Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
I could live this dream in the Nightmare Realm.
I could have my prince in Tristan.
I could live forever in a reality where it’s socially acceptable for me to wear outfits as amazing as the one I’m currently wearing.
“And you deserve me.”
“Because I also deserve the best?” Tristan grins and wraps his arms around my waist.
We’ll never get to the ball at this pace, but it’s hard to push him away when I know that we will need to act appropriately when we get to the music, and buffet, and so, so many elves he will introduce me to.
I chuckle, my lips pressing to his in a chaste kiss. And then I pull away, watching him from up close while our breaths mingle between us. This feels good. Is it such a crime that I still want him? I know there’s plenty of people in this realm who get married to other elves, and I don’t need to be Tristan’s Dark Companion for us to share our life.
The budding relationship feels like a gamble, but… the worst has already happened, so what am I risking, really?
A lifetime in his dungeon, tortured, in a world where you will never die of old age, my anxiety-ridden mind suggests, but I dismiss it. I can’t live like this. I can’t expect every shadow-wielding elf to be a murderous psychopath.
“Let’s go before Sabine sends a search party after you.”
Tristan grabs my hand and we walk down the corridor leading out to the garden. “You just want to try the food. Sadly, a lot of it isn’t vegan, but I’ve made sure at least some of the dishes are, and I know which ones.”
He is adorable, charming, and the fact that he can also be a bit silly at times only puts me more at ease. Tristan isn’t an evil mastermind scheming to entrap me. He would have had to be an insanely talented actor to keep that up, and for what? My puny shadow? He wouldn’t have fought tooth and nail for a shadow like mine. So I’m left to believe that he just actually likes me so much.
“I like how you now remember the right word,” I chuckle, and while my body stiffens when the door opens into the gardens, I ignore the first wave of anxiety by keeping my gaze focused on his handsome face.
But then people whisper, and I squeeze Tristan as he leads me down the steps, and then past the group of elven ladies who’ve gathered outside of the bubble tents for a private conversation. Each of them looks like a million dol—nah, not dollars. They look like chestfuls of golden ducats in outfits of fine silks, jacquard, and velvet. Their style is both winter-themed, and on the gothic side. One has a coat with a fur hood, which is covered in tiny diamond spiders to go with her white tarantula-looking headdress.
And still, the clothing Tristan had prepared for me ‘just in case’ appears even more refined, even more expensive, as if he wanted to inform everyone there’s nothing and no one he values more than me.
We’re instantly followed by many gazes, and I have to squeeze Tristan’s hand harder. I don’t think I realized how sheltered I’ve been in the past months. I’ve not been in a crowd since pretty much last Halloween. My heart is behaving as if I’m surrounded by threats, and only Tristan’s presence is stopping me from suffering a panic attack.
When a servant with a silver tray offers me a glass of cherin, I can’t say no. I need the liquid courage to survive this day.
And yet, I want to be here. I want to experience this grand, love-themed winter ball in the gardens of a magnificent castle, all at the side of a prince who proudly calls me his—
“Is that your promised, Tristan?” a woman in what I’d call a man’s outfit asks as she approaches. Her lips are painted black, and her hair is almost as white as the snow on the bushes.
“He is indeed,” Tristan says with a proud smile. “Nate, this is Magister Galenne. She’s a shadow wielder who came all the way from Espare to study at the Nocturne Court.”
The floor under my feet suddenly feels cold and slippery as ice. My gaze darts to Tristan’s face as I fight off the panic buzzing inside my chest.
She bows her head. “I thought I noticed the thread. You must be excited for the upcoming full moon,” she says joyfully, and I swallow, trying to calm down.
That is fair. We might be planning to sever the connection, but the thread still binds our shadows, and it be strange to deny it when so many people around us can see it as clearly as I see the glass in my hand.
The conversation continues for another few minutes, and I’m starting to feel cold when Tristan finally cuts it off and puts his arm over my shoulders. “My apologies, but we need to greet the Lord and his Dark Companion.”