Page 12 of Blade of the Nightking

“Ah,” he nodded. “Succinct.”

He crouched beside me, his silver gaze roaming over the burned side of my face.

“You hate me, Eidra, and that’s understandable. I have earned your hate. I tricked you, I betrayed you, and I used you. But it had to be you—and no one else. Only your magic, shaped by the Moiraithe, could release me. You were the only creature strong enough to undo what had been done.”

“The Veil…” My breath labored. Maybe he didn’t know it had shattered—maybe he could still fix it. “It… fell…”

“Eidra,” he interrupted, his mouth curling faintly down. “I was the Veil. The Veil was me. Don’t you understand that?”

The words rang in my ears. Nausea flooded my gut in a violent rush. I knew he’d betrayed the bargain I’d struck with him, but no—I still hadn’t understood. I’d thought releasing him would allow him to fight Tharnyx, to stop the Infection, to save us all. I hadn’t realized he was the very barrier holding the Bone-Wrought back.

By freeing him, I had unbound the prison that held the Firstborn. All of them.

The monsters were loose in Elantis because of me.

My eyes squeezed shut. Hot tears slid from the corners, tracking down my temples into my hair.

“One last chance,” He said through gritted teeth, rubbing his chest absently. “Take what I’m offering, Eidra. It’s right there if you just reach up and take it.”

His magic made a slow, taunting sweep through my mind. My own stirred within its tomb, too weak to rise and fight back.

His clothing rustled as he rose. He looked down at me for a long moment, disgust limning his face. “Very well, Eidra. If you choose to be useless, so be it. At least you won't die alone. Your precious mate will join you soon enough.”

My eyes flew open as he turned toward Aedric.

“No…”

He bent, bracing his hands on his thighs as he peered into Aedric's vacant stare, his lip curling with undisguised loathing.

“There is so much—so much—I wanted to do to you,” he hissed through his teeth, like an asp spitting venom. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for three hundred years, you snivelling, two-faced bastard. I had such plans for your suffering. And yet…” He glanced at me over his shoulder, his features hardening. “Nothing will ever surpass the pain you inflicted in life. Lucky for you—my specialty is death.” His silver gaze flared. “Let’s make yours count, shall we?”

Aedric’s breath simply… stopped.

“No…!” The cry ripped from my throat.

Aedric’s face flushed almost at once, his chest hitching in shallow, useless jerks. His fingers spasmed.

Rìan watched him for a long, measured moment, his eyes still blazing. “I daresay you have something that belongs to me, Flamelord.”

Aedric’s lips parted, terrible staccato sounds forming in his throat as his body struggled to breathe. He was going to die beside me while I lay useless, limp, broken, unable to do anything but watch.

Pure panic detonated inside me.

“Aedric—Aedric—” His name was nothing more than a shredded whisper.

Rìan didn’t even look at me. His eyes flicked back and forth, unfocused, skimming something only he could see—rifling through Aedric’s mind.

“Where is he…” he murmured. “Where is he… where is he…” Each repetition sharpened, frustration crackling beneath the words.

Aedric’s lips were turning blue.

“Please,” I choked. “Please—stop—please⁠— ”

He didn’t react. Didn’t even seem to register my voice.

And still I felt that cool leash of his magic present in my mind, holding back the pain, muting it just enough for me to stay conscious and witness everything. It slithered through me, invasive and cold, a tether I hated and needed in equal measure.

Aedric’s body convulsed.