All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

D rake did not leave Creslyn behind in the castle to wait for him, and since his next kill was local, she trekked along beside him through the heart of Brackroth on foot.

Her hand fit comfortably in his own, and warmth seemed to radiate from her despite knowing what he would be forced to do.

Nightfall had already descended upon the city, and the oil-burning lamps lining the cobblestone paths glowed like polished amber, illuminating the winding streets in a clash of light and shadow. At one point, he supposed the storefronts and homes had been picturesque, with their richly carved wooden doors and pointed roofs. Each building was painted in a cool, frozen hue—deep navy, slate, forest green, and black. If the sunlight ever shone again, Drake imagined Brackroth would be a treasure to behold, nestled in the valley of mighty cliffs and winding rivers leading to the Havnokk Deep. Until then, however, it would remain muted and dull, obscured by heavy mist, concealed beneath a layer of gloom.

He led her toward a narrow alley, where the sloping roof of a building stretched out just enough to protect her from the elements. She’d changed her clothing after their encounter with Stygg, opting for a navy gown with long, fitted sleeves. The bodice was snug, cinching her waist, and the skirts were layers of velvet to help keep her warm. But already the thick cape she wore was sodden, the hood hanging low, shielding most of her face. A few wispy tendrils of silver hair had slipped loose from her plait, curling wildly in the slight breeze.

Drake slid two fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up to him. “You come no further.”

Creslyn’s mouth fell open, ready to object.

“I know you understand that I must take another life tonight.” He swallowed. “But I…”

Words failed him.

“But what?” she pressed, her sapphire eyes searching him for answers.

“But while you have accepted what I am, it does not mean that I…wish for you to see it.” In truth, he’d much prefer to keep this part of himself secret from her. If he could spare her from his violent nature, he would.

“So I’m to stay here? In an alley ?” A line furrowed across her brow. “Alone?”

“You will not be alone.” His shadows swarmed, wrapping around them both, ensconcing Creslyn in a protective barrier of darkness.

She lifted one hand, palm up, and the inky ribbons of night wove between her fingers.

“No one will see you. No one will hear you. The shadows will hold and keep you safe until I return.” He grasped her hands, squeezing them gently. “I know you want to come with me, kearsta. But please, I beg of you, stay here where you are protected, where no harm will come to you.”

Creslyn peered up at him, her pink lips tugging to one side as she considered his request. His plea.

“Very well.” She rose up on her toes, her mouth pressing the faintest of kisses to the underside of his jaw. “I will remain in the shadows.”

He breathed in her scent, let it fill him. “I will not be long.”

She nodded once, stepping back into the permeating darkness.

With one long last look at her, Drake set off to hunt down his mark.

Cold rain fell from the dense overhang of clouds in a steady pour, and despite the standing puddles, Drake’s boots were soundless as he moved with practiced stealth, not a single ripple or splash left in his wake. Most of the shops were closing for the night, their wind-battered shutters drawn tight, the warmth behind glass windows snuffed out completely.

But as he rounded one corner, Elderuhn’s came into view, the soft glow of swinging lanterns flooding the entrance. Elderuhn’s was owned by Harald Dahlsen, a gem merchant who made a name for himself bringing some of the finest jewels and wares to Brackroth. He was another who did not deserve to die. Another skull which would be added to the collection of tattoos marking Drake’s back.

He approached the shop’s entrance, reached for the handle, then stilled.

Unease prickled down his spine, the sensation of being watched.

Slowly, he turned, his gaze darting between alley and street, lingering where the shadows lurked, watching for any sign of movement. His ears strained, listening, waiting, but there was only the continuous patter of rainfall. He sensed no malice, no threat. Perhaps his awareness was too keen, too amplified by his earlier interaction with Marius and Stygg. Drake reached through the bond just in case, seeking Creslyn, and was met with a calm, even heartbeat and deep, lengthy breaths.

Drake steeled his spine and pulled open the door of the Elderuhn’s.

This time, he made it a point to make his presence known.

His boots thudded against the long planks of hardwood as he tucked his hands behind his back, admiring Harald’s impressive collection of jewels.

