Chapter 2 THE SHADOW LORD

Chapter 2 THE SHADOW LORD
ELARA

The carriage was made of literal shadow.

I sat across from the Shadow Lord, Kaelix, watching him watch me. His silver eyes never left my face, studying me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Or a sacrifice he was preparing to kill.

"You keep staring at me," I said, breaking the suffocating silence.

"I'm memorizing you."

"Why?"

"So I remember your face when you're gone."

The casual way he said it made my stomach turn. "How thoughtful. The executioner wants to remember his victim."

"I'm not an executioner."

"No? What do you call someone who buys people to kill them?"

He didn't answer. Just turned to look out the window at the passing Fae realm, all impossible colors and wrong physics.

"How did you know?" I asked. "At the auction. How did you know I was what you needed?"

"The auction master described you as having possible Wild Court bloodline. Young, healthy, virgin." He said it clinically, like listing ingredients. "You met the ritual requirements."

"That's all I am to you? A checklist?"

"Yes."

The blunt honesty stung worse than a lie would have. "And Lady Seraphine? The woman who bid fifty thousand for me?"

His jaw tightened. "My ex-fiancée."

"She really wanted to stop you from getting me."

"She wanted to spite me. Seraphine enjoys causing difficulties."

"Is she the one who cursed you?"

He looked at me sharply. "You heard about that?"

"Everyone at the auction was talking about it. The cursed Shadow Lord, dying slowly, buying virgins for blood sacrifice." I leaned forward. "So is she? The one who cursed you?"

A long pause. Then: "Yes."

"Why?"

"I broke our engagement three hundred years ago. She took it poorly."

"By cursing you to death? That's more than 'poorly.'"

"She loved me." He touched his chest absently.
"Loved me so much she'd rather kill me than let me belong to anyone else. Ironic, isn't it?"

"That's not love. That's obsession."

"The line is thinner than you'd think." He gestured out the window. "We're here."

I looked out and my breath caught.

The Shadow Court palace rose from the landscape like a knife. Black obsidian, sharp angles, towers that pierced the purple sky.
Beautiful in a terrifying way.

"It's very dark," I said.

"I'm the Shadow Lord. What did you expect? Sunshine and flowers?"

"Maybe a window or two?"

His lips twitched. Almost a smile. "There are windows. You just can't see them from this angle."

The carriage stopped. He opened the door and stepped out, then offered his hand.

I ignored it and climbed out myself. My legs were shaking but I wouldn't let him see.

An older Fae man waited at the entrance. He had kind eyes and silver hair, dressed in scholarly robes.

"My lord," he said, his eyes sliding to me with something like pity. "You brought her."

"I paid a hundred thousand gold, Lysander. Where else would she be?"

"I had hoped..." Lysander trailed off, then sighed. "Never mind."

"Say it," Kaelix commanded.

"I hoped you might have a change of heart."

"I don't have a heart. The curse took it decades ago." Kaelix pulled me forward by my chain.

"Prepare the ritual chamber. Blood Moon rises in forty minutes."

"My lord, please..."

"That's an order."

Lysander's face fell. He looked at me one more time, then bowed and left.

"He doesn't want you to kill me," I observed.

"Lysander has an unfortunate attachment to human life."

"Must be nice to have someone care whether you live or die."

Kaelix glanced at me but said nothing.

We entered the palace. Servants scattered as we passed, their eyes down. Terrified of him.

"How many?" I asked as we climbed a massive staircase.

"How many what?"

"How many girls before me? I'm not the first, am I?"

He stopped walking. Turned to face me. "No. You're not the first."

"How many?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. I want to know how many times you've done this. How many girls you've murdered trying to break your curse."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Twelve."

The number hit me like a slap. "Twelve girls. You've killed twelve girls."

"Yes."

"And it never worked? Not even once?"

"No. The curse would crack, then seal back stronger. As if it was feeding on their deaths."

He started walking again. "But you're different."
"How?"

