Page 250 of Blade of the Nightking

An unexpected ache opened inside me. I didn't want him to go.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, I turned to face him.

In the soft glow of the room, we simply looked at one another. His gaze caressed my face, tracing the curve of my cheek, pausing for the briefest moment on my parted lips. My heart pounded so fiercely I could feel it in the soles of my feet.

I let myself look too. I filled my eyes with him—the proud line of his nose, the dark curls at his temples, the fullness of his mouth. Not the feared Dark Prince. Not the villain of whispered stories. Here, that man didn’t exist.

He broke the moment first, dropping his gaze and shaking his head as though to clear it. He took a step back, then another, retreating toward the door.

"Goodnight, Eidra," he said.

"Goodnight, Prince."

He huffed, a small, private smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He liked the way I said it—without contempt.

He dipped his head. When he lifted it, those dark eyes collided with mine one last time, silver flecks scattering like stars in an endless night.

And I drowned in them.

CHAPTER 52

When I woke the next morning, he was already gone. The door to his bedchamber, across the hall from mine, stood slightly ajar. When I peeked inside, the bed was perfectly made, the sheets drawn taut enough that not a single wrinkle disturbed the linen.

Beside it, a large glass of water sat untouched on the bedside table, a folded piece of parchment propped against it.

Curiosity got the better of me. I slipped inside, noting as I crossed the room that his blades were all gone. I picked up the note and unfolded it.

Gone “sightseeing”. For your headache.

I didn't realize I was smiling until I lifted the glass to my lips.

My eyes lingered on his cramped, slanted scrawl. He'd left me a message, never questioning whether I'd be able to read it. Somehow, that unspoken faith warmed something deep inside my chest.

I took another sip of water before it dawned on me that he'd left the note in his bedroom instead of the sitting room. Which meant he'd anticipated I’d come snooping through his things the moment he was gone.

Even without dreamwalking, he read me with infuriating accuracy.

The servants arrived shortly after with carts laden with smoked fish, fluffy scrambled eggs, and fruit that gleamed like cut jewels. Every time I reached for something, someone was already there—pouring my tea, buttering my toast, replenishing my plate. By the time I'd finished eating and set aside my embroidered napkin, the same servant with the bronze collar who'd helped me dress the day before stepped forward.

In her thick, musical accent, she informed me that Thalassis was waiting to receive me in the observatory before leading me back to my room.

She crossed to the wardrobe, her gaze thoughtfully skimming over the dresses there before settling on one the blue of cornflowers. The skirts skimmed my ankles in loose, flowing folds, while a gold-embroidered cord drew in the waist. She brushed my hair until it gleamed, leaving the dark waves loose over my shoulders before pinning one side back with a delicate seashell.

While she knelt to lace the sandals, the leather straps winding in neat crisscrosses up my calves, my gaze caught on my reflection in the mirror.

The soft blue suited me, the gold cord drew in my waist, and my loose hair framed my face in effortless waves. I looked lovely.

And strangely vulnerable.

My gaze settled on the bone knife lying atop the side table.

"Could I have a moment?" I asked.

Once the servant had gone, I hitched up my skirts and buckled the sheath high against my thigh, tightening the straps until the knife sat secure. Hidden beneath the folds of fabric, it disappeared from sight.

Smoothing my dress back into place, I slipped from the room after her.

She led me through the palace, pausing only to bow low whenever we passed a noble or courtier, until at last we reached an open chamber where a spiral staircase curved upward along one wall.