Page 6 of How to Claim A Shadow King

“Why would I?” Another strange, predatory head tilt.

I don’t think Malakai is human.

I don’t know what he is at all. “You speak as if you’re not human,” I try. I’m not sure all my etiquette and conversational tutors prepared me for this. Not that I really listened to them, anyway.

“I’m not human. Neither are you, not really.”

I stare at him right back. Part of me is certain I should be scared, that all of this will end badly, but… well, curiosity has always gotten me into trouble.

“What am I, then?”

“You are my little witch queen, Aveline.” He says my name like a prayer, and my breath catches.

He holds out a long, elegant hand. Shadows curl around his fingers, and I look from his palm to his eyes and back again.

“Would you rather be carried? I seem to remember that was a custom.”

“Carried?” I repeat, beyond confused. “Witch queen?”

He just stares at me. It would be impudent from anyone else.

From him? It’s unsettling, but he seems genuinely… curious.

“What are you?” I ask, staring right back.

“Your mate.”

With that, he twirls his hands, and shadows—shadows!—twist around me, floating me into his arms.

“I can walk,” I squeak. His mate? Witch queen?

“No, I think you might faint after all.” He doesn’t put me down, just steadily trots on, closer to the ruined stones all around us. The thick, green boughs weave a dark, claustrophobic canopy overhead. They block out all light, the air soaked in a heavy gloom.

I should try to get away, probably.

Except, a little voice says, I volunteered for this. Because it felt right.

I suck in a breath as a strange sensation tugs at my skin, an icy prickling the likes of which I’ve never felt.

“There,” Malakai says, a note of triumph in the word. “Welcome to Shadow Keep, Aveline of the Day. Your castle.”

“My castle—” I cut the question off abruptly as my eyes go round.

The ruins aren’t there anymore. Where once was an idea of a wall, mangled by time and the forest, a castle rises from the ground, larger and lovelier than any I’ve ever seen. The heavy double doors creak open as Malakai carries me closer, his grip on me tight as can be. The rich, enveloping scent of old parchment, dried lavender, and crackling woodsmoke replaces the sharp rot of the woods.

Finally, he sets me down, and I just stare. “This isn’t possible.”

“Then what is it?” he asks.

Now that we’re inside, he’s staring at me hungrily. We’ve stepped straight into an impossibly grand, high-ceilinged foyer that feels shockingly alive, the thick indoor air immediately wrapping around my shivering frame like a heavy blanket.

Shifting my weight, I wring my hands. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I expect you don’t, Aveline. Shall we mate now?”

I blink. “I beg your pardon?”

I’ve been propositioned before, but never in so few words. There’s no doubt in my mind that this being, this Malakai—I’m supposed to be here with him.It’s the only explanation for why my stepfather never foisted me off into a political marriage for Stormspire. All this time, he meant me for Malakai.