Vow of the Shadow King (Bride of the Shadow King, #2)

by Sylvia Mercedes

Everything fades away. My world, my existence is enveloped in darkness and strange silence. My only awareness is that empty space where Yok should be. Where I cannot make myself believe he is no longer. But he’s fallen. He’s gone.

Suddenly, nothing else matters. I don’t give a damn for alliances or kingdoms. I don’t care about lies and deceptions and trickery. Whether she’s a seductress or an angel, it makes no difference now. All that matters, is that I cannot let go. Not while there’s life left in my body. Not while there’s still some small chance I might reach her, save her.

Faraine. Her shining eyes, laughing at me from beneath that trolde-style tiara. Lorst light soft and gleaming in her hair. Her lips, curved in a warm smile, full of promise. Full of hope. I’ve failed her. I’ll never reach her in time.

I will save Mythanar. I will save Hael, my brave defender. I will save the refugee children playing among the priestesses’ huts. I will save Trill and the market vendors. The minstrels, the dancers. I will save these people. I will save their city. For you, Vor. For you.

I can’t hold on. I must give it all. Vor’s face appears in my mind, behind my tightly-squeezed eyelids. I wish I’d had a chance to tell him the truth. To tell him I love him. To tell him that nothing else that had happened between us matters. Only my love. The love I chose. The love I will go on choosing. Forever.

Perhaps it is. Perhaps my world has come to an end. If Faraine is dead

Poor thing. It was so wracked with pain. Human bodies aren’t meant to bear that much pain, not all at once. It simply could not survive. A pity. That form served me well. I experienced so many joys, so many pleasures while inhabiting it. There were sorrows too, of course. There always are. But I don’t know any other existence. I suppose I shall have to find out what comes next. After one becomes unembodied.

Vor lifts my body in his arms, cradles me close, presses kiss after kiss into my hair, my cheeks, my neck. Gently, softly, I float down through the misty layers of reality, until I’m close enough to whisper in his ear: I love you, Vor. I will always love you. Wherever I go, I carry my love for you with me. But now you must let me go. Let me go, Vor.

“The princess?” the fiery soul asks. “My wife,” Vor responds. With those two simple words, the tether holding me in place strengthens. If only I had a voice with which to sing! His wife. His wife. At last, he claims me, names me what I am.

I’m not afraid. There is no more pain for me. Only ascension and expansion and the light of eternity. My one sorrow is that I must leave him behind. Vor, I whisper, crooning the words close to his ear. It’s all right. Please, my love, let me—

This is Faraine’s only chance. I would brave far greater perils for the mere hope of seeing her eyes gaze up at me one last time.

Not until I’ve had a chance to tell her the truth. To speak all the things I should have said hours ago when I had the chance.

This is one of the Great Beasts. The Celestial Dancers. The Breakers of Worlds. Long lost to the mists of time and myth, yet always there, always hovering on the edges of instinctual memory.

“But make no mistake, little princess—Arraog, the Fire at the Heart of the World, is stirring. Soon, she will wake. When that happens

“When she wakes,” I whisper softly, finishing the woman’s train of thought, “she will destroy his world.”

“Are you willing?” she repeats. Those eyes of hers seem to dance like flames before my vision. “To come back? To fight for Vor? To fight for Mythanar?”

“Don’t say yes unless you mean it. Such magic always requires a price. It may be greater than either of you wish to pay.” “What sort of price?” “That I cannot tell you. But when it comes, it will be harsh indeed. You may wish you had made a different choice.”

Am I willing to risk all hope of heaven for Vor?

I would gladly die for her if I could, but . . . will I abandon my city? At its most vulnerable? The weight of that choice could break me in two.

Long ago word was brought to me of the witch’s existence, of her presence so near in the World Above. I’d received the word, acknowledged it. Then done everything in my power to forget. I’d sworn I’d never come to this place. I’d sworn I’d never see her, never speak to her. This? This is far worse. To embrace her. As though nothing had ever happened between us. “Please, Vor,” the witch says, her eyes still closed. “Just one little kiss. For your old mother.”

She’s so beautiful in my eyes. So strong, so brave. Dauntless in the face of every danger, a queen of true dignity and grace. She is everything to me. I would give everything for her.

“I give it all, Faraine,” I whisper, my mouth against her soft hair. “My heart. My life. Come what may, I am yours.” A life for a life? So be it.

Vor’s voice. Speaking directly to my heart. Faraine, let me take this. Let me have your pain. No! No, I will not give this to him. If this is the price of my daring to defy the very laws of death, then I alone shall pay it. Not him. Never him. Faraine, let me take this from you. Let me give you my strength.

So, I fall. Fall into the love he offers. Fall into the strength with which he holds me. Once again, I let him carry me, cradling me in his arms and his heart as I’m stabbed over and over again.

“Live, Faraine.” His face must be close to mine. I feel the warmth of his breath against my icy cheek. His voice is thick and urgent. “Live. For you are my very life. Gods damn me for not speaking sooner! But I won’t lose whatever time we have now. I won’t go another moment without you knowing the truth: You are my heart. My soul. My wife. From this day until my last, I am yours and no other’s. Whether you come back to me now or not, it makes no difference. I give you everything, everything.” He presses his forehead against mine. A sob wracks his body. “Only live, Faraine. I beg you, live.”

With an effort of strength beyond anything I’ve ever attempted, I lift my other hand and rest it against Vor’s cheek. He pulls back, gasping. Stares down into my blinking, dazed eyes. Then the very light of heaven shines from his face as his mouth breaks into a smile. “There you are!” he breathes.

This plunge into the sacred pool was our yunkathu—our true marriage swim. Whatever perils we may face, we shall face them now together. To her will I cleave from this day forth. Her defender and her servant, her lord and her love. Whether our marriage lasts a year, a day, mere hours in this world, I shall go into eternity knowing the other half of my heart belongs to her. One flesh. One heart. One whole.

Because she is Faraine. My valorous Faraine. Her strength is not that of a warrior; it is far stronger than mere brute force. Hers is the strength of compassion, of understanding and sympathy. A strength I’ve not properly understood or appreciated until now.

“You are mine, Faraine. My Queen. Sovereign Lady of Mythanar and the Under Realm, from this day forth and forevermore.”

Then and there, with her kiss burning my lips I make a solemn vow: to be worthy of that choice. To be worthy of her love. To be worthy of her. My angel. My queen. My wife.

Deep down, under stone. Under lakes of fire and rivers of magma. Down in darkness impenetrably deep, lost in a terrible dream. The Dragon stirs.