Page 290 of Blade of the Nightking

Logs were added to the flames, and laughter rose with the sparks into the night.

The Bone Mother beckoned me to sit at her right, Saskia settling to her left. Bowls were pressed into our hands before I had time to protest, mine piled high with wild rice, roasted roots, mushrooms, greens, and generous chunks of roasted meat.

The Bone Mother caught my hesitation.

"Chicken," she said, amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes.

The knot in my stomach loosened. I was grateful for the Bone Mother's consideration.

I hadn't realized how hungry I was until the first bite. Before long I'd scraped the bowl nearly clean, using thick, warm rounds of coarse bread to mop up every last drop of the rich gravy.

My head swayed to the rhythm of the drums, my skin flushed from the bonfire despite the threadbare shift Saskia had loaned me for the evening.

The bond pulled tightly as a shadow fell across us.

“Bone Mother.”

I stilled at the sound of his voice. Slowly, I lifted my head.

Relief struck me with such force it almost hurt.

He looked... well. His dark hair had been combed back from his face, still damp from washing. Someone had mended and cleaned his shirt, which he’d buttoned high as usual. He was a little pale, the last traces of the ordeal still etched in the shadows beneath his eyes, but he stood tall and steady. Alive.

The Bone Mother looked up and gave a disapproving huff.

“You should be resting, Prince.”

The corner of Rìan's mouth curved.

“How am I supposed to rest with all this damned noise?”

A laugh escaped the Bone Mother, and she gestured for him to sit. Saskia leaned forward at once, pushing a clay bowl into his hands. He inhaled the aroma of the roasted meat and gave an appreciative grunt before tearing off a piece of bread. Just as he was about to scoop up a mouthful, he paused.

Leaning slightly toward me, he lowered his voice.

"It's not the Brinnekin, is it?"

The familiar scent of leather and charged storms drifted over me, and the bond between us stirred warmly beneath my ribs.

"Chicken," I murmured with a grin. "I hope."

His eyes met mine and held for a heartbeat, something silent and comfortable passing between us. Finally, he dipped his head and took a bite.

He demolished the first bowl in moments. Before he'd swallowed the last mouthful, Saskia was already reaching for it. Without asking, she filled it again.

By the time he finally slowed, he'd emptied three bowls and drained an entire earthenware jug of water. Only then did the color begin to return to his face. I told myself the tightness easing in my chest had everything to do with the festivities around us—and nothing to do with the fact that he was sitting beside me.

I focused my attention on the celebration, trying not to look at the way his long fingers drummed in time to the music, or the way the firelight chased the shadows across his face.

The Bone Mother reached over, resting a weathered hand on my knee before turning to Rìan.

"You're certain you won't stay a few more days?"

His expression sobered at once. "It's best we continue on our way as soon as possible."

She studied him for a long moment, then clicked her tongue in obvious disappointment. Her gaze drifted beyond the fires, toward the wall of bones surrounding the village.

"Saskia will lead you tomorrow," the Bone Mother said. "She'll take a handful of our women. They'll guide you into the mortal realm unseen."