8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

T he bed in the palace was the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept in. If I hadn’t been hovering on the edge of overwhelm all night long, I was confident I’d have had the best sleep of my life. As it was, it had been a fitful, rather restless night, and I felt as though I could have stayed in bed for several hours longer.

Tilly disagreed.

She bumped my arm with her nose, snuffling slightly in a clear request to be let out. Tallulah had assured me that the small courtyard outside was completely secure and private, and it felt like such a blessing to be able to just walk a few steps and open the door to let Tilly out somewhere safe.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten my bearings yet at all in this room. There were heavy drapes around the bed, and in disentangling myself from those, I almost immediately knocked my hip against the heavy nightstand as I was climbing out.

“Just a sec, Tilly girl,” I wheezed, clutching my hipbone as pain radiated out. Once it had subsided, I felt for the edges of the nightstand, wincing at how sharp the corners were. Luckily I’d bumped into the side instead, which was slightly less treacherous.

I gingerly took a few steps, nudging the ground with my toe to avoid tripping. There were low stools and cushions on the ground, as well as a coffee table in the center of the room. Off to one side was a small dining table and chairs, and there were other larger bits of furniture against the walls which I presumed were storage.

In truth, it wasn’t the easiest room for me to navigate, but I didn’t want to be rude and ask if I could shuffle things around a little.

Tilly appeared at my side, and I softly held her collar as she guided me around the obstacles and directly to the door.

Clearly, I’d been taking too long for her liking.

“There you go,” I murmured, pushing it open so she could get out. The familiar sound of birdsong from home didn’t greet me, but the air was fresh and cool, and there were definitely sounds of nature even though they weren’t familiar to me.

I wondered what Nana would say if she knew I was here. If she’d be able to forgive me for the choices I’d made, or if she’d treat me with the same shame and revulsion that Moriah had always treated me with.

That was a depressing thought.

I startled as someone knocked on the door, letting themselves in before I had the chance to stumble my way over to it.

“Breakfast,” a feminine voice called. “I have a tray here for you fresh from the kitchens.”

“For me?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes. Prince Damen thought you might find it easiest to have your breakfast delivered here for the time being. Until you learn the layout of the palace.”

“Well, that’s very kind of him. I’ll be sure to thank him. Or perhaps it would be best to send along a message? I doubt I’ll meet him again soon—princes must be very busy.”

Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could have sworn the Shade woman scoffed. To my horror, I realized that I had no idea who I was speaking to. Nana would be appalled at my manners—she’d always drilled into me how I should act if I met someone new even though I’d never gone anywhere.

“What is your name? It was very rude of me not to ask earlier, I’m sorry.”

There was a slight pause. “Hela.”

“Hela,” I repeated firmly to lodge the information in my brain. “Thank you for bringing me breakfast. I’m Iris.”

“I know.”

Right. I supposed there weren’t that many ex-Hunters living in the shadow realm. How odd to go from completely hidden away to relatively famous in a day.

Tilly was apparently in no rush to come back inside, so I slowly made my way back toward the center of the room where the person—or Shade?—seemed to be. There was a soft clattering noise and I guessed they were setting the meal up on the coffee table rather than the dining table. Perhaps that was the way things were done here?

I lowered myself onto my knees on one of the enormous floor cushions, grateful I hadn’t tripped over it, and slowly and carefully inched closer to the table. I could admit, it was quite fun sitting on the floor to eat. I’d never done it before.

“Would it be helpful if I told you what was on the table?”

“Oh, ever so helpful, thank you.” I crossed my legs, finding the edge of the low table with my fingertips.

“The Shade diet consists mostly of meat. May I touch your hand?”

I was surprised she asked. Nana had always just grabbed it and put it where she wanted me to feel. “Yes, of course.”

I startled slightly as the sharpest nails I’d ever felt in my life rested lightly against my skin, guiding my hand over the tray. “Here is the meat. Over on this side is a dense bread thing that the palace cook has been experimenting with to help supplement your diets. Over here is some fruit from your realm.”

“Oh, how lovely. Thank you.”

How very welcoming the Shades were—they were really going out of their way to make us feel comfortable here.

