All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

W hen Creslyn woke the next morning, she found she couldn’t quite shake the unease settling around her shoulders like a cloak. She’d replayed her conversation with Drake over and over in her mind, always circling back to his one cool, detached statement.

“We are not the same.”

It seemed that no matter what she knew about Drake’s sordid past, which admittedly wasn’t much, his father was apparently far worse.

The only way to distract herself from the growing sense of disquiet was to reflect on some other, more fascinating snippets of their discussion the night before. She wondered what exactly he intended to do with a strand of pearls, and how he planned on using them between her thighs. A delicious shiver of anticipation coursed through her when her thoughts drifted to his mention of diamonds. Lifting her hair from her neck and piling it on top of her head, she imagined the desired gemstones dripping from her ears, from her neck, and finally…her breasts. She had no idea what he meant by that promise, but she was more than curious to find out.

Creslyn rummaged through her drawer of jewels and opted for dangly moonstone earrings and a necklace to match. The rainbow-hued stones were shaped like stars, a perfect complement to her gown for breakfast. She’d chosen a dress of shimmery gold velvet embroidered with decadent pale pink lace along the bodice. The sleeves were long and belled near her wrists, while the neckline was more modest, just lightly showing off her curves.

Her lady’s maid had entered her room nearly an hour prior to help her dress, fashioning her hair into one thick braid with a series of tiny smaller ones woven into it. The hairstyle was lovely, a Northernlands style she’d seen once or twice, yet unnecessary. Even if she was to dine with Drake and his father this morning, it still seemed useless to even bother with her hair. It would be ruined in seconds if she was sent out into the Trench again.

Her magic hummed in her veins, longing for some kind of release.

Creslyn considered creating an explosion of rainbows just for the fun of it when a jarring knock sounded from the other side of her bedroom door.

She crept over, her footfalls silent, and slowly opened it.

On the other side stood Drake, and she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet.

He wore his usual regalia of solid black riding leathers, with silver chains hanging from each shoulder. The faintest stitching could be seen on his chest—a mighty dragon encircled by a wall of flames. His boots were polished and his pants were trim, his broad, muscular body taking up nearly the entirety of the door frame. A lock of dark hair fell in front of his face, while half of it was twisted into a knot at the back of his head.

He looked incredibly handsome.

Positively breathtaking.

Gripping the knob for support, Creslyn leaned one hip against the door. “You know, you don’t have to knock, considering you rarely ever leave.”

Drake smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It was something she noticed about him. His smiles weren’t quite real. They were practiced with an intention of being convincing. Never genuine.

“Would you prefer if I just walked in then, sjellhert ?” he asked, his deep voice coasting over her, the new pet name rolling off his tongue with ease.

She accepted his proffered arm. “I might.”

He guided her down the long corridor that would lead them from her wing into the heart of Castle Brackroth. As they neared the door, Creslyn loosed a shaky breath in a desperate attempt to calm her rattling nerves.

Drake noticed immediately. He glanced down at her, a line etching its way across his brow. “Are you well?”

She highly doubted he would believe her if she lied. “I am simply wondering, is there anything I should be made aware of before breakfast?”

He patted her hand the way one might subdue an anxious child. “Not while you’re with me.”

“But you won’t always be with me,” she asked, angling her face for a better view of him. “Will you?”

His jaw tensed, locking into place.

“I just want to know what I’m getting myself into, Your Highness.” More than anything, Creslyn wanted to be prepared. She didn’t want to be thrown into the Trench again, metaphorically speaking. If King Marius was as wretched as Drake claimed, she wanted to know what to expect.

Drake stopped as they reached the door, then inhaled. Deeply. When he looked at her, the green of his eyes had darkened to that of a forbidden forest. The gold ring around them looked cold.

“King Marius is… corrupt. ”

Creslyn stepped closer to Drake, ignoring the shiver of apprehension needling along her spine.

“Remember what I told you, he hates anything with more power than himself. And you are powerful.” Drake reached for the door and pulled it open. “He hates witches, faeries, any being that might pose a threat to his own greatness. Anyone capable of overthrowing him.”

“You?” she asked, taking in his commanding presence, his daunting stature.

