The Shadow Heir: A Standalone Fantasy Romance (Secrets of the Fae), page 1
Hill City Press
This is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, or real places are purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by C. F. E. Black
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Sara Lawson.
Cover and jacket design by MiblArt.
Hardback cover art by Damian V.
Interior art by Janelle Hovde.
To the ones who feel broken.
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Contents
Fullpage image
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Epilogue
Also by
About the author
Acknowledgements
1
Zara
Ihad only seconds to reach the ground before the night guard returned, but my ruffled skirt snagged as I swung my legs over the balcony’s stone railing. Timing my descent with quiet breaths, I held my weight in my arms and lowered myself down.
One.
A small ripping sound rent the quiet night, stealing another second as my attention stalled.
Two. No time to waste. I felt with my toes for the trellis anchored to the whitewashed walls.
Three. Ignoring the way the leaves tickled my ankles, I released one hand from the railing.
Four. I released the other hand.
Five.
Only twelve seconds before the guard reappeared. With a racing heart and careful movements, I slipped down to the grass below my bedroom window.
In my haste, I’d knocked a pair of passionflower blooms to the ground. I snatched up the fragrant blossoms and took off toward the wall of boxwoods marking the inner garden on the west side of my family’s estate.
On a good day, running flat out across the grass from the house to the privacy of the inner garden on my short legs took nine seconds. But tonight, I also wore flamenco shoes and a tight dress.
Holding up my dress, I pumped my legs so hard that a quiet scream tore from my lips as my muscles burned.
I darted through the opening between the boxwoods and heaved in gasps of air as quietly as I could, tiptoeing around the burbling fountain in the safety of the shadows while holding back the laughter that threatened to spew from my lips. The moon was out as well as a host of stars, but the darkness seemed thicker tonight, as if it welcomed me.
A flicker of fear sent gooseflesh down my arms as I scanned the deep shadows of the garden. Memories of stories recounting the many beasts that prowled the worlds at night flashed through my mind. I’d always considered the tales nothing more than entertainment, until one month ago, when I’d seen the Wild Hunt with my own eyes outside of Puerta de los Reyes as I sped there on horseback beside my best friend, Talia. That night had changed everything for me. That night, the Wild Hunt had stolen a woman, and Talia had disappeared into the fae lands, and I’d been forced to admit that my father’s warnings about a bargain he’d made many years ago with what he simply called la sombra—the shadow—might not actually be lies meant to scare me into good behavior.
Stolen. Disappeared. Bargain. The words rang in my ears as I picked my way around the happy, oblivious fountain. My heart was bursting from my sprint, and a wave of lightheadedness swept over me. I bent to brace my hands on the fountain’s edge, breathing heavily.
Dull bronze coins glinted in the water, coins I’d tossed in every year—on my birthday, on every holiday, on my father’s birthday, and during the harvest festivals, where otherworldly creatures were said to be present among us in greater numbers. I’d hoped my father’s words about his bargain with the shadows was a ruse, but deep down, I’d feared it was true. These coins were proof. But with each coin tossed in, each hopeless prayer offered to whatever deity listened to humans, not once had anything happened. Not once had my father come to me and told me the bargain was broken, that his foolish mistake was remedied, that I wouldn’t have to leave my home on my twentieth birthday because of a magical deal he’d made long ago.
In a matter of hours, I would complete my twentieth year. Tonight was my last chance—one more night to break the curse he didn’t seem able to break. It was a half hour to midnight, which meant I had less than one hour until I learned whether my father’s bargain was, in fact, real.
I stood straight and inhaled deeply. I had enough time. I was so close to breaking the terms of my father’s bargain, to no longer being maldita—cursed.
The man I loved would break the curse. He would end this tonight.
Because in all the fae stories, all the fantastical tales of los malditos, true love always broke the curse. And I’d found it.
I just needed to tell him. To know my love was returned.
With renewed excitement, I hurried toward the back of the garden to a pale brick wall that marked the edge of my father’s property.
The flowers I’d grabbed now wilted in the sweat at my neckline, where I’d stuffed the blooms. Ignacio, the stone-faced guard who paraded the west side of the estate at night, had a way of knowing when I wasn’t in my room, no matter how flawless my escape. He might have counted the flowers before his patrol this evening, but I couldn’t be certain. He never seemed to miss anything, and my father had been quite clear about what would happen if I got caught without a chaperone one more time. I’d have to marry one of the rich boys he approved of, and at my birthday celebration, no less. The party could easily double as my wedding celebration.
But I wouldn’t be marrying one of the stuffy gentlemen’s heirs. I’d be marrying Jorge, and my father wouldn’t be able to say no when he learned that love broke the curse he created.
As I neared the edge of my father’s property, a man emerged from the shadowy forest and hopped over the wall, arms extended.
