All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

E ighteen days.

Creslyn Starstorm had been living in Brackroth for eighteen days. Not once had she seen the sun shine through the dense wall of gray clouds that seemed to shroud the entire city. Not once had she slept through the night—the shriek of dragons always woke her with a racing heart. And not once had Prince Drake Kalstrand, her betrothed, spoken a single word to her.

But she knew he watched her.

She sensed his presence between the shadows of the dreary halls of Castle Brackroth. His scent followed her, and the long stretches of darkness moved in perfect cadence with her as she walked. He kept her locked in a private wing with her own bedchambers, her own maids and servants, her own loneliness. She had yet to meet the king. Stars above, she hadn’t even been allowed to explore any other part of the castle. Creslyn was a prisoner in what was supposed to be her new home. She took her meals in silence, and it was a rare occasion if she could get more than a few words out of one of the servants. Though she supposed that had everything to do with the fact that she was fae and they were all humans. She imagined it must’ve been quite the shock for their beloved prince to return with a faerie for a bride instead of a mortal princess. Not that it was any excuse for them to act as though she didn’t exist. For the most part, she spent her days fuming in idle boredom, so much so that she’d taken to tracking the constellations in a journal. Hidden away from court affairs and any other possibilities of excitement, she remained exiled to her wing like she was nothing more than a bargaining chip from a deal gone sour.

But she knew Prince Drake remained in the shifting darkness, patiently waiting for her to scream, to cry and weep, to beg him to return her to Aeramere. Where she belonged.

Creslyn scowled.

She would not give him the satisfaction.

Freshly annoyed by her own downtrodden mood, she peeled herself up from the sumptuous bed and sighed.

Her personal chambers were nothing to complain about. In fact, they were quite lovely, save for the lack of color. She would’ve preferred brilliant hues of gold, pink, lavender, and teal. Something reminiscent of the magic coursing through her veins. Yet nearly everything here was doused in shades of black, gray, and silver. Though the silver she didn’t mind at all because it reminded her of the stars.

The walls were papered with black velvet roses, tipped with specks of glitter. The canopy of her four-poster bed was pale gray silk and the sheets were midnight satin. White fur rugs were spread across the ebony hardwood floors, and the hearth, with its glowing fire to ward off the constant chill, was lined with dark marble. Even the draperies hanging from the arching windows were a gossamer fabric that reminded her of a starless night.

Creslyn swung her legs over the edge of the bed, bundling her rosy pink fur robe around her. At least her gowns and shoes weren’t as drab as everything else.

Once Drake had deposited her in this room upon their arrival, her personal effects from House Celestine had been delivered a few hours later. She had no idea how he’d managed that, nor had she been given the opportunity to ask. The moment the trunks full of her belongings had shown up, he’d disappeared again without saying anything.

The man was absolutely maddening.

She raked her fingers through her mass of hair, untangling the strands of silver streaked with icy blue, soft pink, and pastel purple. The loose waves fell to nearly her waist and while her lady’s maid—a petite woman with plump cheeks and kind eyes—arranged her hair daily, by lunchtime Creslyn had already taken down her fine handiwork. It was useless to have her hair done so beautifully when there was no one around to see it.

Standing, she padded across the soft rug, shivering when her bare feet touched the chilly hardwood floor. She pulled open the glass doors to her balcony, grateful the prince had not seen fit to lock those as well, and stepped out onto the ledge jutting high above all of Brackroth. A gust of brisk air cut through the fur of her robe, causing her skin to pebble with goosebumps. She shivered against the assault, wrapping her fingers around the ornate bronze railing to steel herself in the stiff breeze. Though it had been near the end of summer when she left Aeramere, she had no idea if the kingdom of Brackroth followed the same seasonal patterns, or if it had any change in weather at all. It was always damp and overcast with a steadfast bite in the air.

Creslyn stared out over the vast city of spires and misshapen dwellings to where angry mountains slashed across the inky horizon. Only in the dead of night were the skies of Brackroth clear, and it was then she could see the hundreds of twinkling stars embellished like diamonds across a canvas of black satin. Here, the constellations were not the same as they were in Aeramere. They were scattered about, as though the Mother Goddess herself had flung them into the sky with haphazard care. Creslyn sought Vespira the Druid, the star sign she was born beneath, searched the skies for her radiant staff, but found nothing.

Vespira could not be seen in Brackroth.

The moon was barely a sliver in the sky, its illuminated crescent a small reminder of home. In the far-off distance, she could see the silhouettes of dragons soaring above the steep mountaintops.

A shiver trekked down her spine.

Cupping her hands together, Creslyn called to the magic flowing inside her. A tiny drop of sunlight formed in her palms, filled with dozens of iridescent rainbows. Her power wasn’t quite the same as that of her seven other siblings. Whereas each of them possessed some form of celestial magic, she controlled sunshine and rainbows, a pretty kind of magic that was hardly useful. Even her twin sister, Caelian, was blessed with the ability to create falling stars and grant wishes upon them, despite their souls mirroring one another. Creslyn always assumed it was a product of being the last child born into the Starstorm family line. Perhaps the gods and goddesses had simply run out of stellar powers to grant.

