Una corona de sombras

They never found the body of the first and only boy who broke my heart. And they never will. That was a messy business, born of passion and betrayal. My new game is far more ambitious, requiring cunning, not just impulse. My sights are set higher than a mere nobleman's son; I plan to woo the Shadow King. I will make him fall helplessly in love with me, and when he proposes, I will accept. Then, once the marriage is consummated and his kingdom is legally mine, I will kill him and take his throne for myself.

My arrival at the palace is a calculated performance. While every other woman wears green, the king's supposed favorite color, I wear black. I do not wait in line to be introduced; instead, I take to the dance floor with my father, a black rose in a sea of sage petals, ensuring I am the only thing he sees. It works. The king, a man wreathed in living shadows, a man no one is permitted to touch, descends from his throne. His eyes are the green of a stormy sea, and when he speaks, his voice is a deep baritone that sends a delicious jolt through me. “Dance with me,” he says. It is an exhilarating, frantic dance, our bodies mirroring each other from a careful distance, never once making contact. By the end of the night, I have an invitation to join his court. My plan is in motion.

The Shadow King, whose name I learn is Kallias, has a proposition of his own. His council is pressuring him to marry and produce an heir. He has no intention of doing so, but needs to appease them. He asks me to be his pretend-queen, a friend to keep the council at bay. “You are beautiful,” he tells me, “but not so beautiful as to tempt me. You are perfect.” The insult stings, but I see the opportunity. It is the perfect cover. I can get close to him, learn his secrets, and win his heart, all while he believes I want nothing from him but acknowledgment.

Life at court is a web of secrets and threats. A former lover, Myron, appears with blackmail on his lips, threatening to expose my less-than-chaste past. Worse, an investigation into the death of Hektor Galanis has begun, bringing a constable and Hektor's grieving father sniffing at my heels. I must navigate these dangers while befriending the ladies of the court and maintaining my charade with Kallias. But the more time I spend with him in the firelit privacy of his library, the more the lines of my plan begin to blur. He is not just a mark; he is clever, haunted, and achingly lonely, a king who cannot be touched, whose shadows are both a shield and a prison.

One sun-drenched afternoon by a secluded lake, the truth of his curse is laid bare. If he touches another, skin-to-skin, his shadows will vanish in their presence, leaving him mortal and vulnerable. “Falling in love is what got my father killed,” he tells me, his voice heavy with the memory of his murdered parents. It is a secret he has shared with no one. In that moment, surrounded by daffodils, something shifts within me. This game is no longer simple. He is not just a king to be conquered, but a man I find myself wanting to protect.

The threats against him escalate. An assassin, disguised as a servant, shoots him in his mother's rose garden. I watch in horror as he falls, only to see him rise again, his shadows knitting his wound closed. I stand between him and the attacker, my own small dagger feeling useless but necessary. In the aftermath, he moves me into the queen's suite, the rooms adjoining his own. “I have never feared so much for your safety,” he says, and the proximity is both a comfort and a sweet torture. We are closer than ever, yet the space between us feels vast.

Our fragile trust is shattered when a vial of poison - the very one I procured for my original plan - is discovered among my belongings. Kallias confronts me, his face a mask of cold fury. “I intended it for you,” I confess, the words tearing from my throat. “I was going to kill you and take your kingdom.” I try to explain that I abandoned that plan weeks ago, that I have fallen in love with him, but he laughs, a cruel, broken sound. “Leave,” he commands, his voice like ice. “If I ever have to look upon your face again, I'll kill you myself.” Cast out and heartbroken, I am sent away from the palace in disgrace.

But in the carriage ride away from everything I have come to want, a stray clue clicks into place - the scent of hair dye, a forgotten conversation, a friend's constant presence. The man I knew as Leandros, Kallias's childhood friend, is not who he seems. He is Xanthos, Kallias's older brother, long thought dead but returned in disguise to murder his family and reclaim his birthright. Knowing Kallias is alone and vulnerable, I race back to the palace, ready to face his wrath to warn him of the true threat.

I find them in the queen's sitting room. The ensuing confrontation is a storm of revelation and violence. Xanthos confesses to murdering their parents, his heart twisted by jealousy over the power he was denied. The brothers clash in a brutal, desperate fight. When Kallias falls, I do not hesitate. I step between them and drive a sword through Xanthos's throat. “You didn't really know me,” I tell his dying form. “If you had, you'd know I've already killed for love once before.”

Days later, Kallias finds me at my friend's estate. He is bruised and battered, but he is alive, and he is sorry. He comes not with threats, but with a love letter he was too much of a coward to read to me before. “All the time in the world is worth nothing if I don't get to spend it with you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He chose a mortal life, a life where he could be touched, a life with me. I came to the palace seeking a crown, but as his lips finally meet mine, free of shadows and secrets, I know I have won something far greater: a kingdom of two, with a king who is finally, truly mine.