With a quiet gasp, I sailed into his open arms, wrapping myself in Jorge’s warm embrace. We tipped backward against the wall, and for a moment we laughed as we tried to untangle ourselves.
When we regained our balance, his fingers pushed a stray curl from my face. “Señorita,” he said, voice low.
His dark eyes carried a seriousness in them tonight, a hunger that made my belly flip over inside me. He brought his lips down to mine, and for a moment, I thought the world was for no one but him and me.
A moment later, I traced my thumb over his mustache. “This is new.”
He pulled my wrist to his lips and kissed it. “Do you like it?”
I pulled my arm down and smiled. “No.”
His eyes widened, but he pulled me into another kiss. “Now do you like it?”
I placed my hands against his chest, and I could feel his heart beating madly. My own heart rate soared. “You’ll always be handsome to me,” I replied, ready to move to the road and head into town. His affection had grown rather insatiable in the few weeks we’d known each other, and my mind prickled with uncertainty, recalling past mistakes, but my heart urged me onward. Love was meant to be ravenous, unstoppable—who was I to question it when I’d finally found it?
My heart hammered in my chest as I waited for him to take my outstretched hand. Jorge was different than all the other boys. In him, I’d found a love that would surmount all obstacles. A love that would break the curse that bound my life to the darkness.
Twenty years ago, my father had made a rash decision. That decision had shaped every day of my life from the moment I was born. My father and mother had wanted a child, desperately. To stop my mother’s grief, my father had sought out the supernatural—a man he only ever called Oscuro, a creature with incredible power who appeared to be comprised of night itself, like his name implied. La oscuridad, the darkness. He’d promised my father a child, but my father hadn’t been sensible enough to ask what the cost would be. He’d accepted Oscuro’s terms without question, so pleased to finally be able to tell his wife the news that they would conceive.
<
Jorge’s fingers entwined with mine, and I snapped out of my fearful reverie. I let out a long, quiet breath as I calmed my racing heart, trusting that my curse would be broken when Jorge declared his love. Even my father believed love was the answer, as he’d threatened repeatedly to force me to marry on my twentieth birthday if I didn’t find love on my own before then.
Jorge and I walked hand in hand toward a waiting carriage. The best parties in Leor didn’t start until midnight, after the restaurants finally closed their doors and most of the late-night dinner goers finally went home. We’d be right on time if we left now. Jorge had promised to bring his sister and her husband, both who were eager to meet me. Before we climbed inside the carriage and lost our moment of privacy together, I pulled on his arm and he swung around toward me, looping his other arm behind my back.
I tugged his head down so I could whisper in his ear. “Tomorrow is my birthday. I’d like you to meet my father.”
Jorge pulled back a little, his arms still around my waist. “You think so?”
A little surprised by his response, I nodded. “I love you.”
His lips broke into a smile as they pressed against mine. “You love me?” His hands began to roam, his touch becoming stronger, harsher.
“Yes, but—”
He angled his face down and went for my neck, but I shoved my hand against his forehead, pressing him back.
“What now, mi corazón?” he cooed, trying again. My palm barricaded him as I recalled other men who’d attempted to win my inheritance with false affection. One other, in particular, who'd left me with memories I'd tried to blot out. But Jorge wasn’t like the others. He pulled my hand aside, and for a moment, I was nearly lost to the feeling of being so desired.
“Do you love me?” I asked, smiling as I waited for his reply.
He stood straight and locked eyes with me. “I want to be with you.”
A note of happiness burst from my mouth, but it was cut short. “You didn’t answer my question.” Everything hinged on his response.
He backed away, a pinch forming between his dark brows. “Zara, you know how I feel about you.”
“How, exactly, do you feel?” I propped my hands on my hips.
Jorge shook his head. He looked handsome in his suit, even though it wasn’t half as nice as those worn by the noblemen at my father’s parties. I’d never cared that his clothes weren’t as fine or his carriage as grand.
“I…I want,” he stammered, running a hand over his short hair. Then he swallowed, as if rallying himself. “Of course I love you. I’d be a fool not to admit it. Come on, Zara.” He grabbed my waist and tugged me toward him.
Heat flared up in my palms and a sinking chill gnawed at my stomach. His confession fell flat, perhaps because of the way he cracked every knuckle in his fidgeting left hand as he stared down at me with hooded eyes. A flash of fear surged in my gut at his look. Two years ago, I’d learned the hard way that some men wanted something other than money, and it had nothing to do with love. I’d been young and uncertain and I’d believed his every word, and it had only left me aching and empty and alone when he’d vanished the next day.
But not Jorge. He was different. He was…
When he tried to kiss me again, I turned aside. Sweat bloomed up my torso as memories jarred my mind. His hands trapped my hips in a strong grip.
