is what he got.” Kyran’s voice turns raspy, as if the side he showed me in the shadowild is once again about to crawl out.
“You should track down the assassin. He has to die for what he did to Tristan,” I say, because it seems I need to be the one to let him off the leash. Ineedto know the bastard who attempted to kill the man I love is no longer a threat. I might not be able to do it myself, but Kyran sure is. I can’t imagine that I could have lost him. The thought alone is so painful my heart tears in half under its invisible knife.
He looks back but doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“Prince Sylvan will instruct me how to help him.” I can only hope I’m not overestimating my newfound powers when Sylvan’s top lip curls with unwithheld contempt. He doesn’t think I’m worthy of the power Kyran granted me.
Sylvan shakes his head. “I don’t know if it’s wise to—”
“But I do,” Kyran cuts him off and grabs a dagger he had strapped to his boot. His shadow seems to swell, becoming darker, and the smoky swirls wind around his calves as if they can’t wait to hug him again.
I’m not sure what he’s about to do, but he cuts open his sleeve, revealing a shadowy eel sliding over his wrist.
“Will those not be needed more when Heartbreak—” Sylvan tries, but Kyran has made his decision.
He pinches the eel and picks it off his skin. His eyes fill with darkness like they had in the shadowild. He grabs Gloomdancer, unsheathes it, and approaches Sylvan in two steps.
Sylvan yelps when Kyran drives it into the ground between him and me.
“Stay. Guard,” Kyran orders… the sword as if it were a dog, and shadows erupt from it to both sides like a wall. He then turns to look at Sylvan with unsettling black eyes. The darkness inside them overflows and spills down his cheeks like tears made of liquid obsidian. “Instruct him how to help you. Attempt to cross this boundary or hurt him in any way, and you will suffer before I kill you, in ways you cannot even fathom. Do you understand me,PrinceSylvan?”
As he speaks, the wall grows to become a small shadow dome.
“B-but your sword…” I utter, not wanting him to lose anyadvantage in the fight to come.
“I’ll manage,” Kyran says and leans in through the barrier to give me the sweetest kiss, which doesn’t belong on the lips of a man about to commit murder. “Stay safe, my promised.”
“Make him pay,” I whisper when he backs away.
He takes a deep breath, and even Sylvan’s eyes go wide when shadows embrace more of Kyran’s form, making him grow in size. He disappears between the trees, on the hunt for prey who believed themselves to be predators.
It’s strange to be alone with Sylvan, and the silence stretches between us until he huffs with discomfort, holding his palms up. He kneels on the other side of Tristan, right behind the semi-transparent wall of shadow. Kyran protects me even when he's gone, and that makes my heart a little calmer.
“Hold your palms up,” Sylvan says with his eyes fixed on Tristan. “I will transfer some of the weight, but you need to be open to it.”
“H-how?”
