by Bailey Dark
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About the Author
Bailey Dark is obsessed with all things dark, hot, and supernatural. From Fae to Aliens, her heroes are thoroughly alpha and pure raw masculinity. When she’s not writing (which is hardly ever) she’s busy watching every movie in the marvel universe, or binging supernatural on her couch. So come along, and enter her dark world. . . .
https://www.baileydarkromance.com/
Series by Bailey Dark
Mated to The Fae King (complete)
Captive of Shadows
Warlords of Farian (complete)
Avalon Academy Series
& More!
FREE Preview - Promised to The Shadow King
Chapter One
Briar
I sit still as Laurel leans over me to paint a red stain on my lips. The paint is cool, and her touch is soft. It’s something she’s done many times before, but today is different. Today I can see her hand trembling. My own stomach roils with nerves, but I try to push them down unsuccessfully. At my feet, Sera manicures my nails and massages the arch gently. She’s trying to calm me, I think. It won’t work.
"Gods, can you imagine?" Rose, my oldest sister, sighs, dramatically. She fiddles with my hair as if to help the servants do it up. "I bet he smells like rotting corpses."
I bite the inside of my lip, careful not to ruin the stain Laurel so carefully painted. She’s drawing kohl around my eyes now, giving me a dramatic look. She’s silent while Rose convinces my second oldest sister, Delphine, of King Kane’s horrific stench. I can see the worry in Laurel’s eyes. I reach out and pat her knee, quickly so my sisters don’t see. They’ve never approved of my friendships with the servants.
“Do you think he really has claws and horns?” Delphine asks. Her naïve voice is sweet but strange; it’s always come from the back of her throat.
I watch in the mirror as Rose rolls her eyes. “Of course he does, you ninny. He’s got horns all along his back and a tail too.”
“A tail?” Delphine gasps, looking horrified. Her eyes flash towards me worriedly, but Rose wraps her arm in a vice-like grip.
"Don't worry about Briar, he wanted her, remember?" Rose cuts her eyes towards me. "Maybe he's a shapeshifter and will wear a skin to please her."
I keep my face a still mask, an expression I’ve mastered. Rose is trying to comfort me in her own way, but she’s always been too self-centered to practice it. Now, her attempt is half-hearted and clumsy. “I’m sure it will be fine,” I murmur.
Sera rises from her knees and inspects my hair. She tuts, giving me a familiar, scolding look. I almost smile, relieved that we can at least pretend it’s a normal day and not the Day of Collection. “What shall we do with these tangles of coal?” She asks lightly.
Rose sniffs at Sera’s teasing words. “Mind how you speak,” she says through pursed lips.
“How do you think he would like it?” My heart drums rapidly in my chest and I touch my hair tentatively.
Sera’s shoulders stiffen at my question. “A man would be pleased to run his fingers through your hair. But perhaps we should make him work for it.”
“Alright,” I say, a small grin on my lips.
My tutors have taught me the mechanics of pleasuring a man, or at least mentioned it, but the details of it escape me. For most girls, it’s the eldest sister who takes the leap of marriage and beds a man first, but today it’s me. We’ve known since my birth that it would be me, and so my sisters have moved on from the slight. No one postpones an engagement to King Kane to simply marry the other sisters off. No one would dare. Despite his reputation and my fear, there’s a yearning in me to please him, to make him happy that he chose me twenty years ago.
Sera makes quick work of my hair while Laurel finishes my makeup. Delphine sighs happily at the sight of me, clapping her hands together. “You look as pretty as a princess,” she says.
I grin at her. We’ve told each other that since we were children, it always made us giggle that the commoners compared beauty to a princess. I open my mouth to reply when Rose ushers Sera away from my hair and puts on the finishing touches. She bites her bottom lip and pulls a pearl pin from her pocket. I inhale sharply in surprise as Rose slips it into my hair, completing the look.
“Mother would have wanted you to have it,” she murmurs. “And perhaps it will bring some luck with the Dead King.”
