Page 54 of Blade of the Nightking

Across the chamber, Aedric stood silently beneath the large clock mounted to the wall, his gaze fixed upon it. I couldn’t read the symbols upon the clockface, but Aedric had told me we would arrive at the edge of the Dusklands long after sunset. At last, he stepped away and crossed toward the hearth. It roared to life at his approach, flames blazing so bright that for a moment I had to squint against the sudden light after the dimness of the chamber.

He glanced back at me, half his face swallowed by shadow, firelight cutting across it in shifting slashes of gold and dark. He held out a hand. I laced my fingers through his, the heat of his palm startling against mine, almost uncomfortably warm with the magic banked inside him.

“There should be no issues skelding this time,” Calantha said from behind us, her brisk tone carrying easily through the chamber. “The gateway remains open between our Courts. But I’ll refrain from snuffing the flames here for a few minutes, just in case.”

“I’ll send word at dawn that we arrived safely,” Aedric said over his shoulder.

Calantha gave a curt nod.

The clock struck the hour.

Aedric’s grip tightened around mine. He caught hold of Hamish’s forearm, and at once Hamish hauled Veylan roughly to his feet and shoved him ahead of us. A shield. Though with Rìan absent from the Court of Dusk, I wasn’t entirely certain what danger Aedric expected.

Veylan stiffened as Hamish pushed him toward the hearth, the rest of us falling into step behind him. The flames towered high, wild and ravenous, their heat so intense it kissed my skin almost painfully. And suddenly I was back beneath dragonfire, trapped beneath blistering light and impossible agony, the smell of my own burning flesh choking the air as pain swallowed everything whole. My pulse stumbled hard. Every nerve in my body seemed to remember. Fear gripped me so suddenly I almost stopped walking.

Aedric’s thumb swept once along the back of my hand.

“You’ll be alright,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest approximation of a smile. “My fire won’t harm you.” His fingers tightened around mine. “I’ve got you.”

Somehow, impossibly, the panic eased enough for me to keep moving.

But Veylan faltered. His feet scrabbled weakly against the stone as he instinctively tried to recoil from the heat and light. Sweat beaded across his forehead, dampening the white strands at his temples as Hamish forced him closer.

“Don’t worry, dog. Nothing to fear.” Aedric grinned wolfishly. “Unless Hamish lets go.”

A strangled sound tore from Veylan as his feet crossed into the hearth.

In one smooth movement, we stepped through the flames and skelded to the Court of Dusk.

We emerged into darkness.

The fire behind us dwindled almost immediately, collapsing from a raging inferno to little more than a modest flicker, casting the chamber into shadow.

It was colder here than in Solmire, enough to raise gooseflesh across my arms. The air carried a clean, briny scent I didn’t recognize.

Then came the sound.

It drifted in through the closed windows, as constant as breathing, distant and softened by the glass. A low rush, followed by a muted break and a long, whispering retreat, only for the rhythm to begin again.

Waves?

Despite myself, a thrill stirred in me. I turned toward the windows, trying to peer beyond them. But the darkness kept its secrets, swallowing moon and stars alike, revealing nothing of what waited beyond the glass.

The only waves I’d ever known belonged to the half-dead lakes of the mortal realm — shallow things caked in mud, their waters pulled thin by drought, fish bloated and rotting along the banks. Their waves had been pitiful little things, barely more than ripples when the wind turned cruel.

This was different. This sounded… alive.

Where in the gods’ names were we?

Calming my racing heart, I forced my attention from the windows and looked around the chamber instead. Graceful arches swept high overhead, carved from veined stone, ghostly in the dimness. Tall windows and terrace doors lined the outer wall, curtains hanging limp around them.

At the far end of the chamber sat a raised dais, and upon it, barely visible in the dimness, loomed the shape of a throne. I could make out almost nothing of it from here beyond its silhouette, all jagged edges and impossible height.

But it was the absolute quiet that unnerved me most. The chamber was empty. No servants rushing to greet us. No guards standing waiting. No sign that anyone expected our arrival at all, despite the message we’d sent ahead.

In front of me, Veylan collapsed. He dropped hard to his knees as his legs gave way beneath him. He quaked with the effort of remaining upright, breath coming in harsh, rattling pulls as the iron fed greedily upon his magic.

Hamish merely tightened his grip on the chains and said nothing.