Page 14 of Blade of the Nightking

“Give me back my knife.” My voice was shockingly steady.

He bared his teeth. “Come with me, Eidra, and perhaps I'll return it.”

“Never,” I snarled.

His eyes—normally an unearthly silver—dimmed. The glow ebbed out of them in seconds, leaving them shadowed beneath his brow. It was somehow more unnerving not to see where he was looking, though I could feel his stare through the dark, raising the hairs along the back of my neck with its intensity.

“We had a bargain, Eidra.” His voice was low and smooth, every word a threat.

Before I could react, a ring of fire burst into existence a stone’s throw away, its sudden brilliance searing through the night. The flare blinded me for a heartbeat, stars bursting across my vision.

Two figures stepped through the flames.

“Aedric!” Hamish’s deep, familiar voice boomed, and relief cracked through my chest like ice giving way.

I whirled back toward Rìan.

He was gone.

A shaky exhale tore from my lungs, my fury collapsing inside me.

“Here!” I called out.

I dropped to my knees beside Aedric. His eyes were closed, his body limp and frighteningly still. I pressed my fingers to his throat⁠—

A pulse. Strong. Steady.

I folded over him, emotion crashing through me as I pressed my head to his chest and breathed in his familiar scent. Burning amber. Rain on stone. Smoke in the distance.

Hamish stepped into the clearing, Malec’s lithe form just behind him.

“Elowen—” Hamish stopped short when he saw me. His eyes widened in shock as he took in my healed body, the iron blade in my hand, and the faint glow still clinging to my skin.

“Rìan,” I managed to whisper. “Rìan was here.”

Malec froze, his eyes sweeping the tree line as if the Dark Prince might lunge out from the shadows. If Hamish felt any fear, he didn’t show it.

He stepped toward me and wrapped his large, battle-scarred hands around me, hauling me to my feet. His gaze raked over me, his brow carving deep lines of concern and confusion as he searched for wounds that no longer existed.

His eyes narrowed when they reached my shoulder, where the sleeve of my dress had burned away. With his thumb, he brushed at something on my skin—and his frown deepened.

I turned my head to see. For a heartbeat, I caught it too: a swirl of black ink, curling like a faint tendril of smoke. But it had to be a shadow—nothing more—because the moment Hamish leaned closer for a better look, it vanished completely.

He grunted, and Malec moved in immediately, lifting me into his arms with surprising ease. For someone so slight, he was shockingly strong. Hamish bent low and lifted Aedric over his shoulder, Aedric’s arms dangling limp down the length of his back. He gave a curt nod, and Malec flicked a hand, conjuring another ring of fire to skeld.

Hamish clasped his forearm. I looped my arms weakly around Malec's neck and buried my face against him as we stepped toward the fire. I flinched as the flames rose around us, instinctive panic tearing through me. Fire had nearly killed me, and now it closed over my skin again. My muscles seized, bracing for agony that didn’t come.

Instead, it licked gently at our bodies—nothing like the violent inferno that had ripped me and Aedric from Solmire. This heat was soft, almost welcoming, as it pulled us through. I closed my eyes tightly, forcing deep breaths to steady myself.

Suddenly, something twisted deep in my stomach, right below my ribcage—where my magic usually curled up to sleep. A quick tug, sharp and sudden, like an animal jerking on the end of a snare. And then I felt it again—that faint whisper at the back of my mind.

A brush like fingers along the inside of my skull.

But it was gone before I could be sure.

CHAPTER 4

We stepped out of a massive hearth. For a wild, impossible moment, I thought we’d returned to Solmire. The vaulted ceiling, the soaring fireplaces, the long sweep of the space all mirrored the Great Hall so precisely that I blinked to anchor myself.