The Shadow Heir

I had only seconds to reach the ground before the night guard returned, but my ruffled skirt snagged as I swung my legs over the balcony’s stone railing. Timing my descent with quiet breaths, I held my weight in my arms and lowered myself down. 

One. 

A small ripping sound rent the quiet night, stealing another second as my attention stalled. 

Two. No time to waste. I felt with my toes for the trellis anchored to the whitewashed walls.

Three. Ignoring the way the leaves tickled my ankles, I released one hand from the railing.

Four. I released the other hand.

Five. 

Only twelve seconds before the guard reappeared. With a racing heart and careful movements, I slipped down to the grass below my bedroom window. 

In my haste, I’d knocked a pair of passionflower blooms to the ground. I snatched up the fragrant blossoms and took off toward the wall of boxwoods marking the inner garden on the west side of my family’s estate. 

On a good day, running flat out across the grass from the house to the privacy of the inner garden on my short legs took nine seconds. But tonight, I also wore flamenco shoes and a tight dress.

Holding up my dress, I pumped my legs so hard that a quiet scream tore from my lips as my muscles burned. 

I darted through the opening between the boxwoods and heaved in gasps of air as quietly as I could, tiptoeing around the burbling fountain in the safety of the shadows while holding back the laughter that threatened to spew from my lips. The moon was out as well as a host of stars, but the darkness seemed thicker tonight, as if it welcomed me.

A flicker of fear sent gooseflesh down my arms as I scanned the deep shadows of the garden. Memories of stories recounting the many beasts that prowled the worlds at night flashed through my mind. I’d always considered the tales nothing more than entertainment, until one month ago, when I’d seen the Wild Hunt with my own eyes outside of Puerta de los Reyes as I sped there on horseback beside my best friend, Talia. That night had changed everything for me. That night, the Wild Hunt had stolen a woman, and Talia had disappeared into the fae lands, and I’d been forced to admit that my father’s warnings about a bargain he’d made many years ago with what he simply called la sombra—the shadow—might not actually be lies meant to scare me into good behavior. 

Stolen. Disappeared. Bargain. The words rang in my ears as I picked my way around the happy, oblivious fountain. My heart was bursting from my sprint, and a wave of lightheadedness swept over me. I bent to brace my hands on the fountain’s edge, breathing heavily. 

Dull bronze coins glinted in the water, coins I’d tossed in every year—on my birthday, on every holiday, on my father’s birthday, and during the harvest festivals, where otherworldly creatures were said to be present among us in greater numbers. I’d hoped my father’s words about his bargain with the shadows was a ruse, but deep down, I’d feared it was true. These coins were proof. But with each coin tossed in, each hopeless prayer offered to whatever deity listened to humans, not once had anything happened. Not once had my father come to me and told me the bargain was broken, that his foolish mistake was remedied, that I wouldn’t have to leave my home on my twentieth birthday because of a magical deal he’d made long ago.

In a matter of hours, I would complete my twentieth year. Tonight was my last chance—one more night to break the curse he didn’t seem able to break. It was a half hour to midnight, which meant I had less than one hour until I learned whether my father’s bargain was, in fact, real. 

I stood straight and inhaled deeply. I had enough time. I was so close to breaking the terms of my father’s bargain, to no longer being maldita—cursed. 

The man I loved would break the curse. He would end this tonight. 

Because in all the fae stories, all the fantastical tales of los malditos, true love always broke the curse. And I’d found it. 

I just needed to tell him. To know my love was returned. 

With renewed excitement, I hurried toward the back of the garden to a pale brick wall that marked the edge of my father’s property. 

The flowers I’d grabbed now wilted in the sweat at my neckline, where I’d stuffed the blooms. Ignacio, the stone-faced guard who paraded the west side of the estate at night, had a way of knowing when I wasn’t in my room, no matter how flawless my escape. He might have counted the flowers before his patrol this evening, but I couldn’t be certain. He never seemed to miss anything, and my father had been quite clear about what would happen if I got caught without a chaperone one more time. I’d have to marry one of the rich boys he approved of, and at my birthday celebration, no less. The party could easily double as my wedding celebration. 

But I wouldn’t be marrying one of the stuffy gentlemen’s heirs. I’d be marrying Jorge, and my father wouldn’t be able to say no when he learned that love broke the curse he created. 

As I neared the edge of my father’s property, a man emerged from the shadowy forest and hopped over the wall, arms extended. 