“I’ll pour the tea for you,” Hela said hastily, making quick work of it before guiding my hand to the hot cup. I left it to cool, picking at the meat instead. I hadn’t expected to like it particularly—the way Nana cooked meat meant it was always very dry and chewy—but this was quite delicious. “Do you need anything else?” Hela asked.

“No, not at all. This has been very generous, thank you. I feel quite spoiled.” I wondered if this is how princesses in fairy tales felt. “Really, you don’t need to wait on me. I’d like to pull my own weight and be useful around the place.”

I felt her hesitate next to me. “You’re refreshingly sweet compared to the courtiers I have to deal with, so I will say these words as a kindness and hope you interpret them as such. You are in a palace now. You’re an esteemed guest here, in fact. Meals brought to your room are your due.”

“I don’t want to get used to such a luxurious lifestyle.” Nana would be horrified to see me sitting on my laurels, happily enjoying such a generous portion of food while Tilly romped around outside, as happy as can be. Was this meat safe for her? Perhaps Tallulah or Meera would come back and I could ask them about it. “When will I start working?”

“Working?” There was a shuffling sound of what I assumed was her feet on the bare stone. Did Shades wear shoes? It didn’t sound like it.

“Yes. Contributing.” I tried to think of a polite way to bring it up. “As I understand it, the Hunters who move here contribute to the power supply of Shades…?”

Hela coughed loudly. Perhaps I hadn’t done as good of a job asking politely as I’d hoped. It was just that no one had brought the subject up, and it was making me a little twitchy to not talk about it at all. I’d hoped one of the women would say something yesterday, but they’d both been more concerned with making sure that Tilly and I had all the things we needed from the human realm than discussing work.

“Not all of them. That’s not… there’s no schedule or anything. Certainly, for now, the expectation would be for you to get comfortable here first.”

“I’m glad there’s no rush,” I admitted. Though, I was also extremely curious still. The hint of that sharp nail on my hand had only made me more so.

What did Shades feel like? What kind of things did they like?

“When you came here, did you think you’d be doing that right away?” Hela asked curiously.

“I did. Is that an awful assumption to make? It seems a little crude of me, now I’ve been here a few hours and everyone has been unfailingly polite.”

Hela laughed. I could sense her relaxing next to me, and I hoped she’d feel comfortable speaking freely. “Not quite the ravishment you thought you’d get on arrival? No, I suppose not. Back in the olden days, that’s probably what would have happened by the sounds of it. When you were all the Hunted. King Allerick’s trying to do things differently this time around. Never forget that the power is in your hands. I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”

I didn’t feel particularly powerful as I fumbled my teacup, spilling the hot—but fortunately not burning—liquid over my fingers as I brought the cup to my lips. But then again, the way everyone spoke to me had certainly made me feel important. Even the prince had taken a personal interest in my safety and comfort!

Maybe I really could be valued here rather than a burden. If only I could get a message to Lucas to thank him—he might have changed my life more than either of us realized at the time.

I stacked the dishes back onto the tray as best I could after eating, leaving it sitting on the table and feeling my way back around the room to get to the washroom—which was up three steps and circular in shape.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have any fresh clothes to change into, so I just cleaned myself up as best I could before heading back down to sit in the squishy dining chair for a moment and catch my breath. Tilly flopped down for a nap at my feet as Hela came in to collect the tray, followed by a morning visit with Meera that made me feel more at ease with everything—especially as she assured me she’d source me some more clothes to wear.

I was feeling quite the lady of leisure when another knock on the door came. Like a grand dowager in my elegant home, receiving guests all day the way the old dames did in the shows Nana used to watch.

“Come in!” I called while Tilly let out a snore. She hadn’t seemed the least bit concerned by anyone who’d visited thus far, though I supposed she’d mostly avoided my brothers rather than growled at them. It had never occurred to me before, but Tilly might be a bit of a coward.

I couldn’t judge. I was a bit of a coward too.

“Good morning, Iris. How did you sleep?”

“Is that you, Prince Damen?” I asked tentatively. I certainly hadn’t expected a visit from him.

“It is—call me Damen, please.” He crossed the room in a few steps—how long were his legs?—and took the seat closest to me. His voice was so lovely and friendly that I couldn’t help but feel at ease in his presence.