"At the auction, when they put the collar on you, you bled. Just a drop. But I smelled it across the hall."

"That's disturbing."

"I have excellent senses." He stopped at a door. "Your blood smells like Wild Court. Like ancient forests and primal magic. Like Fae magic."

"I'm human."

"No, you're not." He opened the door to reveal lavish chambers. "Your mother was Fae. Wild Court, specifically."

"That's impossible. My mother died when I was five."

"Wild Court Fae die when separated from their homeland too long," he said, pushing me into the room. "They wither. Fade. Like plants torn from soil. Your father borrowed gold to save her from a disease. We cured her. Three years later, she died anyway. Not from sickness. From being away from the Wild Court."

I stared at him. "You're saying my mother was Fae and died because she stayed with us? With my father and me?"

"It's the most likely explanation."

"Then why would she stay? Why wouldn't she go back?"

"Love makes people do foolish things."

The way he said it, bitter, tired, made me wonder what foolish things love had made him do.

"So what does that make me?" I asked. "If my mother was Fae?"

"Half-Fae. Wild Court royal blood, by the smell of it." He moved to a table, poured water into a cup. "Which makes you exactly what the ritual requires. Not just any virgin sacrifice. A virgin with royal Fae blood."

"So I'll actually die permanently this time. Your curse will actually break."

"Yes."

"And that makes you happy."

He handed me the cup. "It makes me hopeful. I haven't been hopeful in three hundred years."

I threw the water in his face.

He didn't even flinch. Just stood there, water dripping down his perfect, cold face.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Not really."

"Pity." He wiped his face with his sleeve. "The ritual chamber is being prepared. You have twenty minutes. I suggest you make peace with whatever gods you believe in."

"I don't believe in gods."

"Smart girl."

A knock at the door. Lysander entered carrying a massive ancient book.

"My lord, I've brought the ritual texts as requested."

"Thank you." Kaelix took the book, then glanced at me. "Lysander, explain to Elara what the claiming entails."

Lysander went pale. "My lord, surely you..."

"I'm giving her the courtesy of knowing what's going to happen. Explain it."

Lysander looked at me with those kind, sad eyes. "The ritual requires a claiming first, before the sacrifice."

"A claiming?" I asked.

"The Shadow Lord must... claim you. Mark you as his. Body, blood, and spirit." He couldn't meet my eyes. "Only then can your death channel the curse breaking."

Understanding dawned slowly, horribly.

"You mean he has to..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yes," Kaelix said flatly. "I need to take your virginity. It's part of the ritual."

The room spun. "No."

"The contract compels you."

"I don't care about the contract!" My voice rose. "You can't...you can't do that!"

"I can. I will. Because the alternative is dying slowly over the next three weeks, feeling my body age and decay." His silver eyes were emotionless. "I'd do anything to avoid that.

Even this."

"Even rape and murder."

He flinched. Actually flinched.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Even that."

My legs gave out. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. "I hate you."

"I know."

"I hope your curse kills you."

"It will. In about three weeks if this doesn't work."

"Good."

Lysander cleared his throat awkwardly. "My lord, the chamber is ready. The Blood Moon rises in ten minutes."

Kaelix walked over to me. Offered his hand.
I looked at it. At him. At the door that led to my death.

"If I refuse?" I asked.

"The contract forces you to obey. You'll walk to the chamber whether you choose to or not."

"Then why offer your hand?"

"Because you deserve the illusion of choice, at least."

I laughed. Bitter and broken. "How noble."

But I took his hand anyway. Because what choice did I have?

He pulled me to my feet. His hand was cold. Dead cold.

"Will you at least tell me your real name?" I asked as we walked. "Before you rape and murder me?"

"Kaelix. Just Kaelix."

"Well, Just Kaelix. I hope you remember this. I hope killing me haunts you for the rest of your miserable immortal life."

"It will," he said simply. "They all do."

We reached the ritual chamber. The doors were carved with symbols I didn't understand. Red light seeped through the cracks.