With a quiet gasp, I sailed into his open arms, wrapping myself in Jorge’s warm embrace. We tipped backward against the wall, and for a moment we laughed as we tried to untangle ourselves. 

When we regained our balance, his fingers pushed a stray curl from my face. “Señorita,” he said, voice low. 

His dark eyes carried a seriousness in them tonight, a hunger that made my belly flip over inside me. He brought his lips down to mine, and for a moment, I thought the world was for no one but him and me. 

A moment later, I traced my thumb over his mustache. “This is new.”

He pulled my wrist to his lips and kissed it. “Do you like it?”

I pulled my arm down and smiled. “No.”

His eyes widened, but he pulled me into another kiss. “Now do you like it?”

I placed my hands against his chest, and I could feel his heart beating madly. My own heart rate soared. “You’ll always be handsome to me,” I replied, ready to move to the road and head into town. His affection had grown rather insatiable in the few weeks we’d known each other, and my mind prickled with uncertainty, recalling past mistakes, but my heart urged me onward. Love was meant to be ravenous, unstoppable—who was I to question it when I’d finally found it? 

My heart hammered in my chest as I waited for him to take my outstretched hand. Jorge was different than all the other boys. In him, I’d found a love that would surmount all obstacles. A love that would break the curse that bound my life to the darkness. 

Twenty years ago, my father had made a rash decision. That decision had shaped every day of my life from the moment I was born. My father and mother had wanted a child, desperately. To stop my mother’s grief, my father had sought out the supernatural—a man he only ever called Oscuro, a creature with incredible power who appeared to be comprised of night itself, like his name implied. La oscuridad, the darkness. He’d promised my father a child, but my father hadn’t been sensible enough to ask what the cost would be. He’d accepted Oscuro’s terms without question, so pleased to finally be able to tell his wife the news that they would conceive. 

Only after my father had agreed did Oscuro explain the terms: they would have a child, but after twenty years, the child would have to return to Oscuro’s court. The Court of Shadows.

Jorge’s fingers entwined with mine, and I snapped out of my fearful reverie. I let out a long, quiet breath as I calmed my racing heart, trusting that my curse would be broken when Jorge declared his love. Even my father believed love was the answer, as he’d threatened repeatedly to force me to marry on my twentieth birthday if I didn’t find love on my own before then. 

Jorge and I walked hand in hand toward a waiting carriage. The best parties in Leor didn’t start until midnight, after the restaurants finally closed their doors and most of the late-night dinner goers finally went home. We’d be right on time if we left now. Jorge had promised to bring his sister and her husband, both who were eager to meet me. Before we climbed inside the carriage and lost our moment of privacy together, I pulled on his arm and he swung around toward me, looping his other arm behind my back. 

I tugged his head down so I could whisper in his ear. “Tomorrow is my birthday. I’d like you to meet my father.”

Jorge pulled back a little, his arms still around my waist. “You think so?”

A little surprised by his response, I nodded. “I love you.” 

His lips broke into a smile as they pressed against mine. “You love me?” His hands began to roam, his touch becoming stronger, harsher. 

“Yes, but—”

He angled his face down and went for my neck, but I shoved my hand against his forehead, pressing him back. 

“What now, mi corazón?” he cooed, trying again. My palm barricaded him as I recalled other men who’d attempted to win my inheritance with false affection. One other, in particular, who'd left me with memories I'd tried to blot out. But Jorge wasn’t like the others. He pulled my hand aside, and for a moment, I was nearly lost to the feeling of being so desired. 

“Do you love me?” I asked, smiling as I waited for his reply. 

He stood straight and locked eyes with me. “I want to be with you.”

A note of happiness burst from my mouth, but it was cut short. “You didn’t answer my question.” Everything hinged on his response. 

He backed away, a pinch forming between his dark brows. “Zara, you know how I feel about you.”

“How, exactly, do you feel?” I propped my hands on my hips. 

Jorge shook his head. He looked handsome in his suit, even though it wasn’t half as nice as those worn by the noblemen at my father’s parties. I’d never cared that his clothes weren’t as fine or his carriage as grand. 

“I…I want,” he stammered, running a hand over his short hair. Then he swallowed, as if rallying himself. “Of course I love you. I’d be a fool not to admit it. Come on, Zara.” He grabbed my waist and tugged me toward him.

