Prince of shadows, p.1
Prince of Shadows, page 1
PRINCE OF SHADOWS
BOOK ONE OF THE BLESSED
M.A. GUGLIELMO
MERIT PTAH PRESS
Copyright 2025 by M.A. Guglielmo
Published by Merit Ptah Press West Warwick, RI USA
contactmaguglielmo@gmail.com
All rights reserved.
Proofreading by Andi Marlowe
Copyediting by Janet Jones Bann
Developmental Edits by Jeni Chapelle
Cover design by Glass Slipper Webdesigns
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any means whatsoever, including by artificial intelligence in any form, without the express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
CONTENT WARNINGS
Prince of Shadows has strong language, violence, the death of animals, and explicit sex scenes.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Author’s Note
FOLLOW M.A. GUGLIELMO
Bonus Material
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Also By M.A. Guglielmo
For my daughters, Chiara and Sabrina
1
MERI
Meritamun—the Lioness of Abdju to her fans and many enemies, and simply Meri to her friends—had a parasitic necromancer in her spine and only weeks to live.
That didn’t mean she would tolerate laziness and lolling about by her crew.
She had a reputation to maintain, even this close to the end.
“If the lot of you don’t saddle your mounts and put your asses on top of them, I’m leaving you all here.” Meri’s horse Nada, a pretty Kushian mare bred for speed and the desert as much as her rider, gave a snort of approval as Meri continued her lecture to the three men sprawled out in the shadow of a Witch Stone. The ancient arch had been visible for the past few miles of their journey through the bucolic pastures and farmland of the Soissons countryside. At times the structure had a blue-green tinge that suggested a type of metal, and from other angles it appeared to be polished stone. It smelled wrong, as did everything that had to do with witches.
“We’ve been on the road for weeks, the capital’s less than an hour’s ride away, and I’d prefer not to lounge around near something constructed by demons.” Meri wrinkled her nose at the arch, its scent reminding her of clinging fog and pine resin. She was in desperate need of a bath and a good tumble, and wouldn’t have wanted to dawdle this close to their final destination even if the cursed thing wasn’t there.
“It’s only a weather Artifact.” Gallmau flashed Meri his usual warm smile as he looked up from the letter. Despite having read it aloud to her a dozen times, he had pulled it out again, as if he could wring more information from the words inked on expensive parchment. “The Noviodunam witches use arches like this one to increase rainfall for crops, that sort of thing. There’s an Artifact down the road that’s supposed to be haunted, though, if you want to check it out.”
The council of sorcerers in Soissons known as the Noviodunam might say they were Artifacts, but Meri knew them as Witch Stones and that’s what she would call them.
She also knew Gallmau was stalling. He had his reasons, and she sympathized to a point. But this whole damn trip had been his idea, and they needed to get moving.
“We have to finish our game.” Tharin, a Kushian like herself, narrowed his eyes at his cards and glanced over at his twin brother, Karabil, who was waiting for him to show his hand. He might as well be looking into a mirror. “I’m about to take all of Karabil’s money.”
“I recall something about the Three Prophets calling gambling a sin.” Meri didn’t have the same sympathy for the brothers’ reluctance to get going. “Aren’t the two of you in a hurry to cheat some gullible Soissons soldiers while ogling the local women?”
“We’ll get around to it.” Karabil laid his cards out on the ground to a groan of disappointment from Tharin. Karabil might be the quieter twin, but he was also the sneakiest.
“Fine.” Meri turned her attention back to Gallmau, who had dropped his eyes down to the paper again and was avoiding her gaze. “I’ll ride up to the next Witch Stone, and you’d best be ready when I return if you want me to meet this witch friend of yours.”
“The Sorcier du Roi of the Kingdom of Soissons has sent a formal letter asking for my assistance.” Gallmau waved the parchment at her. He showed far more respect to witches with fancy government positions than she did. “Try to be diplomatic when I introduce you to him. We help him, he helps us. Honestly, Meri, he’s one of the Queen’s top advisors, not a Bone Lord.”
Meri knew the royal sorcerer she had reluctantly agreed to meet wasn’t a necromancer. Still, the thought of asking any witch for help made her skin crawl. A necromancer—a Bone Lord, in the common parlance—had cursed Meri as he lay dying by her hands and now lurked inside her. Gallmau’s sorcerer might be her last chance to exorcise the undead spirit who would be freed by her death, but that didn’t mean she trusted the bastard.
Unlike Gallmau, she saw no reason to delay doing something that had to be done. “I don’t care if your Sorcier du Roi is a Bone Lord, as long as I get to sleep in a real bed tonight, preferably with a man next to me who snores less than you do.”
Gallmau grinned, probably about the man in her bed, whom he would most likely try to lure over to his sleeping pallet. She knew he wasn’t amused about the Bone Lord part. Meri had made some unwise choices in lovers in the past, but she had never tumbled a necromancer.