“Please stop,” I said as evenly as I could, but my heart was beating between my ears, and I couldn’t think straight. I glanced at the carriage. There were people inside. His own sister that I’d never met. We weren’t alone. Yet the carriage was awfully quiet.
“I’d like to meet your sister,” I said, ignoring the panic rising inside me. Jorge was probably only edgy after his admission, right? Love wasn’t a word one tossed around lightly. He was likely as nervous as I was.
An almost imperceptible chuckle left his lips, and I froze. “My sister,” he said, his forehead tilting down to rest on my exposed shoulder. “You can meet her in town.”
“You said you’d bring her with you.” I ducked out from under him as playfully as I could with all my nerves in knots. I couldn’t be wrong about him. I couldn’t be that wrong.
“Afraid of a little alone time? If you love me, show me.”
My mouth fell open in a silent scoff, my body’s alarm bells ringing at full capacity now. “Jorge, I…Please…I don’t…” I couldn’t form a complete sentence. I had been wrong. So wrong.
Deep in my chest, a sharp ache prickled like I’d been stabbed. I backed away from him.
“Zara,” he said, coming closer. I could no longer deny the look in his eyes. I’d seen it plenty of times before, but out here, we were entirely alone. The carriage driver was likely expressly told not to interfere with anything happening inside the carriage. I had to run.
“Don’t look so scared,” he teased. “I heard you were fun.”
“What?” I shouted, voice cracking.
“You have a reputation, you know. All the other men you’ve left behind said it was worth it.”
My jaw couldn’t open any wider, and my rage couldn’t boil any hotter. “They what?” I couldn’t believe this, couldn’t wrap my head around the lies, around what my reputation must be to him. Then it hit me. All of this—all of the persona he’d portrayed—was simply a ploy to get me alone, because he believed a pack of lies crafted by men with wounded egos. I pressed both palms to my forehead, smearing away the sweat beading there and feeling a growing urge to vomit. I backed away quickly.
“There you go,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You enjoy tossing out men like the food left on your plate, don’t you?”
My stomach dropped to the ground, and I hunched forward, dumbstruck.
“They warned me you’d run. I only assumed it would be after.” He half-turned aside, his hands again going to his hair.
At those repulsive words, I bent down and yanked the dagger from its sheath at my calf. I’d taken to wearing it everywhere after witnessing the Wild Hunt mere weeks ago.
The blade glinted in the moonlight as I held it at arm’s length, pointed toward Jorge, my heart in little dusty pieces at my feet.
“Leave me alone,” I warned.
Love was supposed to be powerful. It was supposed to break class barriers and expectations and curses. But all it had done for me was ensnare me. I swallowed and stood straighter, harnessing my emotions before they spiraled away with the breeze.
Jorge chuckled dryly. “I thought you wanted me to meet your father. I thought you loved me, Zara.”
An angry huff escaped my lips. “That’s what you call love?” I said, eyeing the carriage with a shiver of unease. To think that’s why he’d courted me. I lifted the knife a little higher, trying to steady my shaking arm. Grateful my father had insisted on putting me through weapons training, I wouldn’t let all those years of training fail me now, despite feeling like I was cracking at the edges.
Jorge lifted his hands, palms out. “Cálmate. I’m leaving.”
That command—calm down—smashed any remaining bit of tenderness I felt toward Jorge into the dirt at my feet. My stepmother, since she’d arrived five years ago, had used that command more times than I could count, whenever my emotions rose to a level that made her uncomfortable. The words always had the opposite effect, though, and my breaths came faster through my clenched teeth as I glared at the man I’d hoped to marry, the man I’d dreamed would set me free from my father’s bargain.
And with that, he spun toward the carriage. Before the door closed, he spat one word over his shoulder, “Maldita.”
My chest cracked from the inside. He couldn’t possibly know. My father had been diligent in his efforts to contain the fact that I was a gift from some magical being. No one would have done business with my father—bought his wine or invested in his vineyards or his ships—if they’d known that. Magic was for stories, not for noblemen.
But what if the truth had leaked out somehow? Was that why each of the men had left me?
As the carriage rolled away, I stood still, heaving quick breaths, a tear tickling down each of my cheeks.
“Stars,” I hissed between clenched teeth as I slipped the knife back in its sheath at my calf. I grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it across the road into the trees, where it made no sound at all as it was swallowed by the night. I tilted my head up and stared at the starry sky. “What now? Aren’t you supposed to have some sort of power?” My father had never taught me to pray to anyone, although he cursed the stars often enough that I assumed they held some sway. But if they did, the stars didn’t like me very much. They sent me too many failed loves. Too much heartbreak. And a life that was over before it really had time to start.
