Vow of the Shadow King (Bride of the Shadow King Book 2)

There’s a stone wrapped around my heart.

I lie on my narrow bed, atop the piled furs. Above me, the ceiling is jagged with stalactites. There’s no canopy, no embroidered silver stars. Just me and that heavy, serrated stone, cast in gloomy extremes of shadow and highlight by the moonfire on my hearth. It’s all too easy to imagine those sharp, toothlike protrusions breaking, falling. Skewering me through the eye. Yet, I go on lying here. Over and over again, I imagine hairline cracks forming, followed by a growl as the stone begins to give. The little wobble right before the fall. And me. Immobile, unable to lift a hand to protect myself. Unable to roll away. Trapped beneath my inevitable doom.

My right hand grips my pendant, squeezing harder and harder. It doesn’t matter. Ever since escaping that dark chapel, I’ve not been able to feel its resonance. It’s been hours now since I staggered into this room, shut the door in Yok’s face, and leaned heavily against the wall. I’d struggled then to find the life of the crystals buried deep inside. Only silence answered.

I flatten my hand against my breast. My heart feels so heavy! So impossibly heavy, as though it will break right through me, fall out between my shattered shoulder blades, and hit the floor below with a thud. Summoning all my strength, I manage to roll onto my side and sit up. Both hands grip the edge of the bed even as sweat trickles down my forehead, my neck, between my breasts. I’m shivering, but my skin feels as though it’s on fire.

It’s the crystals. They did this to me. Those urzul stones down in the chapel. Blood-fed and pulsing with dark intensity. Their pulse petrified my heart. I don’t understand how. I don’t have to understand. I simply know.

Oh, gods! I would give anything for relief! My hand fumbles for my pendant again, raising it to the level of my eyes. I search intently for some spark of life inside. It’s too small. Too weak. I need . . .

I need a larger crystal.

A whimper on my lips, I push up from the bed, sway, catch my balance. Shuddering, I cross the room, barefoot. I wear nothing but a sleeveless white shift that only reaches my knees. The skin of my exposed limbs prickles with cold, but I don’t stop to grab a dressing gown. I need to get out of here. Now.

I grab the latch, turn it, throw open my door. Light from a near lorst sconce falls on Yok’s face. The poor boy starts from his doze and blinks stupidly. “Princess!” he gasps. His gaze runs down my body then back up to my face. A flush stains his cheeks. “Princess, is . . . is something wrong?”

I cross my arms, hands knotting tight. “I wish to go to the gardens.”

Yok’s brow wrinkles. “Now?”

I nod.

“Princess, you cannot go out again. Not this dimness.”

“The room is stifling. I need to walk.”

The boy shakes his head, his soft features hardening. “I’m sorry, but you must stay in your room. At least until lusterling. It’s . . . I believe it’s what the king would want.”

“What does it matter what the king wants?” My voice sounds almost too harsh to belong to me. I can’t help it. The stone around my heart is grinding, agonizing. If I don’t find help soon, I don’t know what will happen. “You were sent to serve me, not him.”

Yok shakes his head. “I always serve the king, in whatever way I can.” He tips his chin. “The king bade me keep you safe, so that’s what I will do. I . . . I shouldn’t have let you venture into the grakanak-gaakt. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

I study him silently. Try as I might, I cannot get a sense off him, not with my gods-gift locked down. But I don’t need my gift to see the resolute loyalty in his face. Were I not so desperate, I’d admire the boy. As it is . . .

With a little smile and gentle sigh, I lean out of the room, keeping one hand pressed to the wall inside the door. “You’re a good soul, Guardsman Yok,” I say, reaching out and taking him by the hand. He tries to pull back, but I firm my grip. “I am lucky to be in your care.”

With that, I send calm into him. Yok’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth, begins to speak, to shout. Before more than a strangled sound can emerge, he topples to the ground, unconscious at my feet.

I stare down at him, panting softly. The boy deserved better than this. By now the pain in my chest is so great, however, I can scarcely think of anything else. But I can’t leave an unconscious guard’s body lying outside my door either.

I grasp his ankles and drag. He’s heavier than he looks. It takes everything I have to get him into the bedroom. Any moment, I expect someone to turn the corner at the end of the passage and catch me in the act. No one comes, however, and I manage to get him inside. Then I draw the door shut and slip silently away down the passage.

I must find that garden. I must find that circle of tall crystals. I must find relief. If it’s the last thing I do.