Page 90 of Blade of the Nightking

“This part of the bay is treacherous,” she said. “The undertow will take you before you even realize it. You'd be swept out and under before you could do a thing about it.”

I fixed her with as much irritation as I could manage. “Are you here for a reason?”

She shrugged, though her grip on my arm remained firm as she pulled me back toward dry sand. “Rìan wants to see you.”

“And here I was thinking you’d all forgotten I existed.”

She smirked. “You’re not that lucky.”

She bent to scoop up my discarded shoes, knocking the sand free before setting them down for me to step into. Grit still clung to my wet feet, scraping against the leather with every step. The hem of my dress hung heavy and damp around my legs as I tried to walk in something resembling a straight line.

“You smell like the bottom of a wine barrel,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Only the best for the Prince,” I replied, false sweetness coating every slurred word.

We walked in silence to the library, and despite the tremor in my hands and the nausea rolling through my stomach, I found myself almost grateful for the distraction, even if it meant enduring Rìan and his entourage. Until now, I had been useless—unable to help, unable to move us any closer to breaking the bond—and the helplessness had been maddening. Worse than that was the waiting, the endless stretch of idle hours while I remained trapped in a foreign court, kept like some ornamental pet, as time passed without progress.

The corridor tipped alarmingly beneath me, and I lurched sideways, catching myself clumsily against the wall with a muttered curse.

“Charming,” Segolayne sniffed.

I swore again, louder, for her benefit.

She snorted. “If you weren’t the enemy’s little plaything, I think I’d almost like you.”

“There’s only one enemy.”

“I agree.”

My hands curled into fists. “You’re not a handmaid, are you?”

A sly smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Not remotely.”

I slowed, then stopped. “Who are you?”

“What does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, I suppose.” I glared at her. “I can always keep referring to you as the traitorous bitch who betrayed us to Rìan.”

She blinked once, then let out a harsh, cawing laugh.

“Well, well—some teeth. After seeing you mooning over Aedric, I was beginning to think Rìan had bound himself to a spineless nit.”

I bristled.

“But then again,” she went on, looking me over with open disdain, “to be Aedric’s mate… it’s not surprising you’re a two-faced whore.”

“Say that again.” The angry step I took toward her wasn’t steady. Or as threatening as I’d hoped it would be.

“Please,” she waved, almost bored. “I’m relieved you found the dregs of courage at the bottom of a bottle, but don’t think for one second I won’t knock every tooth out of your pretty little head before you take another step.” She paused, then added lightly, “Rìan wouldn’t give a fig. But I don’t imagine your vain Lord of Flame would appreciate a gummy smile.”

She lifted a finger and made a small circling motion, urging me to turn forward and keep walking.

Reining in my temper, I pivoted and strode ahead.

“Segolayne of House Thren.”

I didn't stop or look back, but her stride lengthened until she fell into step beside me.