One Dark Window (The Shepherd King, #1)

by Rachel Gillig

Still, it was the first time I stopped fearing the Nightmare—the voice in my head, the creature with strange yellow eyes and an eerie, smooth voice. Eleven years later, and I don’t fear him at all. Even if I should.

“There once was a girl,” he murmured, “clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King—a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two were the same: “The girl, the King… and the monster they became.”

Ravyn Yew. The King’s eldest nephew. My father’s successor—Captain of the Destriers.

But my gaze did not linger on the Captain’s face. I was too caught up in the color—the light—radiating from his breast pocket. It was darker than the Maiden, but just as strong. Dread curled my chest and I choked on air. I had seen that hue of velvet before. Burgundy—rich and blood red. The second Nightmare Card.

Wait, Elspeth Spindle, a deep voice called in my head. I’m not going to hurt you. I screamed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated. “You, on the other hand…” He wiped his bloody nostrils on his sleeve, wincing. “Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s twice you’ve handed me my ass and run off.”

What creature is he, he asked, with mask made of stone? Captain? Highwayman? Or beast yet unknown?

I didn’t realize I had stopped walking until Ravyn cleared his throat, halting a few paces ahead. He must have seen the terror on my face because, for a moment, the firmness around his eyes softened. He glanced down the stairwell. “I’ll never take you there, Miss Spindle. You have my word.”

I peeled myself off the wall. “Animals don’t like me,” I murmured, my heart pounding as I took in my surroundings.

Not the dungeon, then. Don’t be so sure, the Nightmare said. There are many different kinds of cages.

The Black Horse made its beholder a master of combat. The Golden Egg granted great wealth.

The Prophet offered glimpses of the future. The White Eagle bestowed courage. The Maiden bequeathed great beauty. The Chalice turned liquid into truth serum.

The Well gave clear sight to recognize one’s enemies. The Iron Gate offered blissful serenity, no matter the struggle. The Scythe gave its beholder the power to control others. The Mirror granted invisibility. The Nightmare allowed its user to speak into the minds of others. The Twin Alders h...

I know no one’s going to ask me what I want, the Nightmare said, snide to his bones, but just in case you were wondering, the answer is no. No, I am decidedly NOT agreeable.

Alyx’s eyes darted between us. “Yes, well, we should take our seats, Elspeth, my parents—” I put a hand on Alyx’s arm. “You’ve been very sweet, Alyx. But I told the Yews I’d sit with them this evening. Isn’t that right, Captain?” Alyx stalled, midstep. Ravyn ran a hand over his jaw, hiding his expression. “Indeed.”

The Nightmare’s tail made a whooshing sound. Find out. How am I supposed to do that? Best stick to the old ways. Which are? Pressing a bloody ear to the door, I should think.

Elm Rowan looked down at me through rich green irises. When I was on my feet, he wrapped a firm arm around me, shielding me from the crowd. “All right there, Spindle?” “Go away,” I said, the feeling of slapping myself so fresh my cheek still stung. “I think you mean ‘thank you,’” the Prince said, pulling me through the crowd, up the path.

“Let go.” I twisted in his arm, the Nightmare hissing behind my lashes. “And let you get trampled?” Elm said. “Our aspirations will have ended before they’d begun.”