Drake’s gaze flicked back to the door.

“Does he hate you, Drake?” Creslyn pressed, worried she might already know the answer.

“Yes, kearsta .” He led her through the opened door and out into one of the main castle halls, refusing to meet her penetrating gaze. “He does.”

Swallowing her shock, Creslyn allowed Drake to guide her through the maze-like corridors. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have a father like that, to have her entire existence be filled with abhorrence. Her father had been good. Loving. But he’d died sooner than planned, and she’d been too young to fully comprehend her grief.

The doors to the dining hall swung open and Creslyn stumbled.

Drake carefully pulled her to his side right before they entered.

“He will be offensive. Disrespectful. He will be cunning and cutthroat. Insulting and vile. But do not cower. Do not let him think he can scare you.” Drake’s warning caused her blood to rush in her ears. “And no matter what, do not use your magic.”

A rush of air escaped her lungs. “Okay.”

She didn’t sound nearly as confident as she hoped. Looking up, she stared into Drake’s eyes, searching for something to ground her. Then she caught sight of it. Strength. It was a flash, solid and steady. That was what she needed from him. Strength.

“Are you ready?” Drake asked, looping her arm through his own.

“Yes.” Creslyn rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin, defiance ricocheting through her. “I’m ready.”

The dining hall was as lackluster as the rest of the castle.

Crimson draperies hung from rain-splattered windows and though a low fire bloomed in the hearth, the space was drafty and cold. The stone walls were all bare, there were no paintings or tapestries, nothing which might suggest the castle was actually a home. Old wooden beams stretched upward on either side of the ceiling where a black chandelier housed a dozen or more half-melted candles. With each step she took, the aged floorboards creaked beneath her feet. A long oak table stood in the center of the room, draped in plain black linen, and seated at the head of the table was King Marius.

The King of Brackroth did not stand when she entered, and in turn, Creslyn did not sit.

He lounged in the embroidered high-back chair, rapping his misshapen knuckles against the hard surface of the table. A silver crown studded with garnets sat atop his shiny head, and he watched her from beneath a severely drawn brow. Glassy eyes tracked her every movement, her every breath, while he stroked his wiry white beard. His bottom lip stuck out in a snarl, revealing yellowed teeth, and the wide expanse of his stomach seemed to perch on the edge of the table.

Creslyn slid her gaze elsewhere to avoid his harsh stare.

But there was no one else in the dining hall, only the three of them. The silence was agonizing, save for the occasional screech of a dragon from beyond the castle’s walls.

Drake’s hand moved to the small of her back. “May I introduce you to Lady Creslyn Starstorm Celestine of Aeramere, my betrothed. ”

She didn’t care for the way he enunciated the word, as though he was driving the point home. He spoke like a threat. A dare.

King Marius’s dark, cynical eyes roved over every inch of her, looking most pointedly at her ears.

“So,” he drawled with condemnation, “this is the faerie.”

Drake stiffened and Creslyn became all too aware of the fact that his movements were forced. His rage seethed just beneath his surface. She could tell by the way his knuckles whitened when he pulled out her chair and softly muttered, “Sit down.”

Creslyn obeyed, sitting in the seat directly next to his own.

“Breaking protocol already, assassin?” King Marius barked, his sneer focused on her. “Your future wife should be sitting across from you, not right beside you.”

“I have no intention of leaving her side.” Drake eased back in his chair, strumming his fingers lightly on the curving arms. “Ever.”

“Well.” The king’s voice echoed through the vast hall, and he snapped his fingers, all the while his gaze never left her. Servants shuffled in and out of the dining hall, offering platters of smoked salmon, warm biscuits with berry jam, a spread of various cheeses, and bowls of fresh fruit. “Your prince won’t always be around to keep you in line.”

Keep her in line?

Did he consider her some kind of feral beast? A creature in need of taming?

Creslyn remained silent, appalled by the king’s insinuation, as a servant piled a variety of food on her plate. The mouthwatering scent of blackberry jam teased her, but she’d found her appetite had suddenly vanished. No matter what she ate, it would taste of ash and bitterness, thanks to this prick of a king.

“Tell me, Lady Creslyn.” King Marius shoved a forkful of salmon into his mouth and chewed loudly. Her stomach revolted. “What sort of magic curses you?”