“I didn’t expect you to visit again,” I said honestly. “You’re a prince. You must be very busy doing important things.”

“I have no trouble making time for you,” he replied smoothly.

“Oh. Okay then.” Was that… Was he flirting with me? Was that what that was? Perhaps he was testing to see if I had the capacity for lust.

Surely, princes had better options.

Damen cleared his throat. “Is there anything I can do that might make your transition to life here more comfortable?”

Now, he sounded exceedingly polite. Perhaps he had been flirting and I’d reciprocated poorly.

Should I flirt?

I didn’t know how to do that. I supposed that I’d never learn unless I tried though.

“Could I touch your hand?”

“You… you want to touch my hand?”

“Yes, please. If that’s okay. Only I don’t know what a Shade looks like, and it might be helpful to feel.” That was a little flirty, wasn’t it? While also being a genuine response to his question—knowing what a Shade felt like would make my transition to life here more comfortable.

“Of course.” Damen moved closer, dragging the chair with him. Tilly huffed at the scrape of the wood on the stone floor. “You might not like what you find, Iris. We don’t feel human.”

He almost sounded worried.

“No, I expected as much,” I assured him, reaching out my hand, palm up. After a long moment, he placed his hand on top of mine, and I gently began exploring.

Five fingers—that was standard. His palm was a little softer, the back of his hand a little bonier—also pretty regular. The texture of his skin was different to mine, though. Warm and smooth and much tougher. More like leather than human skin.

“Careful,” Damen warned as I traced his knuckles. “You’re getting closer to my claws.”

“Claws,” I repeated, pausing. Hela hadn’t just had sharp nails, she’d had claws . That made far more sense.

“Here.” Damen used his free hand to gently clasp my wrist, guiding my movements. There was an odd swooping sensation below my stomach in response to his grip, and I swallowed loudly. “You can touch the top of them. That won’t cut you.”

I hummed appreciatively, noting how long and tapered they were. Smooth, though. Were all Shade hands like this, or did the prince have particularly soft ones from a more restful life?

“Is there anything else about you that’s different from humans?”

Damen made a slightly pained sound. “Maybe a couple of things. Do you, uh, want to feel my face?”

“Would you be okay with that?”

“Not if it was anyone else. But for you, it’s fine.” Was that flirty? Or maybe it was just kindness. Or perhaps it was pity. Actually, that made the most sense. I was blind, and Damen felt sorry for me. “Hold on, I’ll kneel so you can reach.”

I widened my knees a little so he could kneel more comfortably in front of my seat, and up this close, I realized he smelled quite lovely. I couldn’t place my finger on what it was, but it made me think of sunshine. Could someone smell like that?

It was probably inappropriate of me, but I inhaled deeply, trying to take in more of that warm, bright, soothing scent. There was a noise so quiet I thought I must be imagining things, like he’d sucked in air through his teeth.

Damen gently held my wrists, lifting them up until my fingers brushed his jaw, then releasing me to feel around at my leisure. It was very… thoughtful. For some reason, it made my own face feel warm.

Not just my face. The warmth seemed to be traveling down my neck, and if I hadn’t been so absorbed in exploring Damen, I would have touched my chest to see if I could feel the heat there.

Much like his hands, the basics of Damen’s face seemed to be similar. Two eyes. A nose. A mouth. Everything felt much firmer and more angular than my face felt, but the general shape was the same. I smoothed over his brow with my thumbs, finding a sort of ridge but no eyebrows, and I followed it up on both sides, expecting to land at his temples, but instead going up.

And then up some more.

“My horns,” Damen murmured shakily as I followed the swooping curve of them.

“They must be majestic,” I replied, lingering a little longer than I probably needed to purely out of curiosity. They were so thick and sturdy. I had the oddest urge to grab them. “Do you use them when you fight?”

“There are specialized fighting styles in different regions that still utilize the horns, but it’s not very common anymore. Wealthy Shades often decorate their horns by wrapping them in silver chains and obsidian jewels.”

“You’re not wearing any of those,” I observed, tracing my way down the curve. Surely, princes were wealthy?

“I prefer not to. I have a small crown I wear on special occasions,” he added almost sheepishly.

