Page 39 of How to Claim A Shadow King

"We'd be happy to take the horse off your hands.” Malakai’s voice could freeze flame.

The man's wrinkled, leathery face takes on a greedy expression. "You couldn't possibly pay me enough for this horse.” He leers at me, then sizes up Malakai. "I've had this horse for many years. How am I supposed to get my vegetables around without it?"

"Malakai.” I tug on his arm. The man has a look in his eyes I very much don't like.

"How much for the horse, friend?" Malakai says, emphasizing the word friend in a way that isn't friendly at all. Not even a little bit.

"I told you, the old nag's not for sale, there’s no price I’d let you pay. I need this horse in order to make a living for my family. I've got mouths to feed, you see, and not just my own. I'm sure you know what I mean." At that, the old man smiles at me, and the expression in his eyes turns my stomach just as much as the foul smell coming from his mouth does.

"Come on now, let's get up and go, you lazy old beast," the man spits out, and he raises his hand to strike the horse again.

I wince away, not wanting to see him hurt it, preparing myself for the sound of his hand on horse flesh and no doubt the resultant scream from the poor cart horse.

When nothing comes, I open my eyes.

Black shadows boil around Malakai's fingers and ankles, his hand wrapped around the man's wrist. The old man has gone white, and silence has descended over the street as passersby stop to see what's going on.

"You will not strike this horse again."

The man tries to wrench his hand away, anger firing in his eyes, but Malakai holds firm and doesn't even give him an iota of space.

"It's my horse to do what I please with! It's my property!" The man struggles some more, trying to rip his hands away, and the white of fear turns to red as he realizes everyone's watching.

I clear my throat, uneasy, the violence simmering under Malakai's skin and wanting the poor horse to be somewhere safe. I reach my hand into Malakai's pocket, the same one I saw him pull coins from before, but there's nothing more.

"I told you both, the horse isn't for sale."

"Leave," Malakai says. "Take your cart with you. Leave the horse."

"How dare you?" the man says, sneering up at Malakai, puffing out his chest like a rooster trying to make himself look bigger. Except all he's managing to do is make himself look like an idiot. "This horse is my property, and I'll treat it as I wish. I already told you there's no price that would be high enough to entice me. Unless..." He pauses, his gaze cutting to me, and Malakai's fingers tighten even more on my waist. My skin crawls at the man's greedy expression.

"Would you trade me your woman? Surely, she is pretty enough to fetch a good⁠—"

Shadows explode out of Malakai's skin before I can even think of an appropriate response. They wrap up the man's feet and ankles, climbing to his knees, his thighs, wrapping around his hips. The man writhes, outrage turning into pure fear.

"Please, please, I didn't mean it," the man says. "I'll take one piece of gold!"

"It's too late," Malakai roars.

And just like that, the cart and man vanish in a cloud of darkness. When the darkness clears a half heartbeat later, all that's left is a panicked-looking Palomino draft horse under a grimy rope so tight around its neck it's cut through the horse's hide.

Well. I suppose that’s one way to get a horse.

15

MALAKAI

Aveline doesn't speak to me the entire rest of the walk to Longleaf Brews. She does coo with the huge horse, who appears to be going lame from its former owner’s lack of care.

By the time we make it to the tea house, Aveline's silence is beginning to truly bother me.

"You must be Lord Malakai and the Duchess of Stormspire, Aveline." A huge green man surges to his feet just outside the tea house. Lean muscles, no tusks, and green hair.

Not an orc then, something else, something older.

A male dryad, my mind supplies. Fascinating.

"Just Aveline, please," my bride tells him.