Glass cases were filled with necklaces and bracelets of gold, many of them inlaid with rare, sparkling stones from other kingdoms. Rows of black velvet showcased precious rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and his personal favorite, diamonds. There was a display of numerous rings, many of them engraved with whorls and runes, while dazzling gems were set as the focal points. And then he saw a strand of illustrious pearls, perfect for draping around a particular faerie’s neck. Or her thighs.

It was no wonder Marius wanted Harald dead.

There was a great deal of wealth to be made in the gem trade, and if Drake had to guess, Marius wanted full control of such a bounty.

“Your Highness,” a gruff male voice called out, and Harald appeared from the back of the shop, shoving a pair of heavily embroidered drapes out of his way. “It’s been some time since you’ve visited my store. How do you fare?”

“Well enough.” Drake glanced over to Harald as he bustled behind the wide display, ignoring the call of the Shadowblade.

Harald was a stout man with shaggy auburn hair that had been threaded with strands of gray over the years. His cheeks were round and tanned from travel, and his eyes crinkled at the corner when he smiled. He smoothed both hands down the front of his vest, the leather worn and cracked in places. The smoky gray shirt he wore was rolled, revealing half a dozen braided leather bracelets studded with golden beads.

Drake inclined his head as Harald bowed. “You appear to be doing quite well for yourself these days.”

He glanced around the shop once more, a smaller, nondescript display drawing his gaze. There, in a tray covered in crimson silk, sat a necklace. The silver chain was thin and plain, but it was the pendant itself that caught Drake’s eye. Surrounded by a halo of black diamonds was a small, vibrant green stone, its color like that of an emerald, yet more mystical somehow.

Harald’s hoarse voice drew his attention. “I have no complaints, Your Highness. Trade with other kingdoms is proving quite profitable, and now that I have Viktoria working with me, helping me select the most exceptional jewels, business has been more than fruitful.”

Drake paused. There was that sensation again, the one that made his skin crawl. Like someone or something was watching him. He cleared his throat. “Viktoria?”

“Yes, yes.” Harald gestured toward the back room, where the drapes stirred. “Viktoria, come out and greet your prince.”

A young woman emerged a moment later, and perhaps she was the one he’d sensed watching him, because her very presence set him on edge. She was unsettling to behold, with dark teal hair that fell in unruly waves well past her shoulders. Her eyes were the color of pale gold, lined with kohl, and framed by spidery black lashes. She’d painted her lips a deep red to match her scarlet dress. The hem was dirty, the full sleeves hanging off her bronze shoulders, and a tanned leather corset was fastened around her waist.

She gathered her ruffled skirts in both hands and dipped into a curtsy. “Your Highness.”

Drake nodded once, careful to disguise the line of concern across his brow.

There was something vaguely familiar about this woman, yet he was certain he’d never seen her before.

“Have you worked for Harald long?” he asked, in a casual attempt to learn more about her.

“Not long, Your Highness.” Viktoria clasped her hands together. Her long nails were painted the same dark, bloody red shade. “Only recently. Within the last season.”

Her Northernlands accent was thick, stronger than most who lived in Brackroth the whole of their lives. As though she was forcing it.

“Is there anything I can interest you in, Prince Drake?” Harald asked, motioning toward the extensive display of jewelry.

The Shadowblade pulsed with power. It radiated through Drake, stirring the bloodlust churning inside him.

He would need to make this quick. And he would need Viktoria gone lest she witness his assault.

Drake strolled toward the glass case housing the silver necklace and pendant. “What can you tell me about this stone?”

“Ah,” Harald murmured, coming to stand in front of him. He tapped the glass lightly with one knobby finger. “This stone is rumored to be one of power, though I find it rather plain. I’m not certain of its true name, and I’ve yet to see any of its apparent magical abilities, though I suppose it would depend on who was wearing it.”

But Drake had seen such a gemstone before. It was a virdis lepatite , created by a hag who resided in the Fenmire Bogs. The very one he sought to destroy.

