All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A t some point, Creslyn knew Drake had carried her back to her bedroom. He’d stretched out alongside her and kept one arm possessively slung around her waist. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, relishing the comfort of the way she fit perfectly against him. Her dreams had been filled with memories of his strong arms, his sculpted body, his wicked tongue.

And stars, the wispy shadows ribbed along his shaft?

Nothing would ever compare.

She rolled over, snuggling into her pillow, and reached out for him to see if she could entice him into taking her again. But when she flung her arm out, her hand landed upon cold satin sheets and emptiness.

Drake was gone.

Creslyn blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

A small fire crackled in the hearth, spitting flames and warming her chambers, but there were no lurking shadows, no swaths of darkness. Even though a gray autumn mist blanketed the outdoors and left tiny drops of dew upon her window, she knew Drake was not with her.

She was alone.

He’d left her…again. Without a word. Without a trace. So often it seemed as though he vanished into thin air, disappearing in such a way that she keenly felt his absence.

Flipping onto her back, she tugged the plush blanket over her naked form, then inspected the palm of her hand. The scar was still there, a smooth, even line, forged from Kjeld’s blade. Though it healed fairly quickly, it was clearly visible, marking her with a pearly black ink like a tattoo.

Creslyn closed her hand into a tight fist, unable to ignore the pinch of guilt lancing through her.

She’d lied to Drake.

She knew exactly what she’d done.

When his dark power had torn through her, scoured her with an invisible blade, she’d pushed back with a vengeance. With fissures of sunlight and shards of rainbows, she had cleaved his shadows in half. She’d lured his corrupted magic, called to the darkness of his soul, and bound him to her with blood and a kiss. It was a heinous thing to do, to force a mating bond upon someone, but the shadowy magic he possessed did not retaliate. It didn’t fight back or lash out. No, whatever lurked inside of him yearned for her.

Now, Drake was her mate, and the thread of magic tying them to one another hummed in appreciation.

She was tempted to reach out to him through his mind, to summon him back to bed, but a knock on her bedroom door left her startled and slightly annoyed.

Creslyn climbed out of bed, grabbed a shimmering robe of gold, tied it at the waist, and yanked open the door.

Only to find Kjeld standing on the other side.

He offered her a half of a smile in that ruggedly handsome way of his, then bowed. “Morning, my lady.”

Creslyn wrapped her arms around herself, fully aware that she was not at all dressed appropriately to receive visitors. “Good morning, Kjeld.”

He smoothed his windswept golden hair back from his face, then roughed his knuckles along his bearded jaw. His bright, summer blue eyes twinkled, and she took note that he was no longer in the same formal attire he’d worn upon his arrival but was now dressed in riding leathers. “His Highness had some business to attend to this morning and requested that I escort you to the courtyard.”

Kjeld twirled the sword in his hand.

Creslyn groaned in frustration. “Kjeld, I was just married last night. Certainly that’s cause for me to bypass a day of training?”

“I suppose you could try to explain your reasoning to the prince, but I have my orders.” He grinned broadly, clearly evident that he had no intention of allowing her to evade his prince’s instructions.

Creslyn glanced down, scowling at the sword. She knew it was heavy, knew her body would scream at her later once Kjeld was done educating her on proper form and every method of attack. She sighed. Heavily. “Fine. But at least let me change into one of my least favorite gowns. Preferably one I don’t mind destroying.”

He winked. “Be sure to dress warmly. It’s overcast and chilly this morning.”

She rolled her eyes and reached for the door. “Lovely.”

“I’ll see you in the courtyard, my lady.” Kjeld’s smile only widened as she shut the door in his face.

The last thing she wanted to do after her wedding night was go outside and be taught how to wield a sword should the need ever arise. But if there was one thing she was determined to do, it was to prove to Drake she was capable of handling herself.

Creslyn freshened up, and kept her hair down, despite the weather. She chose a gown of thick, silvery blue velvet trimmed in satin, then dug through her wardrobe in search of the supple leather boots she’d only worn once when her brother, Tovian, had attempted to teach her how to ride an Eponian.

She’d failed at it. Miserably. Much like everything else she attempted.

Creslyn tugged on the leather boots, lacing them up to her knees, then marched toward the courtyard like she was walking into battle.

Pain ricocheted through Creslyn’s body.

Stars above, fighting with swords was so much worse than hand-to-hand combat. Muscles she didn’t even know existed burned and ached. Her arms were on fire, her wrists felt as though they would snap off at any moment, and her legs seemed to be dissolving out from under her. There was an agonizing twinge in her ribs that throbbed every time she stole a breath, and though a fine mist settled over the courtyard, dampening her skin and hair, it was nothing compared to the sweat sliding down her neck and back. Her gown was plastered to her, an obnoxious hindrance she could not stand, and any time her elbows dropped, Kjeld smacked them with the flat edge of his blade.

The man was positively ruthless. He taunted her, ridiculed her, coerced her to keep fighting, to keep standing. She hated him for it, cursed his name more times than she could count, until his laughter provoked her to try harder. To work harder. To be harder.

He was gradually shaving away all of her soft edges so she was sharp and unbreakable. Fortifying her to become a force of reckoning. Molding her from satin into steel.

