The Shadow Prince

“It’s all ruined. All of it. It’s over. She’s never going to trust me again. She’s probably never even going to look at me again.”

 

 

Dax lets go of my shoulders. He has the audacity to look upset. Joe wouldn’t have been attacked if Dax had been there. I wouldn’t have had to expose my powers in front of Daphne.

 

I take a swing at him. It’s an impulsive move, and I think I’ve caught him off guard for once, but he grabs my fist midair. He uses it to force me into one of the armchairs. “Sit down. Shut up. And tell me what exactly the Tartarus happened!”

 

Dax doesn’t raise his voice often, but when he does, it has the same effect as a punch to the jaw. Reason returns to me, and I realize there’s no one to blame for what happened tonight. Not Dax, not Daphne, not Joe, and not even myself.

 

I had made the prideful mistake of thinking I had any control over any of this. What had happened had happened. No matter how I disliked it, it was what fate had wanted.

 

“What I don’t get is why would fate choose me for this quest, and then rip away my chances for success right when everything was starting to come together?”

 

“Maybe you’re supposed to go down a different path,” Dax says. “Maybe because you’re supposed to make your own fate.”

 

I glare at him. “That’s blasphemy.”

 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Does anyone really know?”

 

“You’re addled.”

 

“You still haven’t told me what happened.”

 

I’m quiet for a moment. “She kissed me.”

 

“Nice,” Dax says. “How is that a bad thing?”

 

“It’s what happened afterward.…” I launch into the story of Joe being attacked by the Keres and how I killed it.

 

“You killed it?” he asks, interrupting me. “You killed a Keres? Are you sure?”

 

“It exploded into a thousand little pieces. I’m pretty sure it’s dead.”

 

“How?”

 

“I don’t really know. It’s like it had a reaction to Daphne’s voice or something. It became solid just long enough for me to blast it.”

 

“That’s intense.”

 

“Tell me about it. I don’t even know what I would have done otherwise.”

 

“You still haven’t gotten to the part where Daphne kisses you,” Dax says. “Get to the goods.”

 

As amazing as Daphne’s kiss had been, I can barely muster the words to tell Dax the rest of the story. He lets out a low whistle when I get to the part when Daphne saw my scars and ran away.

 

“I can see how that would complicate things. She probably thinks you’re a total nut job.”

 

“A what?” I shake my head, getting it. “Never mind.”

 

“So what are you going to do now?”

 

“What can I do?” Fate had brought this down on my head. Perhaps as punishment for my acts of disobedience? My hubris? “She’s never going to talk to me again.”

 

Dax starts to say something, but a dinging chime rings through the house. I stand up, searching for the origin of the noise.

 

“It’s the doorbell,” he says.

 

“Ignore it,” I say.

 

“I bet Garrick forgot his keys.”

 

“Let him sit in the cold for a bit.” I don’t want Garrick to be a part of this conversation. He’ll probably go squealing it all to Simon.

 

Dax sighs and heads for the front door. I sit back in the armchair and bury my head in my hands. I’d been a fool for ever thinking I could pull this off.

 

“Seems I was wrong,” Dax says, coming back into the family room. “And so were you. You have a visitor, Haden.”

 

I tug at my hair and look up at Dax … and find Daphne standing right next to him.

 

She crosses her long, tanned arms in front of her chest. “I want answers,” she says. “And I’m not leaving until I get the truth.”

 

 

Daphne has planted herself beside one of the armchairs and shows no signs of leaving anytime soon. I pull Dax aside.

 

“What am I supposed to tell her?”

 

“Try the truth.”

 

“I’m not supposed to do that until the Eve of the Return.”

 

“I’d say your ox is in the mire.”

 

“I have no idea what that means.”

 

“It means that based on the dire circumstances, an exception is in order.”

 

“As in, I’m harpied if I do, and harpied if I don’t?”

 

“Exactly. Always best to go for the truth in these situations.”

 

I drag my hand through my hair and turn toward Daphne. She looks at me expectantly—but not in a good way.

 

I huff out a big sigh. “So … this is going to sound a bit addled.… But … you see …” I look at Dax, hoping he can help me find the right words. He just shrugs. Damned useful guide he turned out to be. “Here’s the thing. I’m not from around here, and I’m not from the East Coast, either. I’m from somewhere much farther away than that. I’m from—”

 

“The underworld,” Daphne says, finishing my admission for me.

 

“Ummm … what? How did you know?”

 

“It was kind of a stab in the dark, but thanks for confirming it.” She taps her fingers on her arms. “Still not sure I believe it, though.”

 

Dax makes a gurgling noise like he’s either choking or laughing. “I told you I liked this girl.”

 

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