Page 43 of Rumpelstilzchen

“A Heart.” Boy cut him off.

His Shadow smiled. “A Heart.”

That smile faltered, and Boy felt the echo of his sadness through to the core of his being.

“Without a Heart, my time in the human realm makes me vulnerable.” His Shadow removed his hand from the back of Boy’s neck and placed it on his own chest. “The space where it should be is my only weakness.”

Weak and vulnerable were not words that came to mind whenever he thought about the geist, and the admission caught Boy off guard. Then he remembered the way his Shadow had dropped to his knees when the Queen had summoned him last night. How he had clutched at his chest as if he wanted to tear through his skin and rip something out from the inside. Boy had been desperate to help, had wanted to do anything that could ease his suffering, and when he’d asked what was needed, the answer had been, “my Heart.”

As if he knew Boy’s thoughts, his Shadow nodded solemnly. “Queen Schön did as you suspected; she used the Law of Names in a spell to infect me with black magick.” The hand on his chest formed an angry fist. “That’s how she enthralled me.”

A heady mix of validation and nausea swirled violently in Boy’s stomach. Knowing he’d freed his Shadow from such an existence was a moment of pride and immense relief, but the gnawing pit in his gut ate up those positive emotions as fast as they occurred. Now that the shadow geist was no longer enslaved, his time in the human realm was limited. He’d said he needed his Heart to stay, and from his evident discomposure, Boy didn’t think he would like whatever his Shadow was about to say next.

“But she could only do that because I hadn’t yet claimed my Heart.”

Boy exhaled.

“And because I still haven’t, she’s in her private rooms working out how to cast it again.”

Boy stiffened. Could she do that? Boy was ashamed to admit he hadn’t thought of that possibility. He chewed on his bottom lip.

The whole while, dark eyes willed Boy to understand. He could sense their urgency as if it were his own. Boy was missing something, and whatever it was, his Shadow was desperate for him to arrive at the conclusion by himself.

Boy gasped. “But you said that I’m your Heart!”

“You are,” confirmed the geist, his eyes ablaze with possession.

“So then, you need to claim me? If you don’t, the Queen could enthral you again, or you have to return to the shadow realm.” Boy’s heart pounded rabbit-fast in his chest.

Those piercing black eyes were cast downward when his Shadow nodded. “Yes.” The admission was quiet, but Boy felt the impact as if it had been shouted. “Yes, from the moment I knew what you were to me, I’ve wanted nothing more than to claim you—to keep you.”

In the dark reflection of the shadow geist’s gaze, he saw the glint from the golden thread around his neck, and the breath in Boy’s lungs froze.

His Shadow uncurled a fist and hooked a finger through the delicate necklace that he had been gifted. “The black magick that infected me made it impossible to claim you.” His Shadow tugged on the golden thread, and Boy felt it press into the back of his neck. “That, and I hadn’t expected you to be so…” He let the thread fall back into the hollow of Boy’s throat. “Mortal.”

Boy winced at the candour, and the geist’s lips drew into a thin and determined line.

“I infused this collar with my magick because you are mine, and I wanted to keep you with me, always.” His Shadow took a long and slow inhale. “But also, because I lacked the courage to tell you the truth.”

The long pause that followed filled Boy’s veins with ice.

His Shadow rested back on his heels, and silence stretched between them.

Slowly, and with trembling hands, Boy shrugged off the shadows that cloaked him and pulled at the golden thread around his neck until it snapped. He brought the elegant collar to his lap, where he examined it closely. It was a simple and clean design, not much different at all from the thread he had watched being spun from straw. Except this one had very faint shadow wisps emanating from it.

Boy held the golden thread in one hand, and with the other palm up, he called the shadows to him. They came without resistance and formed a small ball of darkness that hovered just above his skin. Despite his heavy heart and racing mind, Boy smiled at the wonderment of magick.

He heaved out a sigh. At least he had his answer as to why Falchovari’s most powerful shadow geist had chosen to deceive the Queen and spin the straw into gold. Boy was his Heart—without whom he would be reclaimed by the shadow realm.

Except—no. Maybe that explained why his Shadow didn’t kill him that first night they met, but it wasn’t the full picture. It didn’t explain the conjuring of the best food Boy had ever eaten, nor the insistence that he eat each day. It didn’t explain the gentle thoroughness with which he washed Boy in the Merchant’s Quarters. Neither did it explain the loving care that his Shadow had exhibited, even now, when he commanded his magick to raise Boy from the stone floor and wrap around him to guard against the chill.

No. His Shadow still wasn’t being truthful, despite his words, because he remained blind to himself.

With his eyes trained on the length of golden thread in his hand, Boy whispered, “You still haven’t asked me why I did it.”

A low rumbling sound came from his Shadow’s throat. Then a brief pause. Then he quietly asked, “Why did you do it?”

Boy hid his small smile by biting on his bottom lip.