“All that being said,” Harald continued, oblivious to the powerful stone in his possession, “its origins are unclear. It was Viktoria who discovered it and brought it to me.”

At that, Drake’s head snapped up, and he tore his gaze away from the necklace to question the woman.

But she was gone.

She’d vanished, possibly returning to the back room from which she came, as silent as a wraith.

Damn it. Asher was right.

If anyone else got their hands on this blasted gemstone, it would be more than dangerous. It would be the beginning of the end. Of Brackroth. Of Aeramere. Of more kingdoms and realms than Drake could even fathom.

“The pearls.” Drake nodded stiffly toward the gleaming strand, fisting his hands at his side. His nails bit into his palms, breaking the skin as the bloodlust burned hot. It throbbed in time to the beating of his heart, a blinding pain that seared his vision and warped his mind. The longer he avoided its summons, the pain would only intensify further, and then he would become more violent.

“For my wife.” He grit the words out through a clenched jaw.

“Ah, yes. The pretty faerie I’ve heard so much about.” Harald bobbed his head, removing the pearl necklace from the case. He placed it carefully into a velvet pouch. “She will make a fine princess.”

“Indeed she will.” The guilt was agonizing. It tore through Drake, clawing at him like the talons of a ferocious beast.

Harald held out the small bag containing the pearls and raised one hand.

“No charge.” He smiled, the warmth of it like a punch to Drake’s gut. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

“Your generosity is most appreciated.” Drake accepted the pouch, tucking it away while gripping the hilt of the Shadowblade with his other hand. “And for this, I am deeply sorry.”

He was swift, ramming the blade into Harald’s heart, ensuring his death was quick and painless. Shock filled the man’s eyes, followed by something akin to pity. Harald’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. He drew one final breath, and the light faded from his eyes.

Drake withdrew the weapon, watched in disdain as its blade absorbed the blood of its mark. He scowled, sheathing it, ignoring the cold sting of pain as another skull was etched into his flesh. Heaving his arm back, he slammed his fist into the case, sending shards of glass scattering in every direction. He no longer cared if Viktoria heard him, if she rushed in to find her mentor dead. Drake’s sole focus now was destroying the virdis lepatite .

But the moment he grabbed it and clasped it in his hand, the air shifted.

Dark and vile magic, unlike anything he had ever known, flooded him, whispering promises of greatness. The stone glowed a sickly green as hideous rays of light seeped between his fingers, holding his entranced gaze. Raw power was in the palm of his hand, ripe for the taking. The darkness delved into his mind, crafted feigned images scraped from the centuries of his past, taunting him with the magnitude of what he could do, of what he could become. His shadows thrashed against the assault, teeming with brutal rage.

How easy it would be to give into the gem’s demand, to embrace the destruction and devastation and ruin. His limits would know no bounds. He could cast the entirety of life and existence into the shadow realm, traverse whole worlds with his excessive power, and leave a trail of wreckage in his wake.

Drake could embody the wicked and foul, he would be an entity of malevolence.

A villain of blood and shadow.

But there was something else.

Something soft and warm.

A shimmering bond tying him to another.

Creslyn.

He blinked and dropped the virdis lepatite , setting his shadows upon it.

Thick bands of midnight engulfed the pendant, seizing it, corrupting its power. They hissed, flaring and building until the glow of the gemstone waned. The chain melted into a puddle of liquid silver, the black diamonds turned to ash, and the virdis lepatite , the source of true evil, dissolved into nothing more than a heap of bones and blood.

Drake stepped away and his shadows withdrew. A prickle of apprehension streaked down his spine, that same feeling from before, and he whipped around, half expecting to find Viktoria watching him once more.

But what he saw instead caused his blood to heat and boil.

Just outside, darting away from the rain-streaked window, was a flash of silver with ribbons of pale pink, cool blue, and lavender, cloaked in darkness.

Damn it.

Drake reached for the bond, seized it, then growled, “You broke your promise.”

She did not answer, but he could feel the rapid beating of her heart, the spike of alarm.

“Run, Creslyn. Do not let me catch you. For if I do, you will wish to be anywhere else than on the receiving end of my fury.”