Heat flared up in my palms and a sinking chill gnawed at my stomach. His confession fell flat, perhaps because of the way he cracked every knuckle in his fidgeting left hand as he stared down at me with hooded eyes. A flash of fear surged in my gut at his look. Two years ago, I’d learned the hard way that some men wanted something other than money, and it had nothing to do with love. I’d been young and uncertain and I’d believed his every word, and it had only left me aching and empty and alone when he’d vanished the next day. 

But not Jorge. He was different. He was…

When he tried to kiss me again, I turned aside. Sweat bloomed up my torso as memories jarred my mind. His hands trapped my hips in a strong grip. 

“Please stop,” I said as evenly as I could, but my heart was beating between my ears, and I couldn’t think straight. I glanced at the carriage. There were people inside. His own sister that I’d never met. We weren’t alone. Yet the carriage was awfully quiet. 

“I’d like to meet your sister,” I said, ignoring the panic rising inside me. Jorge was probably only edgy after his admission, right? Love wasn’t a word one tossed around lightly. He was likely as nervous as I was. 

An almost imperceptible chuckle left his lips, and I froze. “My sister,” he said, his forehead tilting down to rest on my exposed shoulder. “You can meet her in town.”

“You said you’d bring her with you.” I ducked out from under him as playfully as I could with all my nerves in knots. I couldn’t be wrong about him. I couldn’t be that wrong. 

“Afraid of a little alone time? If you love me, show me.”

My mouth fell open in a silent scoff, my body’s alarm bells ringing at full capacity now. “Jorge, I…Please…I don’t…” I couldn’t form a complete sentence. I had been wrong. So wrong.

Deep in my chest, a sharp ache prickled like I’d been stabbed. I backed away from him.

“Zara,” he said, coming closer. I could no longer deny the look in his eyes. I’d seen it plenty of times before, but out here, we were entirely alone. The carriage driver was likely expressly told not to interfere with anything happening inside the carriage. I had to run.

“Don’t look so scared,” he teased. “I heard you were fun.” 

“What?” I shouted, voice cracking. 

“You have a reputation, you know. All the other men you’ve left behind said it was worth it.”

My jaw couldn’t open any wider, and my rage couldn’t boil any hotter. “They what?” I couldn’t believe this, couldn’t wrap my head around the lies, around what my reputation must be to him. Then it hit me. All of this—all of the persona he’d portrayed—was simply a ploy to get me alone, because he believed a pack of lies crafted by men with wounded egos. I pressed both palms to my forehead, smearing away the sweat beading there and feeling a growing urge to vomit. I backed away quickly.

“There you go,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You enjoy tossing out men like the food left on your plate, don’t you?” 

My stomach dropped to the ground, and I hunched forward, dumbstruck. 

“They warned me you’d run. I only assumed it would be after.” He half-turned aside, his hands again going to his hair. 

At those repulsive words, I bent down and yanked the dagger from its sheath at my calf. I’d taken to wearing it everywhere after witnessing the Wild Hunt mere weeks ago. 

The blade glinted in the moonlight as I held it at arm’s length, pointed toward Jorge, my heart in little dusty pieces at my feet. 

“Leave me alone,” I warned. 

Love was supposed to be powerful. It was supposed to break class barriers and expectations and curses. But all it had done for me was ensnare me. I swallowed and stood straighter, harnessing my emotions before they spiraled away with the breeze.

Jorge chuckled dryly. “I thought you wanted me to meet your father. I thought you loved me, Zara.”

An angry huff escaped my lips. “That’s what you call love?” I said, eyeing the carriage with a shiver of unease. To think that’s why he’d courted me. I lifted the knife a little higher, trying to steady my shaking arm. Grateful my father had insisted on putting me through weapons training, I wouldn’t let all those years of training fail me now, despite feeling like I was cracking at the edges. 

Jorge lifted his hands, palms out. “Cálmate. I’m leaving.”

That command—calm down—smashed any remaining bit of tenderness I felt toward Jorge into the dirt at my feet. My stepmother, since she’d arrived five years ago, had used that command more times than I could count, whenever my emotions rose to a level that made her uncomfortable. The words always had the opposite effect, though, and my breaths came faster through my clenched teeth as I glared at the man I’d hoped to marry, the man I’d dreamed would set me free from my father’s bargain. 

And with that, he spun toward the carriage. Before the door closed, he spat one word over his shoulder, “Maldita.” 

My chest cracked from the inside. He couldn’t possibly know. My father had been diligent in his efforts to contain the fact that I was a gift from some magical being. No one would have done business with my father—bought his wine or invested in his vineyards or his ships—if they’d known that. Magic was for stories, not for noblemen. 