“Rose, it’s yours,” I protest. “I can’t take it.”
“Then let me lend it to you.” She steps out of reach. “And give it back to me when you return.”
Silence weighs heavily in the room. None of us know if I ever will return. No one knows what awaits me when King Kane arrives to collect on the deal he made all those years ago, the deal that saved my mother’s life for a time. I touch the pin in my hair tentatively. He can’t be that horrid, not when he saved my mother’s life and gave her sixteen years with us. Of course, he did it all in exchange for her lastborn.
“Come,” Laurel says politely, urging me to my feet.
I shiver in the thin, elegant gown, I’ve been laced into, and step in front of the long mirror. My sisters and servants study me appraisingly. I hardly recognize myself. The ivory gown accentuates curves I never knew I had, making my breasts look full and supple. Sera has done my hair into a halo around my head, little wisps of my black locks captured by the light. My eyes, already doe-like, are prominent now, and my lips look perfect and pouty. Everything compliments my pale skin and Laurel has left my rosy cheeks on full display.
I steel my shoulders. It doesn’t matter now, but it will matter later when King Kane and I perform the Unveiling in the privacy of his castle. For now, only my sisters and most trusted friends will see me before he claims me. The last in this realm of the living to truly see me. I swallow hard.
“You look beautiful,” Rose says stiffly.
Delphine nods encouragingly, her wide, innocent eyes silver with tears. “If he’s absolutely horrid, I’ll cough twice.” She takes my hands in hers and holds them tight. “Stay strong, Briar.”
I put on a strong smile even though I don’t feel it. Sera and Laurel return with my veil. A piece of fabric that will cover me from head to toe. It’s red, by the request of King Kane himself, and absolutely covered in precious gems and metals and pearls. The veil is thick and will be heavy with the additional decorations. Delphine places a tall, thin crown on the top of my head. The crown isn’t for decorative purposes, but to hold the veil off of my hair so it won’t ruin the styling.
I brace myself for the heavy fabric. Sera and Laurel drape it over the crown and I wobble under the sudden weight. Rose catches me. “I told you to exercise more, you weak little girl,” she hisses.
I grimace apologetically, meeting her eyes. All I see is cerulean blue, completely opposite of my gray eyes, before the veil shrouds me in darkness. I can hardly see the glow of light through the threads of the veil. My heart is in my throat as panic sets in. I've never been one for dark or small, cramped spaces. I wring my hands together out of sight until I've calmed. Sera sticks her head under the veil, and I look down on her, panic clear in my eyes. She smiles encouragingly and mouths that she’ll miss me. I nod desperately and force my eyes away before I fall into tears.
It’s all real now. I’ve been thinking of and preparing for this moment my entire life, but somehow, I’m not ready for it. All year, I felt nervous and excited about meeting my future husband, wondering what he looks like and how he speaks. I’ve dreamt about the sound of his voice. But, Gods, I would give anything for just one more year at home.
“Come, Delphine,” Rose says. “We must put on our own veils.”
“Yes,” Delphine whispers. She leans close to me. “Remember, two coughs.”
According to custom, all unmarried women must be veiled during the Collection so as not to distract the groom from his bride. My sisters will wear detailed and love
ly veils, but they will be the traditional ivory. The door snaps shut, and I know they’ve gone. I sag a little, revealing my fear to my friends.
“Don’t listen to them,” Laurel says. I feel her hand through the veil as she rubs my arm. “King Kane won’t have fangs, or claws, or a tail.”
“He’ll be handsome and kind,” Sera promises.
“Thank you,” I murmur, grateful that my two, true friends wouldn’t try to fill me with fear before I meet him.
“And remember, if you don’t wish to be wed after the three months, you can come home, no questions asked,” Laurel says eagerly.
I swallow thickly, throat dry. If I did that, my father would never forgive me, and no suitor would want a tainted woman. But I nod for them, to put them at ease. They make a few adjustments to my veil, making sure it truly does cover me from head to toe. The stone floor is cold against my feet, and I shift nervously. Brides don't wear shoes, entering barefoot into their groom's home.
