Prince of Blood and Shadow
I. Chapter 3

The training yard was full of energy as older soldiers drilled young recruits. Men and women were training side by side, a recent development in their army. Inias sat at his uncle’s right hand, on the edge of the garden patio. Styx was laying by Inias’ side on the stone floor. Around them sat a colorful garden of orchids, roses, and lilies. A large firepit sat before the three, warming them as they enjoyed the military drills together. Ivaran had constructed the garden as a wedding gift for his then fiancé, Gwenithyra Emberstone. Years after her death, Ivaran had continued to tend it the way his wife had once done. Inias had never asked questions about his aunt. They were met with an icy stare until one of them changed the subject.

The previous night kept returning to him in flashes. He had almost drawn his weapon against his uncle, the king. If it had not been for Aubron’s calming words, Inias and Styx may have found themselves spiked upon the city gates. The silence between them left him uncertain. So many words unsaid, praying his uncle stayed silent. Their relationship had never been a warm one. He paid more attention to Inias than his father had, but never seemed to please him. Either of them.

Styx seemed to enjoy watching the soldiers run around and shot to his feet, eager to chase one of them. “Not now, we’ll play later,” Inias would whisper to the bored fox and scratch him behind the ear. It felt odd to be near his uncle, given what happened last night. He wanted to avoid his uncle’s attention, but felt he should say something after what had happened. Inias looked towards Ivaran, who held his gaze for a minute, then glanced away, pretending something in the distance had caught his eye. “He follows orders,” Ivaran remarked as Styx whimpered and laid back down. “His former master trained him well.” There was a small whimper from the fox at the mention of his old master.

Inias nodded and cleared his throat, “He’s smarter than the average fox,” He tried throwing one of his friendly smiles towards his uncle, who looked away as a roar of laughter from a group of boys caught his attention. They had been taking a long break from their training. They were all around Inias’ age and, in fact, he knew them well. When his eyes landed on the largest of them all, Sylvis Emberstone, his cousin by marriage on his late aunt’s side and a noble pain in his ass, the laughter abruptly ended. With wild green eyes and dusty blonde hair falling in curls around his chiseled face, the boy was quite a sight.

Among the Fae, the three of them shone the ethereal beauty their people were renowned for. Inias, not angelic or beautiful, possessed eyes that mirrored a demon, blood red. He had fangs and long black hair swooped to one side, covering the curved scar on his cheek. From his nails, Inias would grow hooked claws. His appearance was terrifying. They were perfect, while he bore the face of the monsters they feared. He was not as large or muscular as they were, though he outclassed them in raw strength. His outfits often fit his devilish appearance: dark cloaks and fitted black tunics of the finest leather he could buy.

They turned away, as if whispering secrets. “Go play with your friends,” Ivaran growled as he stood from his seat and began walking back towards the castle, “Unlike you, I have work to do.” Half an hour, which was all his uncle could spare during his grieving time.

Styx heard the word ‘play’ and bolted to his feet, wagging his tail. Inias whistled for him to follow as he rose and walked out across the snow-covered lawn towards the men whacking each other with wooden swords. He had once strutted across this field, looking down on lesser warriors. The delight he took in humiliating his peers now left him cringing. His eyes scanned the black castle walls around them, guards armed with crossbows, and some magic firing mechanism on every spire. Scattered among them were cloaked individuals. They were the mages and sorcerers recruited to guard their castle. Because magic could be as deadly as an arrow, Ivaran recruited talented wielders.

Inias walked out to the training field, Styx following at his side. The sounds of training swords clashing, and the cries of soldiers filled the air as they practiced their combat skills. As he passed the group of young men, Sylvis’ intense gaze bore into him, a mixture of challenge and superiority in his eyes. As prince Inias always held rank and Sylvis never pushed his luck too far. “Looks like the king had time for a quick visit,” Sylvis sneered, glancing in the direction Ivaran had gone. The other two behind him snickered at their previous joke. They were smaller than Sylvis, yet more muscular than Inias. On the right stood Vayne Rouan, a boy with short black hair and sapphire blue eyes. His wolfish grin, whenever he directed it towards him, always felt mocking. On the left was Rurik Thorne. His brown hair fell in waves around his olive-skinned face. Inias knew better than to trust him despite the inviting warm brown eyes.

“Bet he’s looking for a new heir.” Sylvis pushed again, flanked by Vayne and Rurik who spread out to box Inias in. Inias turned on his heel to face Sylvis and his giggling companions. “A crown on that colossal head? Would never fit!” Inias would take the attacks from his uncle and the court, but he was in no mood to deal with the three noble brats. “But if he’s ever considering a pompous prick, I’ll throw him your name for consideration.”

“Pompous prick?!” Sylvis laughed aloud, his guffaw ringing across the yard, grabbing attending onlookers. “Coming from a prince who failed to defend his own father,” Vayne spoke, spitting on the ground before the prince. If he were not in such hot water, someone would have reprimanded them for their behavior. A guard or instructor had saved from his big mouth all the time. Now they stood with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, waiting to see what happened between the four boys.

Beside him, Styx growled at them, barring his razor-sharp teeth. “Found someone on your level?” Rurik taunted as he watched the fox with amusement. “Couldn’t replace a decent challenge around here,” Inias tried to remain confident, but a part of him wanted to run back to his room where he and Styx could sit by the fire together, alone. Styx licked his lips as if he were tempting the three to try anything. Inias wanted to return to his room, where he and Styx could spend time by the fire.

Sylvis made his way to the rack or weapons, admiring them. “How can you still be so cocky after what you’ve done?” He wanted a fight. Inias could sense the air in the yard shift as the blonde took two of the wooden swords from the rack, tossing one towards Inias’ feet. “What I’ve done is none of your business, Sylvie!” He wanted to take that wooden stick and bludgeon the boy over the head. Or let Styx loose to see what he could do with them.

Sylvis growled, having always hated the nickname Inias had given him. “The king’s brother is dead, because of you,” Sylvis gripped the handle tight, pointing the stick straight at Inias, who balled his hands into fists, itching to lash out. “Or was it suicide? Did he feel so ashamed of you he’d throw his life away?”

Inias hissed and barred his fangs before he lunged towards the man in a blur of speed, knocking Sylvis to the ground, claws at his throat. He found himself pulled away by Vayne and Rurik, forcing him to his knees as Sylvis rose to his feet again, chuckling. “Get used to looking up at me, hellion. Once Ivaran’s rid of you, that crown will be all mine.” Rurik cried out and tumbled over with Styx snarling down at his terrified expressions. “Call him off!” Vayne snapped, digging his fingers into Inias’ shoulder.

“Break it up!” An instructor stopped the boys before Inias could tear Vayne’s arm off. The man ripped Vayne away and Styx crawled off Rurik’s chest. “We’re just training, that’s all,” Sylvis answered and bowed. They joined their friend as he returned to the training field. “We’ll talk later, Inias!”

“Look forward to it, Sylvie!” Inias fired back at him as the instructor helped him to his feet. “Leave your boytoys at home next time!”

The instructor shook his head as he walked away mumbling, “Never learn…” Inias wiped sweat off his brow before he turned to replace Ivaran smiling in one of the castle windows. It was not Inias he was smiling at. Following the king’s gaze, it landed on Sylvis.