She didn’t mind, though, not really.

She loved being able to fashion showers of rainbows and beams of sunlight. Her magic suited her.

Behind her, there was a shift in the air, like a weighted looming presence, and she couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Which could only mean one thing.

Prince Drake was here.

Snuffing out her magic completely, she spun on one heel and stalked back into her bedroom. She caught the scent of him first—frosted pine and cold mountains, the fragrance of the earth right before the first promise of snow. Her gaze slid around the space, focusing on the play of shadows against the far wall, how they seemed darker, more sinister, than the rest. The only light source came from the hearth, where orange flames wavered and sparked, as though they’d been recently stoked to life.

Creslyn’s mouth pulled to the side in disdain.

So, the mighty Prince of Brackroth wanted to ensure she was warm but didn’t have the decency to show his face. How thoughtful of him.

“You know,” she drawled, closing the balcony doors behind her, “I don’t appreciate being made to feel like a captive. I’m quite certain Ariesian would be none too pleased to learn the truth of my current predicament. Especially considering the terms of your contract.”

Her eldest brother, Ariesian, had negotiated for her to marry the prince in exchange for Brackroth’s protection. Though why House Celestine needed the promise of safeguarding from someone like Prince Drake was beyond her. Either way, she had been part of a carefully arranged deal. One that involved her becoming the wife to a prince, not his prisoner.

“Still ignoring me, I see.” She curled her fingers around one of the bedposts, swinging casually. “And why is that, I wonder? Perhaps we should make a game of it…”

Creslyn snapped her fingers, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll try to guess the reason why you keep me secluded in this wing of the castle. If I’m wrong, you can continue lurking in the darkness and acting as though I am nothing but a thorn in your side. However, if I am right , then you will show your face and explain exactly what is going on here.”

Sensuous laughter, deep and rumbling, spilled from the far corner. The sound of it chilled her blood while sending a spear of heat straight through her. She’d never heard him laugh before, even if it was at her expense. To make matters worse, she enjoyed it.

No matter, she was well-versed in the art of whittling away her opponent’s willpower until they caved and gave in to her demands. She had years of practice with her older siblings.

She fiddled with the satin sash of her robe, running her fingers over the soft fabric. “Maybe it’s that you had no intention of taking a wife, and I’m nothing more than a significant means to an end.”

Silence, but the shadows continued to lurk.

“I take it I’m incorrect in that assumption?” Slowly she paced the length of her quarters, considering each word with care. She would get his attention, one way or another. “Very well. I suppose it’s possible that you intend to offer me up as some kind of sacrifice. Could it be that your dragon, Svartos, has a taste for magical blood?”

Creslyn pinned the far corner of the wall with a pointed look. Again, he said nothing. But the shadows were crawling with tension, nearly pulsing with irritation.

Good.

She sauntered back toward her bed, then sat on the edge, crossing her legs so that her robe fell open neatly on both sides all the way to the top of her thighs. She couldn’t be certain, but she could have sworn a guttural noise came from the corner and it sounded much like a growl. Planting both hands behind her on the cushioned mattress, she leveled the pressing darkness with a glare of her own.

“But I think the real reason you keep me hidden within these walls is because you’re ashamed of me. You wanted Novalise and you got me instead, the younger, spoiled sister who lacks any kind of social decorum and who doesn’t give a damn about being a lady.” The words hurt far worse when she said them out loud, but sometimes the truth was painful to hear. “Not only that, but it’s been terribly obvious since the moment I arrived that you’re disgusted by the fact that I’m fae and not a human. I’m sure your court is in an uproar with unpleasant jokes and vicious rumors.”

The fire in the hearth fizzled, dying to nothing more than a few spitting sparks and burning embers. Already her bedchamber was drastically colder, as though all the warmth had been leached from her room. She fought against the urge to tremble and locked her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. Without the glow of the flames from the hearth, the shadows devoured every wall, every window, every breath of space.

Still, he did not show himself.

Agitation clawed at Creslyn, and though she knew it was likely an awful idea to goad him further, she no longer cared. Rolling her eyes to the painted ceiling, she shoved up from the bed and stood.

“Fine,” she ground out, yanking on her sash. “If you will not speak to me, then I am going to bed.”

She dropped her shoulders, allowing her robe to fall to the ground in a pile of rosy fur at her feet, leaving her fully nude. She pointed to the door. “You can see yourself out.”

Creslyn spun back toward her bed, but she wasn’t fast enough.

The prince was on her in an instant.

One minute she was reaching for the plush comforter, and in the next she was in the air, then flat on her back, pinned beneath him.

A startled cry pealed from the back of her throat, but she swallowed it when his face came into her line of vision and all the shadows bled away. Dark hair tumbled forward, slanting across half of his face, falling lightly onto her forehead. She longed to reach up and tuck it behind his ear, just like she wanted nothing more than to trace his chiseled jawline with the tip of her finger. Unfortunately, he snared her arms above her head and held them in place with one hand.