But what if the truth had leaked out somehow? Was that why each of the men had left me?

As the carriage rolled away, I stood still, heaving quick breaths, a tear tickling down each of my cheeks. 

“Stars,” I hissed between clenched teeth as I slipped the knife back in its sheath at my calf. I grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it across the road into the trees, where it made no sound at all as it was swallowed by the night. I tilted my head up and stared at the starry sky. “What now? Aren’t you supposed to have some sort of power?” My father had never taught me to pray to anyone, although he cursed the stars often enough that I assumed they held some sway. But if they did, the stars didn’t like me very much. They sent me too many failed loves. Too much heartbreak. And a life that was over before it really had time to start. 

I had mere minutes until my birthday, hours if this Oscuro creature waited until the hour of my birth passed. But that wasn’t enough time to find true love, no matter what my father orchestrated. Marrying a gentleman’s son wouldn’t fix anything. As my twenty years drew to a close, I’d be gone. Whisked away to the Shadow Court, wherever that was. 

No stars, no bargains, no miracles were going to help me now. 

An owl launched into the air nearby, startling me. Peering up at the dark forest, an old, familiar verse from a children’s song echoed in my head: The shadows come to steal and to kill, and they dance away with your heart. If you think them kind or a good place to hide, you’ll die alone in the dark. The song was meant to keep children from wandering away after dark, but it hadn’t done much good for me. 

As I hurried home, Jorge’s words plaguing my mind, I knew that if Ignacio caught me and my father and stepmother found out I’d sneaked away again, I’d feel cursed. But their greatest threat, I realized with a huff, was now my last resort. I’d have to marry whichever bachelor my father could rope into a marriage by sundown. 

I wasn’t in the mood to return to my room. Not yet. I’d only weep into my pillow, which didn’t sound fun or productive, so I picked my way north across the garden, avoiding the areas visible to Ignacio on his nightly vigil between my bedroom and the external doors nearest my wing of the house. To take my mind off of the emptiness growing inside me, I visualized the row of wooden targets lined up at the edge of the shooting field adjacent to our forested acres. Loosing arrows into the center of a target sounded like the perfect way to pass this dreadful night. Besides, if my aim was true, I might even be able to slay this Oscuro whenever he came to claim me.

“Curse the stars,” I grumbled as I stared at the door of a grand mausoleum in the center of a human cemetery. This wasn’t where I’d hoped to find the next mortal on my father’s list. With a flick of my wrist, the heavy stone door responded to my magic and swung open with a grinding sound, releasing a wave of cold air and the stench of embalming fluid. I cringed. The way mortals preserved their dead remains prickled my skin. 

Even through a sealed box, my nose could detect the awful smell. 

The coffin I sought sat on a shelf above another cobwebbed box. This one was studded with gems. I propped my hands on my hips and shook my head. Stealing dead people was never as fun. They didn’t fight or scream. 

I took out my knife and popped off six of the rubies lining the edge of the smooth wooden coffin. Humans were so wasteful—especially the rich ones—thinking jewels would do any bit of good against the nightmares facing them after they left the mortal world. I tucked the small stones into my pocket as my mind flashed with images of crooked little waist-high duendes, with their pseudo-magic and their annoying way of always smelling like rotting garbage, who would likely tunnel into this mausoleum later this very night in search of gems. These lesser fae, often serving in the homes of the high fae, hoarded jewels like dragons, even though the long-nosed creatures couldn’t access the magic inside the stones like a high fae. A duende could use a ruby or an emerald as a nice little bargaining chip, though, anytime they happened upon a desperate fae or the occasional unsuspecting human. Better that I use the valuable stones. 

I shrugged and extracted one of the tiny rubies. Humans knew very little about the magic in their world, and more times than not, their attempts to ward off the shadows only succeeded in bringing us closer. This man had bargained with the Shadow King—a fool’s plea—and assumed a handful of rubies would keep my father from taking his dead body. Well, not my father. Me. 

While Father was away visiting other courts, his errand of collecting mortals fell to his heir. As of one year ago, I was his oldest heir. 

The last time my father had been away, it had been my older brother, Augustín, who’d collected the mortals bound to the Shadow King. A stab of anger pierced my chest as I rolled the faceted stone between my fingertips. The ruby thrummed with a pinprick of welcoming heat—just enough magic to fuel a spell for five minutes, six depending on the spell. A waste in most cases. But when dropped into an elixir, a ruby or amethyst or sapphire of this size would increase the potency threefold, a far more useful application of the stone’s magic. 

