Page 317 of Blade of the Nightking

"Rìan..." I eyed the burlap. "That used to wrap dead bodies."

He cinched the final knot and gave it an experimental tug. “Do you have a better idea?” Without waiting for an answer, he gathered the burlap and tossed it into the darkness. Moments later, a faint splash echoed up from somewhere far below.

He rose quickly, wrapping the end of the rope around his waist and tying it tight. Then he stilled.

He stared down into the well, and for the first time since we’d found it, the urgency seemed to leave him.

Finally, as though it cost him everything, he looked up at me.

His eyes were completely dark, not a single spark of silver within them, yet somehow I had never seen them hold so much. Almost unconsciously, his hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers closing around something inside. His throat bobbed.

"This is it, then," I whispered.

A muscle jumped in his cheek. "This is it."

Something in his face crumpled. Just for an instant, the strain he’d been holding back showed so plainly that he seemed almost gaunt.

“Eidra, I...”

The words died in his throat.

Instead, he held out his hand, bloodstained and upturned.

Forcing myself to move, I drew the bone knife from my belt. The pale slash across his palm was still pink where it had just healed. I set the blade against the line and sliced through it for the last time. His skin parted easily, dark blood welling at once.

I turned the knife toward myself. I was shaking so badly I struggled to hold the blade steady. My cut hadn’t closed, but I deepened it anyway.

Slowly, I laid my bleeding hand in his. Our fingers laced together without thought, fitting together as naturally as breathing.

The instant our palms met, black ink streaked across our skin. Inky vines wound over our hands and around our wrists, disappearing beneath our sleeves. Blood seeped between our palms and slipped through our intertwined fingers. I felt his pulse where our wounds touched, my own beating in time with his.

I moved to extend our joined hands over the mouth of the well, but his grip tightened around mine, stopping me. Slowly, he lifted our hands between us. His eyes held mine as he pressed a soft kiss to my bloodstained knuckles.

My lungs forgot how to breathe. All at once, every instinct screamed at me to tear my hand from his. To stop this before it was too late. But before I could move, Rìan reached our clasped palms over the mouth of the well.

At once, the stone beneath my boots began to tremble. The shaking spread through the square in gathering waves, rising through my feet and rattling deep into my bones.

Darkness exploded from the depths, black wind tearing around us with an unearthly scream.

It struck Rìan first.

A dark tendril shot forward, spearing into his chest. He jolted at the force of it, his fingers crushing mine as it vanished inside him. Then, almost as quickly as it had entered, it ripped free.

His eyes flashed silver.

Something gave way between us.

A wall I hadn’t known existed simply... vanished. There had been no hint of it, no resistance, nothing to suggest it was there—until everything it had held back came crashing into me at once.

Torment… Anger… Frustration… Despair…

Emotion after emotion slammed into me, too wild and tangled to separate.

Fear… Regret… Grief…

But beneath it all was the longing. So much longing. Terrible and raw and real.

It wound itself around his heart, tightening with every beat, each pulse carrying the same desperate want.