Page 81 of Blade of the Nightking

A strange fragment of power, foreign and immense, untouched by whatever war raged around it. My magic caught upon it instinctively, wrapping around it, drawing it upward.

I screamed and hurled it in a blinding surge, desperate to tear Aedric free⁠—

It slammed between them.

The world snapped back.

I hit the floor hard, pain flaring through my skull as my head struck the tile. The chamber tilted, split—two, three versions of the room sliding over each other—and in all of them Hamish was there, grappling with Rìan, their bodies blurring together.

Hamish?

The room slid back into place at the same moment Veylan’s shadows released me. They coiled around Levinica’s waist and shoulders before wrenching her backward, pulling her swiftly out of harm’s way.

I didn’t hesitate. I scrambled to Aedric’s side, the edge of my vision smeared with the warmth of blood trailing down my face. Aedric’s eyes were vacant. Fixed on nothing.

“Aedric!” I shook him. No response.

Hamish slashed for Rìan, his blade a blur. Silver flared in Rìan's eyes. He slipped effortlessly beneath the strike, already moving before Hamish's sword had even completed its arc.

Veylan watched with a faint smirk, his shadows curling around him. Layne leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a hungry gleam in her eyes. Neither of them tried to interfere.

“Aedric!” I shook him again, harder. He just stared, hollow and unseeing.

I reached for my magic—but it wouldn’t come. It sank deep, tight and unresponsive, leaving only an angry, burning absence in its wake.

Rìan's eyes flashed again. Hamish's blade cut through empty air. A heartbeat later, Hamish was on his back, pinned beneath Rìan, his own blade poised above his face. Hamish seized Rìan's wrist, every muscle straining to keep the point from descending.

I was moving before I realized it. I snatched the knife from Aedric's belt, the iron whispering free of its sheath.

The blade inched lower, Rìan's strength slowly overpowering Hamish's. The tip hovered a hair's breadth from his eye.

“Enough!” My voice rang out. Levinica screamed.

Rìan froze the moment he saw the dark blade I held to my own throat.

My father’s face—the swift slash, the spray of blood, his body crumpling—darkness blooming across the snow, staining it, staining it…

Veylan straightened in his corner, the shadows billowing threateningly around him. Segolayne pushed off the wall at once, her own knife tight in her palm. But Rìan thrust out his free hand in their direction and they both stopped at once. They were fast—but too far away to stop me. And Rìan knew it.

“Let them go,” I said as steadily as I could, “Or I’ll open my throat and end us both.”

The silver in his eyes flicked toward Aedric and then back to me. But still, he didn’t move.

Anger flared through me hard enough to cut through the fear. I drove the tip into my skin and bit back a gasp as the hot iron kissed my throat. The blade was so sharp I barely felt the cut itself at first, only the searing heat of the metal, the terrible burning that swallowed everything else. Somewhere beneath it, warmth slid down my skin.

“Stop.” His voice cracked through the room like a lash.

I dragged the blade back a hair’s breadth, enough for the agony to ease into a savage sting.

“Release him,” I growled.

Slowly he retracted the blade, inch by inch from Hamish’s eye. He rose smoothly and stepped back, every line of him taut with barely leashed fury.

“Aedric too.” I kept my eyes on him, not daring to look away, not even for a second.

Slowly, Veylan’s shadows loosened, slipping from Aedric and drifting back toward their master.

“I meant his mind.”