She stared at him, sickened, yet unable to look away as he sucked the food from his teeth with his tongue.

Swallowing the burn of bile, she blinked back at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Beg. Such a lovely word.” He lifted a goblet of frothy ale, gesturing to the dining hall. “You’re here, are you not?”

“I am.” Hesitant, she folded her hands in her lap. Drake slowly reached under the table with one hand, his palm coming to rest on her thigh. He squeezed once.

“Then you must suffer a kind of magical affliction,” the king continued, oblivious to her discomfort. “There’s no other possible way you could’ve tricked the Shadowblade Assassin into marrying one of your kind.”

Again, Drake’s grip tightened on her thigh. Bruising this time. He directed his attention to King Marius. “Be very careful with your next words.”

His voice was a warning. An omen.

Fury radiated from him.

Creslyn, however, was finished. Oh, Drake had warned her about the king’s abusive behavior, about the possibility of his disparaging remarks. But she would not sit idly by while he attempted to humiliate and sully not only her magic, but her birthright.

“I am afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Majesty.” She intentionally kept her tone light and airy, borderline dismissive. “My name was written in blood as part of a deal between the Prince of Brackroth and my brother, Lord Ariesian Starstorm. We didn’t even court one another. I am the product of a contract and nothing more.”

This time, she held his damning gaze.

He looked like he was going to combust, like all the food he stuffed himself with was finally going to implode. She hoped his veins would burst open, that he would bleed from the inside out.

“Mind yourself, Lady Creslyn.” King Marius pointed his fork at her, waving it through the air. “Eventually, the prince will need to sire an heir, and if you attempt any sort of magical trickery or any type of business where the future of my kingdom is concerned, trust you will pay with your life.”

Drake jerked forward, ready to launch himself across the table, but Creslyn took hold of his hand and didn’t let go.

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that, Your Majesty.” She flashed a vicious smile of her own. “I am perfectly capable of fucking your son and bearing his children without the assistance of magic.”

King Marius erupted, his face turning a hideous shade of muddled red.

Drake, on the other, almost choked.

The king slammed his fist on the table, rattling his plate, and the goblet of ale set before him sloshed over the rim. “You watch your tongue, witch.”

“Faerie,” Creslyn interjected smoothly, with another callous smile.

“We have chains of iron for dirty creatures like yourself.” King Marius’s eyes glazed over, as though he was crazed. Corrupted, just as Drake claimed. “Another word from you and I’ll have you whipped for?—”

“ ENOUGH !” Drake roared. He lurched to a standing position, heaving the massive table onto its side. Plates and glasses shattered, food toppled to the ground, crashing against the stone floor. Shadows swarmed, violent and predatory. The sinewy tendrils curled around Creslyn, dragging her from her seat and pulling her to his side. When Drake spoke again, his voice was low. Menacing. Disembodied. “You dare threaten her?”

The king had paled slightly, but he did not seem to fear Drake like most who witnessed his wrath.

“I’ll do what I must to protect my kingdom!” he shouted, then pointed an accusing finger in her direction. “You think the people of Brackroth will bow to a half-breed heir?”

Drake’s arm coiled around Creslyn’s waist. “If you so much as look at her again, I will kill you.”

“Go ahead, assassin. Just try to end my life.” King Marius chuckled, sinking back down into his chair. His cruel gaze was once more focused on Creslyn. “We both know what will happen if you do.”

In the next moment, before Creslyn could catch her breath, Drake stole her into the shadows. She gasped, clinging to him as they moved through long stretches of darkness. Endless pitch surrounded her, chilling her until she lost feeling in her fingers and toes. The first time he’d done it, back in Aeramere, she’d been too stunned to process what was happening. But now she felt everything, the way her body almost seemed to drift between the length of the shadows. As though she was a wraith, in possession of a beating heart yet non-existent all at once.

When Drake’s shadows finally dissipated, Creslyn found herself standing with him on one of the treacherous cliffs overlooking the sea. Tiny waterways snaked between the rugged mountains that extended straight upward before plateauing to a damp, grassy knoll. She flung both of her arms out to catch her balance once he set her down, and Drake snatched her by the shoulders.