I hear the door creak open, and Laurel and Sera guide me towards it. There will be a guard on the other side to escort me to the throne room where the Collection will take place. I shuffle behind the guard, between Sera and Laurel. They hold my elbows when we gingerly descend the many stairs leading from my room to the main floor. I miscalculate the distance for a step and scuff my big toe against the stone. I hiss, pain flaring and settling into a dull throb.
The guard’s loud footsteps halt and I know we’ve reached our destination. My stomach is filled with butterflies, so many that I fear I’ll vomit the meager lunch I was forced to eat. I’m grateful, for once, for the thick veil that hides my panic-filled eyes from view. I don’t want my father to see how terrified I am. I think I’m practically green.
I feel a strong arm around me and lean into my father’s embrace. “Remember, what you do, you do for your mother and Ryrn,” he murmurs.
I nod fiercely, fighting back the tears pooling in my eyes. I can’t cry. It will ruin my makeup. “I know, father,” I whisper.
He pulls away and I’m filled with fear again. “Don’t be afraid. You’re a Princess of Ryrn.”
His words mean little to me now that I’m already drowning in anxiety, but I nod anyway. My sisters enter the throne room first, their heeled shoes tapping on the floor as they’re escorted by servants. My father follows, and the door closes behind him. I wait alone, Sera and Laurel were sent away. Through the door, I can hear my father’s booming voice as he discusses the terms of the Collection with King Kane. He makes a swift speech about the ties between our kingdoms. And then the door opens again.
I take a hesitant step forward, my feet never lifting from the ground, so I don’t lose my footing or sense of direction. I walk as regally as I can into the throne room, holding my head high. It’s the cold that almost stops me first. I hesitate, fear coiling around my heart. I’ve never felt cold like this before, the kind that creeps over you like a snake. I shuffle forward until I reach the soft padding of a carpet; my spot.
When I turn and face in the direction of my groom, it’s completely black. There’s no light filtering through my veil any longer, it’s as dark as night. I almost jump when my father’s voice rings out beside me.
“I, Alban Charleroi Deslionne, offer you a Daughter of Ryrn,” my father intones.
My heart pounds, waiting for my groom’s reply. “I,” a silky voice purrs from in front of me. I feel weak at the knees, relieved to hear a normal voice. Kane’s voice is deep, without grating on my ears; an addictive sound. “I, Kane Enfer of the line of the Gods, accept this Daughter of Ryrn.”
“She is yours, lest the Gods strike me down,” my father says, his voice booming through the throne room.
The ceremony is complete now, but grooms may offer a final proclamation if they wish. So, I wait, knees quaking, as I face my groom in complete darkness. I hear a soft breath in front of me, and I know it’s him. My stomach does an odd, little flip at the sound.
"She is mine, the token of a debt now paid, lest the Gods strike you down," Kane says. I shiver at the sound of his voice, at the dangerous implications of his words.
Soft footsteps as my father steps backward, leaving me alone before Death himself. I fix my eyes forward, praying to the Goddess of Peace that he can't hear my heart pounding in my chest. I hear the soft rustling of fabric as Kane closes the distance between us. The shadows around me grow deeper and I wonder if he himself is nothing more than darkness.
But then I feel the firm touch of his hand on the small of my back. He’s cold; even through the veil I can feel the chill emanating from him. He guides me forward, fingers digging into me. I don’t feel any claws. I try to breathe regularly, to convince him that I have no fear. But I can’t help the gasp that slips from my lips when my world tips upside down.
I’m going to the Underworld.
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Chapter One
Altair
The purple hue of the dusky sky is fringed with orange. The sun is rising, though the daylight hasn’t yet driven out the night. The stars are still visible, winking above the city and the palace. From the roofless tower, I can hear my people below. The sounds of the city echo towards me, reaching high into the sky. Music and laughter. Laughter that will soon fall silent forever.
