Page 101 of Blade of the Nightking

Running. Squats that left my legs spasming uncontrollably. Endless stance corrections. Lunges. Balance exercises that usually ended with Segolayne shoving me sideways just to prove a point.

By the time she finally called for a rest, every muscle in my body screamed in protest. I collapsed onto my back on the mat, chest heaving.

Segolayne, infuriatingly, looked fresh as ever, her short black hair still sleek, slicing across her jawline.

“You need to strengthen your legs and core,” she tutted. “Right now you’re about as solid as an overcooked noodle.”

“I get it,” I gasped.

Segolayne slid her boots back on, balancing effortlessly on one leg at a time with the poised ease of a heron standing in shallow water.

“I would’ve thought a lifetime spent running from Tharnyx’s undead would’ve left you with more to show for it.”

The words hit harder than the training had. Before I could stop them, the memories surged forward—the stench of the Infection thick in the air, bodies burning outside the strongholds, severed heads rolling through muddy streets, my father⁠—

I shoved the memories back down violently. Kept my expression neutral.

“It was better to hide,” I said evenly, wiping sweat from my face with my forearm. “The Plague-Hunters usually dealt with them for us.”

One of Segolayne’s brows arched with interest.

“Plague-Hunters?”

“Sellswords,” I said, struggling to sit up. I reached for my boots. “Mercenaries hired to protect the strongholds and towns. Coin, lodging, food…” I shrugged tiredly. “Whatever they demanded.”

“What if you had nothing they wanted?”

“Then you died.”

“Hm.” Segolayne tilted her head thoughtfully. “How very enterprising.”

I fixed her with my best death stare as I pushed stiffly to my feet. “So we’re done, then?”

She inclined her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?” I repeated, aghast. If my muscles ached this badly now, I doubted I’d even be able to stand by then.

“Every day,” she said. “Until Rìan decides otherwise.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered.

“I don’t understand why you find it so dreadful.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I find it rather generous, actually, that he’s taken it upon himself to make you a little less useless.”

“Very generous,” I said dryly.

She gestured for me to walk ahead.

By the time we reached the ornate double doors leading into the royal apartments, my legs were trembling from the walk alone. The doors swung open soundlessly before us, and Segolayne strode inside without waiting for me.

That morning, in the darkness before dawn and in Segolayne’s rush to drag me down to the training chamber, I hadn’t spared the Dark Prince’s quarters more than a passing glance. But stepping into it now, in the full light day, the sheer grandeur of it was nearly breathtaking.

Warm light spilled through towering panes of glass, catching on dark wood, pale stone, and soft woven rugs in muted shades of charcoal, cream, and deep sea blue. The ceilings rose high overhead, crossed with dark exposed beams. White sheets draped most of the furniture, yet even beneath their coverings, the place was breathtaking.

Rooms unfolded one into the next—an enormous living area large enough to host a gathering, a formal dining room, and hallways branching toward bedchambers and bathing rooms.

Another glass door opened onto a private courtyard. Moss climbed between weathered stones, and flowering vines crept lazily up the walls. Segolayne pulled the door open and waved a hand, as though personally inviting inside the cool fragrance of salt, rain, and the stubborn summer blooms that thrived along the wind-beaten coast.

Then she strode through the apartments, catching the dust sheets and stripping them from the furniture one by one. Beside the picture windows overlooking the sea, a long, low couch emerged beneath its covering, piled high with thick cushions that looked dangerously inviting. Another sheet fluttered away from a pair of plush armchairs flanking an enormous black stone hearth veined faintly with silver. At the dining table, she tugged the last linen free before running an assessing finger across the surface. She held it up to the light, inspecting it for dust. Finding none, she hummed in satisfaction.