“Are you mad?” His voice boomed, sending rocks beneath the cliff tumbling into the churning sea below. “Are you trying to give him a reason to kill you?”

Anger ignited inside of her, burning bright.

“Apologies, Your Highness.” She smacked his hands away, but he didn’t release her. “I didn’t realize that me wanting to perform wifely duties would be so offensive to you.”

Drake snared her by the chin, jerking her face up to him. “You provoked him on purpose.”

She answered with a ruthless scowl. “You expected me to sit there and take his cruel judgment?”

“Until you are fully capable of defending yourself, you will keep your mouth shut in the king’s presence.”

Creslyn pulled away from him, yanking herself from his grasp. “That could take months. Years, even. If my life will constantly be in danger, then why did you even bring me here?”

His hands fisted at his side and his face was devoid of any emotion when he said, “I needed a wife.”

Wind gusted into Creslyn, and she tossed her braid over one shoulder, annoyed by the tendrils that had already sprung loose. “Need or want?”

“What difference does it make?” he countered.

Damn the stars, he was infuriating. “I don’t even know why I came to this bleak, blasted kingdom. Oh, wait. That’s right. I was given no choice.”

“Creslyn…”

Her name was a growl on his lips, but she didn’t care.

“You brought me here, locked me away like a prisoner, then ignored me. For eighteen days , Drake!” She paced through the sodden ground, her heels sticking in the soft grass. The frigid wind tore through the velvet of her gown so goosebumps riddled her flesh. She sniffled against the chill and crossed her arms, whirling on him. “Now, I’m expected to learn how to fight?—”

“I will not always be around to protect you.” He reached for her arm, but she dodged his hand, avoiding him.

“And why not?” she demanded.

Again, his jaw locked, and what little warmth was left in his eyes bled away. “There are places I must go and things I must do that I prefer not to discuss.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.” She drew the word out. A pang pierced her heart, but she was so cold, she could no longer feel its pain. “Who is it then?”

He stared at her, then angled his head. “Pardon?”

“Is there some other female, some other woman , whose company you’d prefer to seek?” Because if there was, she would find Kjeld and demand he return her to Aeramere at once. It was one thing to be a wife to an assassin, it was something else altogether to be neglected while Drake gallivanted around with his favorite whore.

“No.” He spoke through clenched teeth, his chest expanding. “There is no one else.”

“I find that incredibly difficult to believe.” Creslyn sniffed again, the frigid air causing tears to well at the corner of her eyes. Her chest heaved, her soul ached. “You rarely talk to me. I know absolutely nothing about you except for the fact that you’re both assassin and prince. You hardly touch me. You’ve left your general to train me. Stars be damned, Drake, you’ve never even kissed me.”

She threw both of her arms out to her sides, exasperated. “How am I to possibly believe anything else?”

There was a shift in his demeanor then. A change she couldn’t quite pinpoint, yet it was somehow obvious to her all the same.

Drake closed the distance between them in one stride. He towered over her, his scent of frosted pine and cold mountains, the first hint of snow, wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

“And is that what you want then?” His foreboding green gaze dipped to her mouth. “A kiss?”

More.

She wanted so much more from him than a kiss.

“Yes, actually.” Creslyn bit her bottom lip, sparks of anticipation firing through her. “I would very much like to be kissed.”

He moved in closer, yet kept his hands tucked behind his back. “I do not touch you, because I know I will never want to let go. I do not train you, because I know nothing will stop me from taking you in front of my soldiers, not even your pleas. And I do not kiss you, because I know it will never be enough.”

Drake captured her waist, hauling her against him. One hand stroked idly up and down her spine, sending tantalizing shivers of longing through her, until all she wanted was every inch of him touching every inch of her. She squeezed her thighs together as his other hand slid around her neck, dragging her mouth dangerously close to his own. He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, tugging gently, then swiped the bitten area with his tongue.

Cautiously, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Now, sjellhert ,” Drake whispered against her cheek. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Creslyn gazed up at him, knowing she would never want anything else. The darkness inside of him called to her, owned her. She would willingly take whatever he gave, and this monster of a man would be her undoing.

“I want you to kiss me.”