“We’re on the main highway to Lutecia.” Gallmau waved at the road to the capital city of the kingdom, paved and in excellent condition. “It’s patrolled by the Gardes Soissons, and getting into the city after dusk will mean I’ll attract less attention.”
Given that Gallmau had the face of an angel, the physique of a bear, and a head of red hair, he would attract attention in any town they visited. Since he was also the bastard son of the former King of Soissons, his presence in the capital would cause even more of a stir, no matter what time they arrived. Her friend might have an invitation to return from the Sorcier du Roi, but that was no guarantee his presence would be welcomed by the reigning Queen of Soissons and the only legitimate heir, his younger half-sister. He had more reason to be worried about his reception than she did.
So Meri checked her always too-sharp tongue. Gallmau had returned home to ask the Court’s head witch to cure Meri’s curse in exchange for helping him deal with whatever crisis had prompted the letter. The least she could do was allow her friend a little procrastination while she checked out the road ahead.
She swung up into Nada’s saddle, gave the mare an encouraging pat, and set off. Rumors of ghosts and hauntings always drew her interest, as Gallmau knew only too well. She couldn’t pass up any opportunity to learn more about the death magic that had cursed her, if there was even the smallest possibility she could rid herself of the undead enemy buried inside her.
The next Witch Stone was only a few minutes’ ride away. This one was in the shape of an oversized grave marker, and it gleamed white in the late-afternoon sun like the gigantic tooth of a long-dead monster.
The wind shifted, and with it came the scent of magic too new and foul to be from the ancient structure. Except for witches, few people could sense spellcraft like she could, much less by sniffing it out. The Gift of speed the Prophets had blessed her with didn’t often come with this odd talent. It had saved her life many times before, and this was no exception.
She focused on her heart pulsing in her chest, on the interval between the beats, and the world slowed as she sped up. As the stench filled her nose, damp and rank, like the wet fur of a dog, she swung off Nada and jumped to the ground. The horse continued at a brisk pace, unable to process yet that her rider was no longer on her back. Meri blew into the warning whistle around her neck and unsheathed the dual curved swords that had been the best gift from a night of passion she had ever received.
Her horse at full gallop could outrace any Continental steed with ease, but with her Gift Meri could run faster than the animal for short distances. With Nada at a steady trot, she moved several paces in front of the horse and had her weapons ready as the monster jumped out.
The assault would have stunned her with its speed and fury if her nose had not given her enough warning to sink into her powers. Instead, she tracked the unnatural creature’s flight through the air and moved into position with a blade in each hand. She braced herself to strike her opponent, a large dog with pale fur and eyes that glowed with an unnatural yellow light.
A Death Hound. Where was its master?
She opened up great slashes in the Hound’s belly with a series of strikes as the animal soared toward Nada, jaws open. Most of her fellow speed fighters would have stayed in the space between heartbeats, wanting to remain secure in their speed until the kill was confirmed.
Then again, many of her fellow speed competitors in the arena hadn’t seen how easily one of their kind died when exhaustion kicked in.
Meri pulled herself out, and the world roared back into its regular timeline. Her horse neighed in panic, shying away from the spray of blood from the Death Hound’s wounds and galloping off down the road. The monster lay on the paving stones, viscera sliding out of the cuts in its abdomen as its jaws continued to snap and snarl. She sucked in a sharp breath at the sight, then regained her focus.
Her blows should have killed it three times over, but a Death Hound had its own necromantic magic, and even her water-enchanted blades weren’t enough to end the damn thing. She would have to take its head, like she would take its master’s if she could. Touched animals like this were rare, and the beast must be under the control of a nearby Bone Lord.
Gritting her teeth, she circled the beast, waiting for a good opening to strike at its neck. Diving back into her speed would be the easiest method, but if there was a necromancer nearby, she didn’t want to use up her limited endurance finishing off an animal that was no longer a threat. Her warning whistle should rouse Gallmau and the twins to come and cover her back—Meri didn’t call for help often.
The white Death Hound’s infuriated throes grew weaker, and Meri raised a single curved blade to decapitate the monster. The same fetid smell reached her nose, and she flattened herself to the ground.
She whispered a quick prayer of thanks to the Prophets. A second Death Hound had approached with unbelievable silence to take her off-guard, but her regular reflexes were quick enough that the creature soared over her. That gave her a precious blink in time to sink into her speed again.
It didn’t work.
A spasm ripped through her upper back, worse than a knife, and Meri knew what being stabbed in the back felt like, since it had happened more than once. A gasp of agony escaped her lips.
It was the necromancer inside her, lashing out and crippling her with pain. Her curse had never struck during combat, but this was the end of the three years’ grace she had been granted.
Meri forced herself to jerk her right hand up, her blade catching the leg of the second Death Hound as it pounced on her. This one had fur of midnight black, eyes like glowing coals, and breath that reeked of rotten meat. It fought furiously to get its jaws around her neck, but she slashed at its cheek and used her remaining strength to send the creature sprawling.
