Prince of Blood and Shadow
I. Chapter 2

The homecoming was exactly what he expected. Guards grabbed him and began dragging him across the stone floor to his uncle’s throne room. “I have legs, you know, perfectly capable of using them.” One carried the fox by the scruff of the neck as he tried biting at their hands. “Don’t hurt him if you value your life.” Inias threatened the guards practically carrying him through the winding hallways of Castle Nightfang. “Is your intent to kill us all, your majesty?” Inias would have ripped the man to pieces if those words hadn’t stung so much. They brought him right back to the grave he’d visited earlier.

Inias knew the place better than anyone, all its secret and clever little hiding places. He’d spent much of his free time exploring every corner and hidden door he could replace. That was how he’d found his uncle’s stash of liquor hidden away deep in the caverns. If they took Styx away from him, he was sure he could hide him. Torches littered every hall, providing minimal warmth. They passed a hall of heroes; the hall leading into the throne room. Paintings hung from the walls of famous heroes. One held a bow proudly in his hand as he stood over two dragons, another stood with his sword held high and a massive army at his back.

Both paintings depicted Onas Nightfang, the first true king of Nightfang Hallow, wearing the same crown that he wore. Nightfangs arrived from afar, journeying through the wilds to settle in Harrowsvale. Onas had been the first Fae among the shadow clans to build a kingdom. He drove the elves back to their valley and spent much of his reign putting down rebellion after rebellion. It was the man sculpted by the window who had finally secured the shadow clan’s rule in the Hallow. Vitriel Nightfang, who had repaired relations with merchant clans to the north and elves to the east. Inias always wondered about his rule, but now all he saw was disaster.

Inias dreaded seeing all those angry eyes again. It wasn’t like when he cast an ice spell over the temple floors and made the priests slip. He ignored orders, chasing his own glory. People lost their lives and blood was spilled. Some were left without a son or husband due to his actions. This was much worse than all the hilarious pranks he had played on the visiting nobility and the times he’d bullied the lesser boys. He had progressed through his training more quickly than the others his age, now sixteen, and his prowess eclipsed even some of the veteran knights. Inias had never let the others forget his status, and he knew they resented him for it. Now that resentment had boiled into raw hatred thrown at him. It was only now, after the tragedy, he realized just how poorly he had treated everyone.

The large wooden doors opened and there was his uncle conversing with Lord Aubron, “Give the boy some time to grieve,” Inias overheard Lord Aubron, his uncle’s hand, whisper to the king. Despite his age, Ivaran still had full, curly black hair on his head with his pointed ears peeking out. Scars and wrinkles showed his age. Four centuries ruling would do that. His elegant black robes covered the massive frame beneath and tied with a belt that held his sword, much larger than the slim blade Inias carried. Ivaran was a large man known to use his strength to overwhelm an enemy. Inias relied on his thin stature and speed, so his blade was the lighter of the two, but no less deadly.

Moonlight spilled into the room so brightly it outshined all the candles and revealed every glaring face pinned on him. The atmosphere did little to calm his racing heart. The wolves carved out of onyx stones with two thrones between them atop the onyx dais had snarls on their faces and seemed ready to snap their teeth. Their eyes were red and full of fire. An empty chair sat beside his uncle’s once housing Inias’ Aunt, the Queen, who had passed when Inias was only a child. His wife and now Inias had taken his brother away.

The king’s gaze lingered on the fox who stood beside Inias and sighed. “Made a friend?” Ivaran’s words had a way of chilling the room whenever he spoke. Inias could not meet those icy eyes as he rose from his bow. For all his shenanigans meant for his father’s attention, Inias had never wished to stir Ivaran’s wrath. His voice alone sent shivers down his spine that caused his back to straighten. He swore it was some sort of magic the king used to petrify his subjects. “His name is Styx. I believe he’s a lost familiar.” He spoke as bravely as he could, glad his voice had not squeaked like their last meeting.

Styx howled towards the king and lowered his head. “Clever beast,” The smile upon the king’s lips faded as he looked back to Inias, “How fitting that you’ve chosen a fox as your companion,” Ivaran said, tapping his ring against arm rest of his massive throne. “A cunning trickster to lead us all into ruin!” His voice rose as he stood towering over the crowded throne room from atop the dais. “And what of the guards we discovered unconscious in the stables?!” His voice roared over the murmuring crowd, which seemed to hush themselves as they waited for the young prince’s answer. “I wished to mourn alone, uncle. It’s been a week since-.”