I narrow my eyes, staring angrily towards the mountain range in the distance. I can almost see Maaz and her Bloodbane witches soaring over the mountain peaks on their deadwood brooms. But it’s only a flock of birds.
I’m running out of time. The night is disappearing, and the days are passing too quickly. I relish the night. Every morning, as dawn approaches, I can’t escape the memory of the day Maaz cursed me. Cursed me to become the beast she saw when I refused her. I close my eyes, envisioning the moment.
Maaz, dressed in the blood-red gown slinked into my throne room as if it were hers already. She had dragged her long, black fingernails across my throat and down my chest, grinning.
I will never forget that grin. Cursed, she had said. Cursed for a thousand years or until I find a Bloodbane witch to break the spell and bind herself to me willingly. Cursed to die, along with all of my people, at the end of the thousand years.
And time is running short.
My stomach twists as Maaz’s cruel smirk flashes through my mind again. The wind caresses my cheek, and I open my eyes to stare down at my city once more. My coat snaps out behind me as the wind speed picks up. It’s coming from the West, towards the mountains.
I scowl, probably a reminder from Maaz. A gloat. A boast. She thinks she’s won already. Fury sweeps through me, sending my blood singing with blood lust. I swing my arm towards the flag pole beside me, where my banner proudly waves, and drive my fist through the wood. It splinters loudly, and the pole breaks in half. It clatters to the stone floor of the tower, the flag coiled beneath it.
I stare down at it, at the black hawk poised to strike on the background of red fabric. My crest. My boot falls over the hawk as I drive the heel of my boot onto the hawk, soiling the flag. It’s a useless symbol, anyway. Behind me, I hear the soft sound of Navi clearing her throat.
“When did you get here?” I ask, kicking the flag away.
She stoops and collects it from the ground. Always the loyal and patriotic soldier. “When you destroyed a perfectly good flag pole with a single punch,” she says soberly. She folds the flag and cradles it in her arms.
I scoff. “Just let it go, Navi. That flag won’t mean anything soon.”
“Quitting right before the end?” Navi asks, her green eyes flashing. “I expected more than that from our King.”
“King,” I echo softly. “A failure, you mean.”
“Altair,” she whispers, placing a thin hand on my shoulder. “There is hope yet.”
I turn to her, twisting my shoulder out from under her touch. She tucks her long hair behind one of her pointed ears as I stare coldly at her. �
�Don’t feed me lies, Navi.”
“Your Majesty, the scholars have identified the one who may be the key to ending the curse. We know where she is now.” Navi’s eyes glitter. “Let me retrieve her.”
“They found her?” I ask as the sun’s first rays slip over the horizon. Disbelief taints my voice. We’ve searched for her for hundreds of years, many of the scholars said it was impossible. That her existence was only a legend, a rumor.
I have waited almost five hundred years for this moment.
“I will go,” Navi says.
“No.” I turn to the rising sun. “I will.”
Chapter Two
Verity
The lipstick is too red for my tastes, a sharp contrast to my ivory skin. I sigh and wipe at it with a towel, smearing it a little. Tara clucks her tongue at me and uses a finger to gentle nudge my face towards her. She takes the towel and adjusts the makeup.
“What’s on your mind? I thought we decided on that lipstick yesterday,” she says. “Let’s go nude.”
I puff out my cheeks as she rummages through her makeup bag for a more natural lip. “I wouldn’t say that I’m getting cold feet . . . but I am apprehensive, let’s say.”
She paints my lips with the nude coral tone. Much better. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can back out now if you want to, run away even. I’ve got your back.”
“Tara, you know I can’t,” I say. “My parents, well, they need this.”
Tara purses her lips and steps back to survey the whole picture. “God, you look gorgeous. Come look.” She maneuvers me in front of the floor-length mirror so I can see myself. “You’re the prettiest bride in the world.”
Dressed in a sleeveless ivory lace gown that hugs my figure before falling loosely to the floor in twirls of tulle, I do look the picture of a bride. Even if I don’t quite feel it. “The nude lip looks much better,” I remark, twisting my head to the side to admire my hair.