Page 28 of How to Claim A Shadow King

Malakai doesn't move a single muscle in his corner, but the temperature in the room instantly plummets by ten degrees. The velvet shadows clustered around his boots begin to lash out like agitated serpents, a dangerous, freezing aura of primordial dark magic suffocating the coven's frantic brainstorming.

"You are planning a multi-level plan that is sure to end your destruction" Malakai rasps, his deep, guttural tone cutting cleanly through their overlapping arguments. He doesn't look at them; his eyes, once again burning embers, remain locked entirely on me. "None of those plans ensure her survival. The planes, and their gates, are tethered to her untrained light and my shadows. You cannot out plan fate."

"I'm tired," I finally announce. It's true. With my stomach full and the danger past, I find myself half asleep on top of my arms. "I can sleep here on the table while you all talk, or I can sleep somewhere else."

"Oh. How rude of me," Caelan says. "Let me, of course, offer you a room at my inn."

"We could go home," Malakai interrupts, glaring at Caelan with something that might be jealously.

I shift on my seat, uncomfortable and out of tea and food to eat to hide it. I pick at my fingernails instead.

"Absolutely not," Wren declares, slamming her palms on the table. "Not until she's decided what she wants." She stands, putting herself between me and the Shadow King. If I didn't already like the witch, this would have sealed the deal, because he's quite a daunting figure, even in his ridiculous ceremonial shadow-wyrm armor.

"What do you want, Aveline?" Malakai finally asks, gritting the words out. It takes me a moment to realize he's asking me, not telling me what I want, but asking. The bar may be in hell, but at least he's walked over it.

"I think I'd like to stay here tonight.” I stifle a yawn. "I'm too tired to go anywhere."

"You need rest." Wren smiles at me, standing immediately. "You can meet the rest of the coven, as many as we can scrounge up, at least, in the morning."

"We'll be going home in the morning," Malakai says. "She must be trained in her magic before she is to be of any use in facing the Fae threat."

Wren turns slowly and gives him a long, disgusted look. "You need to get over yourself."

I blink at her rudeness then burst into laughter. "I do like you," I tell her, surprised at how heavy my limbs already feel.

"They must stay in the same room," Ter squawks, so close I forgot he was even in the room. And then his talons pierce through what's left of the fabric of my dress as I stand wearily to follow Wren.

"What if I don't want to?" I ask Ter.

"Then you won't be safe.” Ter’s wings fan out as he stretches.

I look at Hash, who nods gravely. "The bond is between you and the Elder God," Hash finally says. "You're safest at his side, because you are the weakest link until you learn to control your magic."

"Well, that's settled." Malakai doesn’t seem pleased, though. No, he looks annoyed by the fact everyone agreed that I should stay with him, even though that’s what he wanted in the first place.

Men. Ugh. Disgust curls my lip, and I stand too.

"We'll put out a rug for you to sleep on," Wren tells him sweetly.

Malakai stares at her, clearly disgusted. "I don't need sleep," he says. "I'm not human."

"And you're so delightful in spite of it," Wren says, giving me a sympathetic look.

I snort, surprising myself with the unladylike sound before it turns into real laughter. It feels good after so long—being afraid for so long—to really let that laugh out.

11

MALAKAI

The sound of her laugh all but stops me in my tracks. It echoes down to the very marrow of my bones. Unexpected. Beautiful. Hauntingly familiar. Aveline is everything she ever was, and so much more. And yet, over the course of the day, all I've done is frustrate her more and more.

It's clearer than ever, after listening to her and the other witches discuss what's going to happen, the rest of her coven might despise me. I do not know how to explain myself to them, nor the fact that Aveline and I have been circling each other in this same dance for centuries upon centuries. And yet Aveline knows nothing of that, remembers nothing of our past.

I follow my bride up the stairs of the inn, the tingle of magic thicker here than elsewhere in the city.

"It's a waypoint," Hash announces to me, the Seelie following close behind. "You will have to be careful with her," he adds.

"Do not tell me how to treat my bride.” Anger flares at his impudence, and shadows writhe across the floor.