One Dark Window (The Shepherd King, #1)

by Rachel Gillig

was born with the fever, my blood dark as night, With magic unflinching, power and might. My sights, they were endless, my ambition too vast, So I asked for more blessings, for power, amassed. The Spirit did warn me that nothing comes free, That bargains and barters all come with a fee. Though payment was dear, I paid what it cost. With blood and with bones and parts of me

So mind how you use them, and keep up your guard. Twelve blessings—twelve curses. Twelve Providence Cards.

For the Black Horse Card, for power and speed, The Spirit wanted blood from my warhorse, my steed. For the Golden Egg Card, abundance and wealth, I bartered two years of my life’s precious health. The Prophet came next, the Card of foresight. She wanted my fear, so I gave her my fright. When I asked her for courage, the White Eagle Card, I bartered my skin, which left my hands scarred.

So I begged for the Maiden, for beauty I prayed. She asked for my hair, shorn off with a blade.

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.

theres that biting wit i was looking for

I glanced up at him. “What about you, Captain? Are you too nice for your own good?” He watched me, something I could not read flashing in his gray eyes. “No, Miss Spindle,” he said. “I’m not nice at all.”

ahaaaaa

Wary I’d grown, so I needed the Well. She asked for a chamber—a place she might dwell. To reclaim my good self, I forged the Iron Gate. The cost was my armor, my golden breastplate. For the Scythe I wanted power, and her price was quite steep. I gave her my rest—she claimed all my sleep. The Mirror was next, to be invisible—unseen. She wanted old bones, so I gave her my Queen’s.

But it felt incomplete, my collection yet whole. And so, for the Nightmare… I bartered my soul.

For the last Providence Card, I wanted her close, To answer my call when I needed her most. But she guarded her secrets, like a dragon its gold, Saying nothing of price our bargain would hold. But long had I suffered, and long had I bled. “I’ll pay any cost for a twelfth Card,” I said. The salt stung my nose and her spite filled the air. I woke in the chamber, the Twin Alders Card there.

And so, my dear kingdom, my Blunder, my land, The Cards fall to you, paid by my hand. For her price, it was final, our bartering done. I created twelve Cards… But I cannot use one.

He’d wounded my pride. And now, my pride called for blood.

easy tiger

Practice restraint, and know it by touch. Use Cards when they’re needed, and never too much. For too much of fire, our swords would all break. Too much of wine a poison doth make. Excess is grievous, be knave, maid, or crown. Too much of water, how easy we drown.

Love this poetry

“They came in the night,” we said, “the black and red horde. They burned down my castle, put my kin to the sword. The usurper was crowned, though my blood had not dried. But he did not account for the turn of the tide. For nothing is safe, and nothing is free. Debt follows all men, no matter their plea. When the Shepherd returns, a new day shall ring. Death to the Rowans… “Long live the King.”

long live the king

The girl, the King… and the monster they became.

damn