Page 42 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

Once we finally reach our borrowed bedroom, Vannaria pulls away from me and whispers, “Lay down on the bed. I’m going to change into something a bit more comfortable and then I’ll give you your promised massage.”

Rolling my eyes, I start unbuckling her armor for her. “Vannaria, don’t be a fool. I’m not going to let you give me a massage, when you’re the one who needs comforting.”

She allows me to remove her worn leather breastplate, then grabs my hands. “Mariane, please. I need to tell you something and I’d greatly prefer to do so with your body beneath me.” Despite the fact her words would seem flirtatious in any other situation, the pleading look in her eyes is anything but lustful.

I nod. “Alright.”

Letting go of my hands, she sighs and takes another step back from me. “At least go sit down. I can manage the rest.”

With a small sigh of my own, I step past Vannaria and lay down on the bed as she requested. Sensing her desire for a bit of privacy while she changes, I roll over so I’m facing the wall as well.

After a few moments of listening to the sound of fabric rustling, I feel the bed dip behind me. Gentle fingers trail up my spine as Vannaria whispers, “May I take this off? I–”

“Yes,” I breathe, already in the process of sitting up.

With a faint huff of laughter, she carefully lifts my shirt over my head. When the cool air hits my skin, I shiver.

“I’m sorry. If you’re cold I can–”

I quickly shake my head. “I’m alright.”

“Very well.” She takes a shaky breath. “You may lay back down now.”

I nod, fighting back a gasp when my stiff nipples brush against the smooth fabric of the sheets.

Vannaria brushes my hair to the side so that it drapes over my shoulder, leaving my back entirely exposed. “If at any time you’d like your shirt back, feel free to say so. I must warn you, many of the things I need to tell you may not be easy to hear.”

Hearing the obvious trepidation in the woman’s tone makes my heart ache for her all over again. Gently placing a hand on her knee, I say, “That’s alright, it’s obviously important. And… I promise, no matter what it is, I’ll still be here for you afterwards.” I give her knee a quick squeeze. “And before you bother asking, yes, you may straddle me.”

She places her own hand atop mine for a moment before guiding my arm back above my head and swinging her leg over me, her strong thighs resting on the backs of mine. I have to bury my face into the pillow beneath my head to stifle a groan. My mind is fully aware that this is not the time to become aroused, yet my body seems to disagree. Feeling her weight atop me brings a vivid reminder of what occurred between us earlier today. As well as a strange sense of comfort.

As soon as her hands begin gently kneading the back of my neck, I accidentally let out a quiet moan, my eyes slipping closed as I all but melt into the mattress beneath me.

“What do you know about the Fall of Amzarath?” Vannaria asks, now working on the tight knots between my shoulderblades.

I consider the unexpected question for a moment, then say, “Not a lot if I’m to be honest. My mother talked about it on occasion in my youth, but I never was told any of the details.” I scowl, a hint of venom slipping into my voice. “When I was living with my father in Cyrel, I found out he had an important role in it, however. The secret alliance he’d made with the king was how he became the Marquess.”

Her hands fall still as she inhales sharply. “You knew.”

“Knew what?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at her with a frown.

A pained look crosses her face before she reaches out to gently turn my head so I’m facing the wall in front of me again. I swallow down a huff of annoyance. Apparently this conversation doesn’t allow for eye contact. Or perhaps she simply doesn’t wish for me to see the tears I saw welling up in her eyes.

“Mariane, I…” She clears her throat. Twice. “We…” Trembling hands resume kneading my shoulders. “Vannaria was not the name I was given at my birth.”

My brows furrow, confused about how that fact is relevant to the conversation at hand. “I had a feeling that was most likely the case. Most Fragmented Souls I know about have many names they go by. Very few choose to continue using their birth name after the fragmentation occurs. Or so I’ve heard”

“I, we, didn’t know that,” she mutters, exhaling heavily. “While we did all select new names after our fragmentation, there’s another reason none of us use our true name.”

“And why is that?” I ask, after a few seconds of tense silence.

Vannaria takes a shaky breath, then whispers, “My, our, true name is Vaniaren Zarathi.”

I let out a strangled gasp, my breathing immediately turning ragged. “The Shadow Prince.” Swallowing down a wave of emotions, fear being the most prevalent, I wheeze, “Do you mean to tell me you’re the heir to the Kingdom of Amzarath?”

“I believe the correct term would be heir to the Ruins of Amzarath.”

Flinching at the coldness of her tone, I attempt to turn over, to face her. But her thighs grip mine tighter and the hands on my shoulders press me down further into the mattress. Panic begins to bubble up in my chest, the position I’m currently in suddenly feeling far too familiar and causing a quiet whimper to escape my lips before I can force it down.