The feel of his palm against her skin was like ice, and this time she couldn’t stop herself from shuddering.

His mouth curved at the corner. Slow and intentional. Those dark green eyes of his, with the mesmerizing gold rings around the outer edge, held her in place. “I rather like it when you shiver beneath me, wife. ”

The audacity.

“I am not your wife.” Creslyn strained against him, then immediately regretted her actions. Her bare breasts scraped against the leather of his vest, causing the sensitive peaks of her nipples to ache.

“Not yet.” Prince Drake’s mocking smirk remained in place. He adjusted himself above her, nestling one knee on the mattress directly between her thighs while the other pressed close to her hip.

He bent forward, lower so that his nose almost touched her own. His lips were so close, if she angled her head to the right, she could kiss him. She imagined he tasted of dark winter nights, of forbidden desires, of everything she should never want. She dragged her gaze from his mouth back to his eyes, then tipped her head back, determined to remain defiant.

“Not ever at this rate,” she snapped, and a tiny thrill of delight sent her cheeks flushing when those damning eyes of his followed the curve of her neck to the swell of her breasts.

Her entire body ignited beneath the heat of his gaze.

She knew she should fear him. After all, he was capable of killing her in less time than it took to breathe. He was the Shadowblade Assassin, lethal and cunning, a deliberate mastermind of death. He moved with shadows, had stolen more lives than she could count, and was beyond violent in nature. The prince lacked any morals, his soul long ago tainted by unknown demons, and yet she’d been selected to marry him. Of course, she’d never witnessed any such atrocities, but she had every reason to believe they were true.

Despite being malicious and cruel, Prince Drake was also devastatingly handsome, which made it all the more difficult to resist him. That…and there was something about the darkness haunting him that enticed her. Something about the brutal monster skulking beneath his surface that called to the deepest, most secretive part of her soul.

With his free hand, he gathered a few strands of her hair, his scarred knuckles just grazing the valley of her breasts.

Creslyn’s blood hummed, and she held her breath.

He twirled the pieces of her hair around his fingers, the starlit hues a harsh contrast to the tan of his skin. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled, revealing muscled forearms that strained as he kept himself propped up above her with one hand, her wrists still tight in his grasp.

“Tell me, solysa .” Drake’s thick Northernlands accent coasted over her, and she found it impossible to look anywhere else but into the depths of his intense gaze. “Do you often sleep naked?”

She huffed. “Yes, Your Highness. Though you’ve watched me often enough, I would assume you already know the answer. I prefer sleeping in the nude to nightgowns as I find myself tangled up in the middle of the night. Though I don’t see what that has to do with?—”

“I was merely curious.” He ran his thumb back and forth through the strands of her hair. Then he let them fall away and slid two fingers beneath her chin, his lips brushing along the corner of her mouth as he spoke. “Let me be clear on one thing.”

Creslyn stilled, waiting for the reprimand.

“Everything I do is for a reason. King Marius hates all that is more powerful than himself. And you, my pretty little faerie, are powerful . More so than a pathetic human king.” He slid his hand around her neck but applied no pressure. Instead, his thumb stroked lazy lines up and down her throat. “I will make you my wife, but only when I choose to do so, and not a moment sooner.”

His mouth moved to her cheek, then hovered above her ear. “Do you understand?”

A line of frustration pinched her brow. “So, you intend to keep me confined to this part of the castle for what? Weeks? Months?”

He pulled back so she could once again see his face, and this time, shadows danced around him. “Are you so eager to bed your prince?”

“I am eager to have a life.” Her scowl deepened. Of course, he would think so little of her. But she wasn’t accustomed to spending her days alone, wallowing in a state of tedium. She preferred to be outdoors or wandering through gardens, and she enjoyed parties and sharing bits of gossip. Stars above, she would accept being relegated to the library to read if it meant she didn’t have to sit in this room one more day.

Creslyn peered up at him from beneath her lashes and sighed softly. “Please.”

Prince Drake stared at her. His jaw clenched, but his grip on her neck remained easy as he continued his smooth caresses. Then suddenly, he released her completely. With his shadows swarming, he sat back on the bed. His voice was cold when he said, “Fine. But you will have an escort.”

“Really?” Creslyn jolted upright and launched herself into his lap. She threw her arms around his neck, grateful that freedom was finally within her reach. Tomorrow, she would leave this godsforsaken wing and see as much of the castle and Brackroth as possible. “Thank you.”

Icy cold fingers grabbed her waist, and she almost jumped out of her skin. It occurred to her, albeit belatedly, that she was fully nude while straddling him.

“You tempt me with your graciousness, solysa ,” he murmured into her hair before plucking her off his lap and depositing her back onto the bed. His stony gaze devoured every inch of her, lingering on each dip and curve. “I’ve yet to decide if you will be my destruction…or my salvation.”

Creslyn shook her hair back and crawled beneath the heavy velvet comforter. Then she flashed him her most flirtatious smile. “Please, Your Highness. It will take more than a few flowery words to get me on my back.”

He smirked, then stood and stepped into his mass of shadows. “I already have.”