Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Making our way there is filled with constant greetings to Tristan, questions about me, about dancing, about our future, and my mind spins. Tristan grabs three different tiny snacks for me, and at least we’re in the warmed tents now. From up close, the fabric they’re made of reminds me of transparent latex, but in the context of this ball, it’s like a sheet of ice allowing us a glorious view of the cloudless sky.
I can already see the Lord from afar, as he’s tall, and surrounded by elves vying for his attention. While the designer of clothes made for me and Tristan incorporated the gothic aesthetic subtly, Lord Kyran is a true prince of darkness.
His cloak drags behind him, trimmed with bundles of crocheted yarn resembling sea foam. His collar is stiff and rises above his shoulders like jagged rocks piercing the ocean water. Even his eyes play the part, gray like the eye of a storm. And when he touches his Dark Companion’s back, he’s like the god of the seven seas extending protection over his favorite.
And the human whose name I know is Luke is beaming with joy despite his dark ensemble. A short blue jacket with pauldron spikes makes his shoulders look wider, but he’s no bigger than me. I even spot two-inch heels on his tall leather boots. His brown hair becomes green halfway down and falls elegantly on his shoulders. To mark his position at court, he wears a bejeweled crown, which is such a stark contrast to his septum piercing.
He has his arm around the Lord’s and doesn’t appear to be held captive in this castle. He looks… happy, and the flush on his cheeks deepens when Lord Kyran whispers something into his ear.
Envy twists inside me almost immediately, and I weave my arm around Tristan’s as he leads the way across the tent decorated so beautifully I can’t believe we’re outdoors.
A string quartet provides the musical backdrop to the conversation and merriment, and I catch myself following their tempo with each step.
Could I really live this fairytale dream, just like Luke does?
I’ve always been a bit of a wallflower, so how would I fare as a prince’s… what? Consort? Husband? Tristan did propose, but does he still want us to marry, even once we sever our shadow bond?
All eyes are on us as we approach the Lord, but I’m instantly distracted when I see Luke twist his hand in the air, causing a dark shadow tentacle to emerge from his palm. He turns toward a servant passing with a tray, and the tentacle extends to grab a glass. He then brings it back under the Lord’s watchful eye and passes it to him with a smile.
I’m stunned and grab Tristan, making him stop in his tracks. “Did you see? How can he do that? He’s human. Or is that—” I sense pins and needles at the pit of my stomach. “Something Dark Companions can do? You didn’t mention they have magic!”
Tristan’s eyes are on me in an instant. “It’s a long story, but as you can see, not an impossibility. Most Dark Companions can’t do that, but is that something you’d like?”
I exhale, but my lips crook. “Who wouldn’t? Then I really would be like the chosen one.”
I don’t know if Tristan knows this trope, but for just a moment I contemplate having supernatural abilities and turning into the fantastical version of myself I imagined back in childhood.
“Chosen for… what?” he asks with his eyebrows lifted, but we’re already approaching the Lord, and only then I spot another elf next to Lord Kyran’s towering figure because he’s just that tiny despite also wearing heeled riding boots.
His hair is so blond it’s almost white, and he has the face of a porcelain doll, pink lips included. He zeroes in on me with big blue eyes, then his gaze darts behind me. “Oh my. It really is faint,” he says, and I realize he’s talking about my shadow.
“Sylvan,” Tristan says with a deep inhale. “Strange comment from someone who lost their shadow completely.”
He groans and rolls his eyes. “I am only saying what is plain to see. Is it true that you were tortured to help it grow? Did it work?”
I choke, stepping back so fast my heels tangle in the train. The bright interior darkens, music morphs into the loud crashing of waves outside, and I’m falling, falling, falling, straight into the hole in the floor, where the bloodthirsty creatures await their meal.
A strong arm scoops me up, and then I’m partially hidden under Tristan’s cape, his fingers gently combing through my hair, so fragrant with the scent of oiled leather. “He didn’t mean it, my love.”
Love?
Air dances in my throat, and I slide my arms around Tristan’s waist, savoring his warmth, because his presence is so healing I can’t stop the flood of emotion pouring through me.