Creslyn stepped into the next movement, meeting his attack, and the clang of metal reverberated through her bones.

“Cres?” A feminine voice called out from the far side of the courtyard, and Creslyn recognized the concern in Novalise’s tone. “What in the stars are you doing?”

Creslyn didn’t turn, she didn’t take her eyes off Kjeld. Because the moment she did, he’d use that opportunity to nick her arm or whack her leg with his blasted weapon.

“I feel as though…it’s fairly obvious,” Creslyn panted, dodging Kjeld’s sword as he aimed for her elbow once more. She jerked it back into place, chest heaving. “I am in the midst…of training.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Creslyn didn’t have to look to know that her sister was frowning in disapproval.

“But why?” Novalise asked from the safety of the outlying corridor. “For what?”

“Anything.” Creslyn whirled away from Kjeld, catching a glimpse of Novalise’s lavender hair along the far outskirts of her vision. “Everything.”

“But you’re in a gown .”

“Am I?” Creslyn could not help the derision that fell from her tongue. She was too fixated on avoiding the sharpened point of Kjeld’s sword. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Now, now, my lady.” Kjeld made a tsk ing sort of noise and lunged forward, the corner of his mouth curving in mirth. “There’s no need to take your frustration out on your eldest sister. She’s merely inquiring after your welfare.”

Again, their swords met, but the blow was swift this time, and Creslyn’s boots slid against the slick stone.

She grunted, biting her bottom lip against the assault as her arms spasmed in protest.

“I am quite well, Nova!” She glared at Kjeld, flashing him her most bitter smile. “Thank you so much for your concern, but if you wouldn’t mind, I am significantly indisposed at the moment.”

Creslyn stole a hasty glance at Novalise, gritted her teeth against the pain, and attempted another, though much less vexed, smile.

“Of course, Creslyn.” Novalise stepped back into the corridor, her mouth still partially agape. “Um, do carry on, and forgive my intrusion.”

Forgive, indeed.

There was no doubt in Creslyn’s mind that as soon as Novalise fled their company, she would tell each one of their siblings what she’d just witnessed.

Creslyn huffed out a breath and her lungs seized.

“See?” Kjeld asked, gesturing toward the empty corridor with his blade. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Your concentration is greatly improving.”

A scowl formed across her brow, and she glowered up at him. If he wanted a test of concentration, she would give him one.

She stiffened against a gust of frigid air that swept through the courtyard. Her teeth rattled and her bones trembled. She clenched the hilt of her sword, her fingers so cold she could no longer feel them, but she readied her stance anyway, taking aim. “Where did you say Drake disappeared to this morning?”

“Nice try,” Kjeld teased, blocking her strike with ease. “I didn’t.”

Creslyn paced to the right, mindful of her footwork. Keeping her elbows lifted and her shoulders lowered, she rolled her neck, wincing when it cracked. “It’s rude, is it not? To abandon one’s wife the morning after their wedding?”

She twirled her sword and swung, the clash of metal ringing in her ears like distant thunder. Beads of sweat slid along her neck and over her shoulders, turning to drops of ice in the billowing wind. Autumn’s chill sank deep into her bones, freezing her, as the mist from earlier bled into a steady drizzle.

Matching Kjeld’s movements, she inched closer, staring up at him from beneath a drawn brow. She schooled her expression into one of impassivity as she asked, “You wouldn’t be so quick to leave your new wife’s bed, would you? Not without ensuring her needs were met first?”

A distinctive blush colored Kjeld’s cheeks, and his blue eyes widened in surprise. He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, not realizing that she was slowly backing him into a corner. Right where she wanted him.

His weapon lowered, the faintest of weaknesses. “My lady, I?—”

“I mean surely,” Creslyn interrupted smoothly, stalking toward him, “if you awoke next to your wife who was still naked and swollen from a lust-induced haze, you would snatch the opportunity to bring her to release again, would you not?”

Kjeld coughed loudly, stumbled, and tripped over his own feet.

Creslyn launched herself at him.

She leaned back and kicked one foot out, knocking his legs out from under him. Kjeld toppled to the ground like a fallen mountain, his back smacking soundly against the stone. He grunted, his face contorting into one of fleeting pain as his sword slipped from his hand. It clattered loudly, the sound of victory. Creslyn moved with practiced speed, leaping on top of him to prevent escape. Pressing the flat edge of her blade to his throat, she bent over him. His blue eyes flashed with surprise, then something that could have been mistaken for admiration.

“Now, I will ask you one more time, general,” Creslyn crooned softly as the patter of rainfall sounded around them. “Where is my husband?”

Kjeld opened his mouth then snapped it shut, and a tiny vein pulsed along his forehead.

Darkness descended.

Cold shadows whipped around the courtyard, menacing and violent. They crept around her wrists and waist, snared into her hair, tangling in the wet strands. Her breath misted before her as the temperature plummeted, and the blade of her sword at Kjeld’s neck frosted. She clutched the hilt tightly as white-hot pain seared her palm.

A low, threatening voice whispered past her ear, and pinpricks of awareness raced down her spine.

“Right here.”