Page 131 of Blade of the Nightking

Veylan stepped soundlessly from the deepest shadows of the corridor, as though he'd been part of them all along. “Especially not by the likes of you,” he added dryly.

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “As if you weren't already lurking there.”

He pouted. “I don't lurk.”

“Take me to Levinica.”

He blinked at me, as though the request had genuinely caught him off guard. “No.” He turned, already melting back into the shadows.

“It’s important!” I blurted.

That stopped him. Slowly, he half-turned back toward me, his profile sharp against the guttering lamplight. “Important how?”

“I remembered something. Something she needs. About Dannis.” The lie curdled in my stomach, but I didn't let it reach my face.

His storm-colored eyes slitted. For one long moment, I was certain he saw straight through me. Then, at last: “Follow me.”

He turned without another word and set off down the corridor at such a brisk pace I nearly had to jog to keep up. We wound through endless hallways and large, open chambers awash in silver-blue moonlight. Up one staircase. Down another. Across a bridge suspended between two towers. Through a quiet courtyard where water murmured from a cracked fountain shaped like a crescent moon embracing the sun. The castle unfolded around me like a labyrinth.

When we finally reached a pair of enormous carved doors, Veylan didn't bother knocking. He pushed them open and strode inside.

Silk curtains hung limp while crystal lanterns suspended from the ceiling cast muted light across plush ivory carpets. Everything was washed in gold, pearl, and soft cream. A fire burned quietly in an enormous white marble hearth.

And there, seated beside the darkened windows where the bay should have been visible beyond the glass, sat Levinica. I stopped short.

She looked terrible.

Her eyes were distant, unfocused. The delicate planes of her face were hollowed by exhaustion and grief, her skin pale and almost waxen. Even her long dark hair—usually so soft and luminous—hung dull around her shoulders, despite clearly having been brushed and carefully tended.

That awful pull slowed my steps—then stopped me dead when I saw him sitting beside her.

Rìan.

He leaned toward her, murmuring, his voice a low, deep rumble that sounded almost gentle. One of Levinica's gloved hands rested loosely in his. But Levinica herself remained utterly still, her fingers limp in his grasp, as though she barely knew he was there.

Segolayne stood rigid against the wall, concern and sorrow marring her usually disdainful face as she watched her mistress in silence. A fresh stab of shame went through me as my gaze caught on the pale pink scar lancing across her face.

Rìan’s head snapped toward me. Levinica didn’t react at all.

He released her hand and rose to his full height, his expression turning lethal. “Get her out of here.”

Veylan dipped his head. “She said she has information. About Dannis.”

Rìan stilled. Slowly, his attention returned to me, his eyes flashing dangerously. “What information?”

He took a threatening step toward me. The knife at his belt caught the firelight, the eight-pointed star carved into its bone hilt unmistakable even from across the room.

My knife. The one my father had given me.

I pressed my lips together, swallowing the anger threatening to spill free. He'd stolen it from me the night I'd released him from the Veil.

His fingers rested against the hilt, the firelight casting shadows across the hawk-like angles of his face. He looked less like a prince than death itself.

Before I could say a word—the kitten exploded out from beneath my cloak.

“Shit!”

I fumbled for it instinctively, but the little monster tore free and bolted across the carpet. It skidded to a halt the moment it spotted Rìan. Every hair on its body puffed outward as it arched its back and unleashed a furious volley of hisses and spits.