Page 51 of Blade of the Nightking

“If I arrive at Levinica’s Court surrounded, she’ll feel cornered.” Aedric drummed his fingers impatiently on the tabletop. “I don’t want this to look like political pressure. I need her cooperation. If we go in force, she’ll assume I’ve come as a threat. She’ll tell us nothing.”

Errol cleared his throat, his scarred face tightening in thought. “Even so… there is no even footing with Levinica. Not truly.” He hesitated. “If Neeken were still alive⁠—”

Aedric’s fist struck the table with a crack that echoed through the chamber. I flinched.

Errol fell silent at once. The others exchanged uneasy glances.

Neeken had died months ago, slain by the Rask in the Thornlands. He and Aedric had been close—that much had always been clear. Not merely lord and soldier, but something more. Friends, perhaps even as close as he was to Hamish.

I placed my hand over Aedric’s forearm, the instinct to comfort him rising instinctively. His free hand closed over mine at once, grounding himself in the contact. He exhaled, the tension easing.

“One of you will come,” he repeated at last, addressing the room. Then his gaze settled. “Hamish.”

“Hamish?!” Calantha squawked, gripping the armrests. “Why him?”

Aedric huffed a quiet laugh, some of the earlier strain slipping from his shoulders. “Because he’s the better choice.”

“He is not!”

“At the very least,” Malec drawled, “El doesn’t hate him.”

“She doesn’t hate me!” Calantha snapped.

“I do, actually,” I said flatly.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she fixed on me across the table, and while the others hooted with laughter, I found no humor in it. The lightness of their reactions unsettled me—as though what she had done to me, the pleasure she’d taken in it, the fear she’d carved into me, was no more serious than children squabbling.

How could that be a joke to them?

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing my expression still as she blinked at me.

“Veylan will be kept in iron,” Aedric said, cutting through the moment. “Hamish is the only one among us who can manage the collar and chains. It makes the most sense.” He leaned back, tapping a thoughtful rhythm against the table. “He’s the least threatening among us. Most Fae overlook him because he has no magic. Levinica will do the same.”

My eyes drifted once more to Hamish.

A mountain of a male—broad, imposing—and at first glance, there was nothing about him that should have inspired comfort. He looked fierce, formidable… anyone who didn’t know better would find him terrifying. And yet, he was a good male with a good heart—with or without magic.

He caught my eye again and held it.

“I would be honored to accompany you,” he said quietly. But it wasn’t Aedric he was speaking to.

“Excellent.” Aedric clapped his hands once.

The chamber doors opened. Sairus swept in, his robes trailing behind him, his expression curdled with contempt. His collar sat high against his throat, concealing the burn Aedric had given him, but the stiffness of his posture betrayed the insult.

“What is this?” he asked coolly, his gaze sweeping the room.

“A secret meeting, of course,” Aedric said, smooth as drawn steel.

Sairus’s mouth tightened. “Apparently.”

“Aedric will be skelding to the edge of the Dusklands with Elowen and Hamish,” Calantha said quickly, straightening in her seat at once. “To return Veylan to Levinica. We’ve already sent word.” Nothing about the bond.

“A traveling circus across Elantis,” Sairus said dryly. “How quaint.”

Aedric gestured to the empty seat. “You're welcome to join us.” His smile was courteous enough, but there wasn't a trace of warmth in it.

“How generous.” Sairus’s tone turned silken. “But I bring more pressing matters than returning a stray to its mistress.”