Dark Heir (Dark Rise, #2)

by C.S. Pacat

He knew how dangerous it was to want acceptance from a mother.

He’d dropped to his knee, his fist over his heart. With his green eyes cast down to the ground and his long hair falling about his face, he’d said, You have saved the Hall.

“You want to know who you are.” “Is that so strange?” “You don’t need a shield to tell you,” said Will.

The Hall’s prodigy, chasing a ghost.

He was looking out at a world filled with humans, living their short lives with no fear of the shadow, neither fleeing toward a mage, nor looking up with nervous dread for the death that came when the sky turned black.

That felt too close to the secret part of him that had felt pleased to see James do as he ordered. That felt pleased that James was here, in a place he didn’t want to be, only for Will’s sake. It made Will want to keep him safe, give him warmth and approval, tell him he’d done well.

James looked like a consumptive heroine from a painting, the kind that dies beautifully.

Mordant blue beneath his lashes. Will stopped, a breath in and out.

The way James moved showed a heightened awareness of his body, as if used to being looked at.

Careful. Oh, careful.

“Don’t forget that he was reborn to serve the Dark King.” “I never forget that,” said Will.

“Because they’re dead,” said Cyprian. “They’re all dead.” The Devil was casual in his seat on the horse. “Oh? How’d they die?” “I killed them,” said James. “So don’t get fancy.”