Page 129 of Blade of the Nightking

I shoved it down without another thought.

CHAPTER 26

Do you enjoy being useless?

I slammed the doors behind me and retreated straight into the bedroom. Fully clothed, I climbed into bed and pulled the blankets over my head. A moment later, scratching sounded on the other side of the door. A soft, raspy mewl followed.

I squeezed my eyes shut and ignored it.

Again came the scratching. Again the pitiful little cry.

But I couldn't make myself move. I lay curled tightly beneath the blankets, trying to shut out the world while my body trembled uncontrollably beneath the heavy covers.

Gods, I wanted a drink.

The craving hit like a physical blow. Sweat dampened my skin even as chills wracked my body hard enough to make my teeth chatter. My stomach churned. Every nerve screamed for numbness—for the heavy warmth of wine to drown all of this out.

Weak. Coward.

I curled tighter beneath the blankets.

Rìan was right about me. Gods help me, he was right.

I'd felt almost invincible earlier when I'd managed to throw him off me. For a little while, I'd actually been proud of myself.

But in a real fight? Against someone who truly wanted me dead? I wouldn't stand a chance. The only useful thing I'd learned that morning was how to create enough space to run. Not fight. Run.

The frightened rat scurrying for cover.

Dimly, I became aware that the pillow beneath my cheek was damp.

Pathetic.

Sometime later, the apartment doors opened. Wheels rattled softly over the floor as servants rolled breakfast carts inside and quietly arranged dishes in the dining room beyond.

A gentle knock came at my bedroom door. Nadja, most likely, but I didn't answer.

Later still, I heard the servants leave the apartment altogether. By then, the kitten had stopped scratching. Nadja must have fed it. Probably let it into the courtyard.

Self-loathing washed over me so fiercely my chest ached.

How useless was I, that I couldn't even care for a half-starved kitten?

It wasn't until night had fallen, and the servants had come and gone a third time after laying out dinner, that I finally pushed myself upright. I shuffled to the dining table and poured myself a cup of tea, ignoring the platter of grilled fish and roasted vegetables. The rich smell turned my stomach.

I pulled open the glass doors overlooking the bay, and frigid wind swept immediately into the apartments. I snatched my cloak from its hook and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders before carrying my tea outside.

I sat and watched the sea.

My tea cooled quickly. Before long, my cheeks stung from the wind, my nose ran, and my fingers had gone so numb that I set the cup aside and tucked my hands beneath my thighs, trying in vain to warm them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the kitten slink out onto the terrace. It gave a luxurious stretch, arching its back and flashing its claws before wandering toward me.

“Hello, little monster,” I murmured.

It answered with a soft meow before hopping neatly into my lap. Absently, I began stroking it. Its fur was unbelievably soft beneath my hand, its scrawny body radiating warmth like a miniature brazier. Almost immediately, that deep, steady purr started up again.

I let out a slow breath. “I’ve had a bad day,” I told it quietly. Then I gave a hollow little laugh. “Maybe a bad life.”