Page 22 of Blade of the Nightking

“I don’t know.” My voice broke. “I don’t know.”

Sairus’s gaze slid to Aedric.

“You mean to use this Eidra to strengthen our power?” He scoffed. “She can’t even properly wield her own. Perhaps you’re right about her after all.” He flexed his fingers. “Allow me.”

Black fire suddenly flared before him, gathering into a concentrated tourbillon like a small tornado before suddenly piercing through the male’s chest and vanishing. The body arched, the faerie’s face stretched in a silent scream, a horrible gurgling sound rising in his throat, and then… nothing.

His form went slack. Lifeless.

“A merciful death, my Lord, for one who suffered so,” Sairus sniffed.

Dark red began to seep slowly from the faerie’s ears, nostrils, and mouth, dark and viscous against scorched skin. More welled at the corners of his closed eyes, slipping downward in dark trails while the same awful fluid spread through the back of his trousers in a widening stain. Heavy drops struck the tabletop with sluggish, sickening taps.

I stared, horror rooting me to the spot as understanding slid into place.

Gods.

Sairus had melted his insides.

Hysteria clawed its way up my throat. I whirled on Aedric, eyes wide, but he was already looking at his uncle, rage simmering beneath the surface, sparks flickering dangerously across his fingertips.

“Get out.” His voice dropped to a whisper ripe with the promise of violence.

Sairus inclined his head and rose.

CHAPTER 5

His hold around my wrist bordered on painful, his skin blazing hot against mine as he pulled me through the corridors of Dheren's fortress, Hamish following close behind. Not once did Aedric look at me.

I’d failed him.

When it had mattered—when he’d depended on me—I hadn’t been able to call even the smallest spark of my magic forward. I’d been helpless while that male suffered.

And worse—I’d made Aedric look foolish in front of Sairus, who’d relished in the fact.

Without warning, something slammed into me.

A torrent of emotion crashed through the bond between us, so violent and overwhelming I nearly stumbled beneath the assault. Rage. Frustration. Fear. Desperation.

Not mine.

My head snapped toward Aedric. His expression hadn't changed. His face was still carved from stone. But beneath that careful mask, everything inside him was in chaos.

And I could feel it.

I barely had time to register the impossible assault of emotion before the stone passage ended, opening onto a bridge suspended above the heart of Dheren.

The citadel was carved directly into the side of a rock face. Entire buildings rose vertically from the cliffside, stacked and terraced, bridges and walkways spanning dizzying gaps between them. Stifling heat clung to the air, thick and damp, pressing in on my skin. My head tipped back, strength draining from me suddenly as I saw⁠—

There was no sky.

The darkness overhead wasn’t night at all, but solid rock. A cavern ceiling stretched impossibly high above us, jagged and uneven, studded with stalactites that caught the light and glimmered faintly with quartz. As we moved into the open air, the distant roar deepened and swelled, no longer muffled, unmistakable now. The glow bathing the city came from below.

Far below.

A river of molten fire wound through the chasm like an open wound in the earth, a blazing vein that snaked into the depths beneath the city as though hell itself had split open at the seams. It pulsed and flowed, the source of that constant thunderous sound, bathing everything in an eerie orange light.

Soldiers were everywhere.