Even though Father would be angry that this mortal was dead, I was grateful for the gemstones as I slipped them in my pocket. As if hearing Augustín’s voice, the words don’t waste what we’ve given you echoed in my mind.

With a huff, I shoved the painful memories aside and placed my hand on the coffin and envisioned the place in the woods where I’d agreed to meet Felipe, who’d agreed to help me on my second night of collecting mortals. When I opened my eyes again, I stood in a dark forest beneath thick pines. The coffin rested beside me on the ground. 

Crashing footsteps—a mortal’s by the sound of them—preceded Felipe as he strolled into view between the tall trees, pushing a middle-aged man whose hands were bound.

“Getting cold, princess?” he called over the man’s loud footsteps. 

I rolled my eyes at his epithet. “Did you enjoy harassing the mortal with your brute strength?” I asked. 

Felipe shoved the man to the ground. He grunted and didn’t attempt to get up. After spitting on the forest floor beside the mortal—also unnecessary—Felipe propped one foot on the man’s back.

I pursed my lips. “My father wants them whole, not broken.”

After a small kick, Felipe removed his foot. “There. Happy?”

“Not usually. But that’s not your fault.” I turned and stared at the coffin. “Father doesn’t appreciate the dead ones. He’ll blame me for this when he returns.” I flexed my fingers as the ghost of pain lanced up my arm from my father’s last display of anger.

“Do you think one of ours killed him?” Felipe muttered, his eyes flicking to my hands and back to my face. 

My mouth turned down as I studied the coffin. Mortals died if they broke a bargain with a fae, but a fae only suffered a temporary loss of magic, unless the deal had been specifically crafted to end in death. High fae from every court, including ours, frequently killed mortals bound to my father in an attempt to weaken the Shadow King, a man whose reign had stood unbroken for three thousand years, ever since he’d forged a fifth court when there were only ever meant to be four. But in three millennia, no one had succeeded in dethroning my father. 

I shrugged. “I’ve no doubt there will be another coup attempt, as usual, while Father is away, but I doubt this”—I indicated the coffin—“was one of ours. Wouldn’t give anyone in our court much advantage to weaken him while he’s on the other side of Rivenmark.”

Felipe half-smiled as he kicked a pinecone toward the mortal who was awkwardly trying to get up with his hands bound. “No, indeed.”

As my father’s current heir, my errand was to bring to the Shadow Court all the mortals my father had bargained for, and that meant collecting bodies—living or dead.

That’s why we were out here in the mortal world, fishing for humans he’d bargained with, while he proved to the Star Queen—again—that his court was a powerful ally, and they couldn’t afford to turn on us, should another court attempt to attack our own. 

Felipe chuckled and pulled a tiny bottle from the inside of his waistcoat. “We could always try this.”

“It’s a coffin. Not a sickbed,” I said, flicking my wrist at the box. 

Felipe frowned, clearly disappointed that I wasn’t in the mood to joke with him. Since I was placed in the role of acting sovereign in my father’s absence, nothing really seemed funny anymore. 

Felipe, however, persisted. “If this could imbue that corpse with enough strength to walk into your father’s throne room, it might be worth it. Just to see the look on his face.” 

“Even if we put a dozen rubies in that vial and made the corpse dance for a fortnight, Father would not be impressed. And besides, he’s not returning for an entire year. By then, this corpse will smell too foul to dance for us.” 

Felipe offered a dry chuckle and tapped his chin. “So we bring back one living captive?”

“One?” I arched my brows at Felipe. “Oh, there’s more than one. What, did you think my father was modest in making these bargains?” I cracked my knuckles. “That’s why I brought you with me, to save time.”

Felipe snorted. “Efficiency. Who needs that when you’re immortal?”

His joke fell flat as I stared back at him with a look of mild horror.

He coughed. “Sorry.”

The ghost of Augustín might as well have been standing in the moonlit forest with us, so vibrant were the memories of him playing in my head. Of the last time I’d spoken to him, taking from his hand a worn journal. Of the way his arms had turned a solid black as pain racked his body. Not all of us were immortal. 

The bound mortal stared between us, his rasping breaths loud as a saw in my ear, grating on my nerves. 

Felipe’s smile returned and he filled the silence. “Let me guess, rich, stupid noble makes bargain for a child? Doesn’t think to add any specification clauses?” 