“Mourning, yes, you’re the catalyst for all the mourning in these halls!” Amidst the murmuring voices calling for justice, he longed for a chance to speak. What could he say to console those mourning their own losses after the attack? “I never meant to get them killed…I’m sorry.”

“You hear that? He’s sorry,” Ivaran addressed the crowd with a roll of his gleaming silver eyes. “Isn’t he always?” Another voice spoke from within the crowd. Inias had stood among those judging glares before, but he had never caused so much loss, nor had he wished to. They’d lost his father, a beloved prince and warrior. Three knights had fallen and one of their grandmothers was casting him a vicious glare.

The king gripped the armrest, slowly easing himself back onto his throne. Years of battle left the king with aching limbs, yet it did not diminish his threatening presence. With a wave of his hand, Ivaran could have his nephew gasping for breath. “Your prowess in battle has made you arrogant. You are undisciplined, impulsive, and now you’ve brought a wild animal into my home!” Styx growled as the king’s tone grew thick with anger, “I want it thrown out! Guards!”

“He’s not a wild animal!” Inias roared right back, nails extending into hooked claws as a pair of guards approached the fox. Once they saw the claws and heard Styx’s warning growl, they hesitated. “I’m the one you’re angry with, not him!” Styx was innocent and didn’t deserve his uncle’s wrath. “Don’t raise your voice to me, boy!” Ivaran shouted, causing the room to shudder. “I will have you and the fox boil-.”

“Your majesty!” A voice called out; Lord Aubron stepped forward with a hand extended towards Inias before he could charge the dais. The prince had a hand on his slim blade, ready to defend his friend. Aubron’s chestnut eyes were gentle and as Inias caught them, his tension soothed. With a sigh, he stepped back and apologized for the outburst.

“Perhaps the fox-.” Styx barked a protest at the man. “Apologies…Styx could teach the young prince responsibility. He has lost his father and Styx has lost his master; they make a good pair don’t you think? Animals have aided in the grieving process. A man from Dusk Haven told me a story about a sweet little otter who-.”

Ivaran waved a careless hand at the man to shut him up, “Whatever!” Aubron bowed and moved to stand behind the king. The hand did his job well, which usually meant keeping the king’s anger in check. Within the court he’d been gentler towards Inias. “He may keep the animal.” No one in the room wanted to hear another rambling speech from the king’s hand, especially the king, who fell silent as he watched the pair.

The wood crackling in the sacred fireplace against the right wall filled the silence. Inias wasn’t sure what to expect, only thankful Ivaran had allowed him to keep Styx, who padded towards the fireplace, laying by its warmth. “The high council will decide your fate,” Ivaran finally spoke as he watched the fox walk across his throne room. “You will have three days to grieve and reflect upon your actions. Monday morning, I expect you here by nine o’clock.” Inias heaved a sigh of relief and stepped back with a bow. “Th-thank you, uncle.” He stammered, inching desperately towards the door. “As for the fox. He is your responsibility and is not to leave your chambers without you. Is that clear?”

Styx yipped his approval as he ran across the throne room floor to join Inias. “Yes, Uncle, I will train him well.” He felt the hard oak of the door pressed to his back and the guard glaring at him. “May I?” He asked to which the man rolled his eyes and allowed Inias to leave.

He walked from the throne room to his own in silence. Inias cast his eyes onto the knots painted across the hallway floors. The presence of two massive brutes walking behind him did not help ease his mood. Styx watched them with suspicion, having sensed the unease Inias felt having them around. The guards opened his bedroom door and shoved the little prince inside. “May I interest you in some tea?” Inias asked before the door was slammed in his face. The clicking of a lock sounded as he wandered towards the bed. Styx had already taken the center, waiting for Inias to join him.

“You’re gonna be a handful, aren’t you?” Inias asked him as he crossed the purple carpeting on his floor. Opposite the door, the fireplace sat within a black wolf’s mouth, teeth bared towards him. “It could have been worse,” Inias called out from the bathroom as he changed into soft cotton sleeping trousers. He stared at himself in the mirror. Tears still stained his ruby red eyes. He formed a cup shape with his hands, filling them in the black marble sink with the red faucet and splashing the chilly water over his face. “Got to keep you! That’s a win…”

Inias returned from the bathroom and crossed the floor to slip beneath the thick black sheets. Styx’s chin rested up on the pillow beside his head, turning his gaze to watch Inias. “Thank you for coming…” Inias whispered, leaning his over to bury his face in the soft raven black fur. Tears spilled down his cheeks as a paw came to rest on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure when, but eventually those tears would put him to sleep.