"Last chance," Kaelix said. "Any last words?"

"Will you remember me? Or will I just be number thirteen?"

He looked at me. Really looked at me. "I'll remember."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Then he opened the doors, and I walked into hell.

The ritual chamber was circular, carved from black obsidian. Runes covered every surface, glowing red in the Blood Moon's light. Candles surrounded a raised stone platform in the center.

It looked like an altar.

I was the sacrifice.

"Get on the platform," Kaelix said.

"No."

"The contract..."

"I know! The contract will force me anyway. But for one minute, let me pretend I have a choice. Let me pretend I'm a person and not a thing you bought."

Something flickered in his eyes. "One minute."

We stood there in the red light. The Blood Moon hung overhead, fat and bloated.

"Do you ever wish you could go back?" I asked.
"To before the curse?"

"Every day."

"Would you marry Seraphine?"

"No. I didn't love her. We would have destroyed each other eventually anyway."

"Then why did she curse you?"

"Because I left. Because I chose loneliness over her. She couldn't accept that."

"So she decided if she couldn't have you, no one could."

"Yes."

The Blood Moon reached its peak. The runes blazed brighter.

"Time's up," Kaelix said softly.

I climbed onto the platform. The stone was cold beneath me. I lay back, staring up at the red moon.

"Elara," Kaelix said. "Look at me."

I did.

"If there was another way, I would take it."

"But there isn't."

"No."

"Then stop apologizing and just do it."

He knelt beside the platform. Started removing my chains, my collar. His hands were gentle despite everything.

"By blood and shadow," he began, "I claim this sacrifice..."

The ritual words echoed through the chamber. Ancient. Powerful.

"...as flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood..."

He leaned over me. His face inches from mine.
"I'm sorry," he whispered so quietly I almost didn't hear.

Then he kissed me.

It was supposed to be brutal, I think. Forceful. Part of the ritual.

But it wasn't.

It was almost gentle. Hesitant.

Like he didn't want to do this any more than I wanted him to.

His hands moved to my shift, pushing it up. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I'll make it quick," he murmured against my lips. "I promise."

"That doesn't make it better."

"I know."

His hands moved higher. I was shaking so hard I thought I might break apart.

Then he stopped.

His hands stilled on my thighs.

"Open your eyes," he said.

I did.

He was looking at me. Really looking. At my tears. My terror. My resignation.

"I can't," he said.

"What?"

"I can't do this." He pulled away, letting my shift fall. "I thought I could. But I can't."

"The curse will kill you.

"I know."

"Then why..."

"Because you're not just a sacrifice." He stood, ran a hand through his hair. "You're a person. And I'm not... I'm not this much of a monster."

Hope bloomed in my chest. Painful and fragile.

"You're letting me go?"

"I don't know. The contract still..."

That's when the magic exploded.

Green light erupted from my skin. I gasped, feeling power surge through my veins like lightning. Wild, uncontrolled, ancient.

"What's happening?!" I screamed.

"Your magic!" Kaelix stared at me in shock. "It's awakening!"

Then I was bleeding.

Not from a wound. My skin was weeping silver blood, Fae blood, as the magic tore through me.

The ritual seized the power. The runes shifted, drinking in my blood.

Pain. Incredible, searing pain.

I screamed.

"Elara!" Kaelix grabbed me. "You have to control it!"

"I don't know how!"

"Pull it back! Breathe!"

But I couldn't. The magic was burning me alive from the inside.

Through my blurring vision, I saw black veins on Kaelix's chest start to crack. The curse mark. It was breaking.

It was working.

But I was dying.

"Elara!" Kaelix's voice was desperate. "Hold on!"

Then he did something. I felt his shadow magic wrap around mine, forcing it back inside me, sealing it away.

The ritual shattered.

The light died.

Everything went black.

The last thing I heard was Kaelix's voice: "Stay with me. Please. Stay with me."

Then nothing.