Page 127 of Blade of the Nightking

My thoughts raced back over the morning. Nadja had led me straight to him without the slightest hesitation. Shouldn't she have been terrified of the Dark Prince who'd cut out her tongue? Veylan had greeted me outside the training chamber as though nothing had changed. There had been no servants shrinking from the shadows. No sign that Noctharis feared its monster's return.

Why wasn’t he staying in the royal apartments?

“They don't know you're back, do they?”

His expression darkened instantly, like storm clouds swallowing the sky.

I was right. “That's why you're staying in the library instead of the royal apartments.”

He said nothing.

“And the men who attacked me…” My pulse quickened as the pieces continued to fall into place. “You could've stepped into their minds. Stopped them before they ever drew their weapons. But you didn't. You didn’t want to risk them seeing you.”

His jaw tightened.

“You're hiding.”

He turned fully toward me, a snarl pulling at his mouth. “I'm not hiding.”

Again, I’d thrown him off balance. A vicious satisfaction coursed through me. I’d found the crack in his armor, and I couldn’t resist digging into it.

“Then why doesn't your own Court know you've returned?”

In two strides, he was before me, silver sparking angrily in his eyes.

“You will not mention me,” he growled. “Not to Nadja. Not to anyone. Understood?”

“Or what?” I shot back, lifting my chin. “You'll carve my tongue out like the others?”

For a long moment, he simply looked at me.

“Keep testing me,” he said quietly. “And I just might.”

I glared back, but said nothing.

“Now.” He turned toward the weapon wall. My stomach dropped the moment he reached for the bow.

He held it out toward me. I didn’t move.

The dull roaring started in my ears immediately at the sight of it—the elegant curve of the polished wood, the taut string stretched tight between the limbs. I could practically feel the familiar motion already: draw, aim, release.

My hand refused to move.

Rìan arched a brow. “Take it.”

I couldn't.

Every remaining scrap of exhilaration from escaping his hold dissolved in an instant, leaving only dread behind.

With visible impatience, he shoved the bow into my hands. I stared down at it numbly while he crossed the room and mounted a painted target against the far wall.

“Perhaps the distance yesterday was daunting for you,” he said, adjusting it into place. “You can work your way up to moving targets later.”

His voice barely penetrated the pounding in my ears.

That wasn't the problem. But I’d sooner die than tell him the truth.

He returned carrying a quiver and planted it beside my feet before withdrawing an arrow and holding it out to me.