It hurts like a big game arrow straight to the chest. “Oh Luke... no... what did he say?” I ask and return to the table, placing both my palms on the smooth wood. All pride I ever had is draining out of me in the face of my lover’s distress. I want to cradle him in my arms and make all his worries disappear, but instead I’m trapped, so far away from him.
“He was asking aboutyou, of course. Why would you question if he still wants to marry you? That boy is crazy about you. I had to restrain him in the corridor when he got the idea that he doesn’t want to leave your side after all. His hand bled all over my jacket,” Tristan points to the dark stains.
Words get stuck in my throat as I stare at the dark spots with dread and sadness crawling through my insides. “Because he didn’t know I planned to keep him in the Nightmare Realm. He didn’t understand that everyone would treat me as a pariah. Everything’s changed now that he can finally see I’m not worthy of him.” It flows out of me like an icy river, and I rub my face, trying to regain my composure. “I would give anything for a chance to see him.”
Tristan gets up. “You are Crown Prince Kyran Nightweed. Of course you are worthy of him. And youshouldsee him.”
I look up, clutching the edge of the table. “But the tower’s protected with shadow wards—”
Tristan grins. “I’ve got an idea.”
Chapter 42
Luke
The floor trembles under my feet, and as I slide down the wall, imagining what would happen if the tall and slender tower I’ve been locked in crumbles into the ocean, a sense of dread coils deep in my gut. The tremors finally stop, leaving me with a numbness wherever my flesh touches a surface. It’s a reminder that Kyran and I were meant to serve as the weapon against the very thing causing the quakes, and our union just fell through for the second time.
But as the immediate fear for my life passes, I’m back to nursing the burning hole in the middle of my chest, and neither the scented candles peppered throughout the circular room, nor the fine furnishings can make me any less desperate.
I repeat the duel in my head over and over again, wondering if there was something I could have done. Every time I do that, Kyran’s words jam the cogs in my brain.
What does it matter if I never intended to let Luke go?
I know his feelings for me are true, yet the seed of uncertainty is there, planted deep in the potent soil of my mistrust. I have to fight myself to chase off the voices suggesting everything about our love is fake.
At least I’m alone here so I can cry my heart out, uncaring about someone seeing what a mess I am. Yet as much as this potential betrayal of trust hurts, my mind is full of worries for Kyran. I, the guy who has no real friends and who doesn’t care who he fucks as long as the sex is good, fell hard for a dude who might have been lying to me all along, and all I have on my mind is his safety.
I cannot begin to describe the distress of seeing him put in that collar like some wild animal in need of sedation. The powers he wields with the same ease a bird flies, gone in a flash. He’s now defenseless in a palace filled with backstabbing Goldweeds and their associates, and all I can do is wait.
I rip off the rest of my cape in frustration, angry at how helpless I am. Maybe I should have fought to stay at his side. Then I could have… Could havewhat? The first time I used my new powers defensively, Anatole almost sliced my hand in half. I’m lucky for the healing salve Tristan gave me, because while it’s not fixed the issue altogether, at least I feel no more pain, and he’s assured me the wound will seal quickly.
I don’t regret stepping in though. That blade was far too close to Kyran’s neck.
Fucking Anatole.
A knock on the door startles me.
“Come in?” I say, surprised I, a prisoner, am given the courtesy of a knock. Though the door isn’t even locked, because two guards are stationed close to it and would have dragged me right back in if I tried to sneak out.
The elegant handle dips, and I find myself speechless when a veiled woman enters the room, closing the door behind her. Layers of black tulle hide her features, but the design of her dress—clinging to the hips and featuring lush layers from the knees down tells me who it is.
I dart behind the desk to create distance between myself and Marquise Coralis, who never had any reason to like me. Now that she knows my promised might have had a hand in her lover’s death, she might appreciate me less still.
“Kyran was just doing his best in a tough situation!” I say to get my words in first.
I watch her every move, but in this warded prison, even my miniscule shadowcraft skills are unavailable. This also means she cannot use hers to attackme, but that’s a small consolation.
She exhales, making the front of her dark veil puff up. I only see a rough outline of her facial features when she steps into a ray of moonlight slipping in through a window, but they remain a blur, as if she doesn't want me to see her expression.
“So he’s really gone? Kyranis?” she asks softly.
I deflate under the weight of all the stress I’m going through. “I’m sorry. Kyran couldn’t tell you, you must understand that.”
“I see it now. I actually think it was kind of him to not bed me under false pretenses, just to maintain the illusion of being the same man.”
I keep it to myself that Kyran isn’t interested in women, as that wouldn’t be helpful to our case. “Kyran is a good man. And a good prince. And if only he gets the chance, he’ll be a good Lord.”
“I do hope that happens. Prince Anatole is… he doesn’t grace me with favor. So while I mourn Prince Kyranis, I’m here to help you, as what my prince promised me can also be granted by yours.Ifhe becomes Lord. But that lies in the hands of fate.” She sighs, as if tonight has taken a toll on her too. “I will be frank. Prince Kyranis banished my sister from the Nocturne Court after she rejected his advances. The accusations against her were false, and I want her back. Don’t forget my kindness when you speak to Prince Kyran.” She pulls out a little key, confusing me further.