I nodded crisply, thankful for the reminder of why we were here. “Yes. Should be easy enough.”

With a simple spell, Felipe lengthened the bound man’s chains to wrap around the coffin. It wasn’t very nice of us, considering how much humans feared death, but we couldn’t have him running off like a rabbit while we collected the last mortal from this region. 

The forest was a lovely place at night, dark as any place under the moon could be, save the underground halls of Nightsong, where my court made its home. The shadows danced for us as we walked between the trees, down a little road with wagon ruts, toward a large manor house on the outskirts of a city called Leor. Little faces peered at us from the darkness, and I heard the hushed exclamations of both fear and wonder. The night-dwelling creatures in these lands worshiped the Shadows, ignorant of the existence of our oldest enemy, the Night Sovereign, whose court had never fully recovered its strength after the war that granted my father his throne. 

One such creature padded out onto the road on soft paws—a dip, his furry back as high as my waist, his pointed ears flattened, and his tail tucked in submission. I’d never even met this particular animal, but he knew his place. The hound likely smelled Diego on my clothes and knew he could trust me. I knelt to rub its belly as it rolled over on its back, tongue lolling out, gleaming red eyes glowing. This one smelled atrocious and its fur was matted.

“Don’t tell me you want to keep it,” Felipe drawled, rolling his eyes. 

I cleared my throat. “Not at all.” I stared down at the dog—or hellhound, as the humans often called them—and scratched at a tick lodged behind one of his ears. With a quick spell, I dislodged the blood-bloated bug. The dog hopped up and flopped his ears back and forth. 

Felipe cringed away. “It’ll fling fleas onto us.”

I stood and brushed away the black fur clinging to my white shirt. “You do realize these animals work for us? You could treat them with a little less disdain.”

Felipe sniffed. 

The massive dogs didn’t have much magic, but they could be excellent spies. Few fae possessed the magic to speak directly to an animal’s mind, so the dogs were most often employed as trackers or fearmongers, but the dogs could reveal much, if they were trained. 

“Come on, if you pet every hellhound, we’re never going to get there before sunrise.”

I shot my companion a pointed glare. “I’m coming. And there’s no need to rush. This is a nobleman’s daughter we’re talking about. She’s likely never lifted more than a paintbrush in her life, and I bet you these rubies in my pocket that we’ll have her walking out after us willingly, like a good little puppy.”

Felipe grinned. “Deal.”

The words had no sooner left my mouth than an arrow whooshed out of the night and stuck straight into my shoulder. 

“Ah,” I groaned as the arrow shook my frame. I frowned and shot Felipe a pointed glare that dared him to say a word. But instead of teasing me, Felipe tensed, shifting his stare from me to the forest.

I rubbed the muscle around the puncture wound, more concerned with finding my attacker than dealing with the wound.

My eyes spotted a figure, deep in shadow but not invisible to me. The shot had been impressive, considering the range, the dim lighting, and the tree branches hanging across the road. The person must have noticed me staring, because it nocked another arrow and let it loose. I tipped sideways and let it fly straight past me. 

Then, with a small yank, I ripped the arrow from my shoulder and tossed it aside. The skin instantly began to knit back together, leaving me with little more than an ugly bloodstain on my loose white shirt.

At that, the human—for I detected no glamour or traces of magic—darted out from its hiding place and bolted for the distant manor house.

I stormed toward the attacker. 

Her. I stormed toward her. As she ran, I saw an enormous swath of dark hair swish out behind her and the distinct outline of a ruffled dress. I’d been shot by a mortal woman. She moved with the speed of youth. 

Rage seethed in my blood as I stalked my attacker. Despite the fact that most Avencians stayed up to midnight—a result of my court’s influence on their lands—it was an odd hour for a mortal woman to be out shooting arrows, alone. I had time enough to handle this mortal and still collect on my father’s bargain. Lucky for me, this attacker lived in the same house as the last mortal on our list.

The last female mortal. Who, as of today, was twenty years old. 

But a nobleman’s daughter wouldn’t be out at the edge of her estate at night. Would she?

Nostrils flaring, I decided to end this chase. In the blink of an eye, I slipped into the darkness itself, becoming one with the night in my Shadow form, and placed myself directly in the woman’s path.

As was customary, she screamed bloody murder when I appeared in front of her. However, contrary to all my other encounters with human females, this one didn’t melt with fear or swoon at my glamour. 

She shoved an iron dagger into my stomach. 

[END OF SAMPLE]