She rose to her feet, bent over in agony as the pain in her back refused to let up.
Leave me alone, you bastard.
The infuriatingly relentless Death Hound advanced toward her on three legs. The other creature she had failed to behead, its pale fur now pink with blood, staggered upright. Both monsters stalked her, one drooling saliva from the cut on its jowls, and the other trailing loops of intestines onto the road.
Fuck. What did it take to kill these things?
The crippling wrenching in her spine eased, and Meri fought to drop back into her speed. She could feel herself beginning to slip into the familiar reality that allowed her to move faster than human eyes could track.
One of the hounds lunged, and she fell backward, stunned, her sword tumbling out of her hand. For an agonizing second, she could do nothing but watch its jaws open over her throat, yellow teeth specked with chunks of flesh. Her speed finally flooded through her, and she reached up to claw at its eyes, twisting the head away from her. Pinned to the ground, though, her lightning reflexes couldn’t help her much more. Her depleted strength wasn’t enough to throw the creature off, and the second hound was advancing toward her, paws padding in slow motion across the stones.
Panic constricted her chest. Her friends wouldn’t make it in time. The undead necromancer inside of her would be unleashed upon the world. All her Gift could offer now was the opportunity to watch her death unfold at a leisurely pace.
2
MERI
Meri’s strength gave out first, then her speed, and time came rushing back. The words of the final prayer formed in her mind, and she waited for the searing pain of the monster’s teeth as they sank into her flesh.
But she never felt the bite.
Instead, the white Death Hound flew off her, knocked fully across the road by a flash of metal and wood. Gallmau stood over her, holding the shield he had used to pummel the beast. His massive round piece of armor, emblazoned with the royal crest of Soissons, had its own smell of magic—damp moss and aged oak. Prophets bless him, he had come in time. She opened her mouth to scream instructions at him, but he had paid attention to her teachings over the past few years. He slung his shield on his back and unsheathed his sword. With a few long steps, he reached the limping dark Hound and took off its head in one blow.
Her cursed spine had relaxed, perhaps with the anticipation of her death, and she reached for her speed again, scooping up one of her fallen blades and darting across the road toward the white Hound. Its ribcage had been caved in by the force of Gallmau’s blow, but the monster was still beginning to rise to its feet for another attack when she brought the edge of her blade against its neck as hard as she could, hacking until the furred head dropped to the ground.
Once again she stepped out of her speed, arms and legs shaking. She had more endurance than most people who shared her Gift—much as Gallmau was far quicker than the average strength fighter—but this battle had pushed her beyond her limits. Of course, had her curse not struck at the worst possible moment, she might have been able to end all of this without Gallmau’s help.
“What the fuck were those things?” her red-haired friend asked before turning back to the road as hoofbeats pounded up toward them. Gallmau had ridden the short distance from their afternoon camp bareback, with only his short sword and shield. Not the wisest choice when entering into a dangerous and unknown situation, but he had saved her life, so she supposed she couldn’t scold him about it.
The twins pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted with their black powder pistols drawn—useless against death magic, but unlike Gallmau, they ignored her lectures—and stared around them in a mix of confusion and awe.
“Death Hounds.” Meri’s breaths came in gasps, and Karabil rushed over to hand her a canteen of water. He was thoughtful enough to pull out some dried fruit to go with it. She always craved sweets when she pushed herself this far, although the rush of relief they gave her faded quickly. “Animals with death magic. Some Bone Lords keep them as pets.”
“We’re less than an hour away from the capital.” Gallmau kicked at the remnants of the dark-furred Hound. “What necromancer would dare to send things like this out to kill travelers with the Noviodunam so close?”
Meri chewed away at her fruit leather and took another long gulp of water. The Noviodunam was to the Kingdom of Soissons what the University of Abdju was to her home country, the Sultanate of Kush. Both were centers of magical scholarship and learning known throughout the world, and both were crawling with every sort of sorcerer—except necromancers. Other witches hated Bone Lords as much as she did. This was an unusual attack, and the sensible thing was to make haste to the capital and let the sorcerer soldiers of the Noviodunam track down the Bone Lord responsible.
A woman screamed, followed by a loud crash of breaking wood.
Gallmau whirled toward the sound, and Meri jerked her attention to the Witch Stone, as if more monsters might jump out from behind it. To the left of the bone-pale structure were carriage-wheel tracks leading into the trees, a detail she had missed until now. Her friend took off in that direction, incapable as ever of ignoring a damsel in distress.
“Leave the horses. We’ll go on foot.” Meri added in a few curses under her breath as she ordered the twins to follow Gallmau. She wasn’t about to ignore a cry for help, but she would have preferred her friend put practicality before gallantry and let her assess the situation with her speed before he charged in. Still, her Gift had its limits, and if the Death Hounds’ master was in the grove, she and her companions were trained to work as a team to take down the Bone Lord responsible for the monstrous dogs.