I wanted to feel his hair, so I came down to the base of his horns, wrapping my hands around them gently to get a feel for how thick they were. Damen sucked in a breath, shifting slightly in my grip.

“Sorry,” he rasped. “That’s… sensitive.”

I released him immediately. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, no. It didn’t hurt,” he replied, though his voice sounded a little strained. “You can keep going.”

I avoided his horns carefully this time, running my fingers through his hair. Like his skin, the texture was much thicker and smoother than mine, but I hadn’t touched a lot of humans to compare to.

His ears were pointed at the tips, and I moved on quickly from those because he squirmed a little as though they were ticklish, following down the thick column of his neck to his shoulders.

I definitely wasn’t exploring his face anymore, which was what he’d suggested, and I wasn’t going to go any lower. I just wanted to try get an idea of what kind of clothes he wore by touching the collar of his shirt. Did my clothes look strange compared to his? Currently, I only had the one outfit.

“Where’s your shirt?” I asked, partly to myself, as I danced my fingers along surprisingly broad, hard shoulders. My shoulders certainly didn’t feel like that. Neither had Nana’s, and I was very familiar with them from all the shoulder rubs I’d given her over the years.

“Ah. Right. Shades don’t wear clothes, strictly speaking.”

I snatched my hands back instantly. “You’re naked?”

“No, no. We use shadows as coverings,” he said hastily. “We can manipulate them, make them more solid or less. Here, feel.”

I startled as something soft—far softer than Damen’s skin—brushed over my palm before sliding up and curling around my wrist, settling into place like a bracelet. It seemed to swirl in place for a few seconds before disappearing like it had never been there, and I rubbed the spot absently with my fingers, keenly feeling its loss. What an odd sensation.

“So you’re covered, but it’s not solid the way that fabric is?” I asked, wanting to touch his shoulders again but deciding that was probably a little too bold. I’d been plenty bold already.

Damen cleared his throat. “Yes. Um, you can feel, you know. My chest, if you like. You should be able to feel the faint brush of the shadows as you put your hand through them.”

I knew I was taking liberties. Nana had always said how important it was that I keep my hands to myself, even though they were my way of understanding the world. But he had offered.

And I was trying to flirt. Sort of. I still doubted that a prince had any real interest in me, but I wanted him to know that I was perfectly capable of experiencing lust.

The shadow covering did faintly tickle my skin as I pressed my hand to his chest, but that wasn’t the part I was most interested in feeling.

Damen’s chest didn’t feel anything like my chest. My chest was squishy.

Damen’s chest felt like a solid slab of carved stone. There were dips and divots and lines that I was desperate to trace while being acutely aware that going lower was a very bad idea.

I wasn’t entirely ignorant—Nana had given me the birds and the bees talk in the most thoroughly off-putting way possible with a lot of emphasis on abstinence—but I’d never touched this much of a man, or a male Shade, in person.

It was better than I expected. My brain was still sensible enough to stop me from being entirely inappropriate, but it was forming some creative what-if scenarios to compensate.

What if my hand went a little lower?

What if his hands landed on my waist? My hips? My thighs?

What if those claws dug into my skin? What would that feel like? Would I like it?

My daydream was interrupted by Damen’s sudden sharp intake of air and the feeling of his horn tangling in my hair as he leaned in closer.

Was he… smelling me?

“Iris,” he said, sounding almost pained, carefully disentangling himself from my hair while I folded my hands safely back in my lap. “I should go. I’m not allowed to… Never mind, I should go. Are you going to be okay? I’ll come back tomorrow.”

He muttered something I didn’t quite catch about a month. Perhaps he intended to visit for the rest of the month?

“Of course. Yes.”

He tripped over something in his rush to get out of the room, and I was left with a swirling mess of confusing thoughts. Had I scared him off? I had been very enthusiastic in touching him. Hopefully not too enthusiastic, though I really did want to know what he felt like. And I’d wanted him to know that I wasn’t afraid of physical affection.

I found myself touching my own hair and face, my fingers drifting down to my collarbone, comparing the differences between our bodies in my mind.

Damen probably wasn’t afraid. He was probably just busy doing princely things and couldn’t linger—he’d said he’d come back tomorrow, after all.

Perhaps we’d have the chance to do that again.