Page 93 of Blade of the Nightking

“Get out of my sight.”

I forced myself up and crossed the room without looking back, my chin high and shoulders squared. Even as my chest felt like it was caving in.

The doors shut soundlessly behind me. Only then did I let it catch up to me.

Useless.

Illiterate.

Drunk.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling a sob as the words replayed in my mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

What hope did Aedric have?

What hope did I have?

Rìan was right—Useless. In the human realm, I’d been valuable—my curse, my ability to sense the Infection before it spread… that had been my worth. But here, without the Bone-Wrought, I had nothing to offer. No skill. No strength. Not even my magic.

Among the Fae, I was nothing.

Aedric had wanted me from the moment he saw me—but was it truly me he wanted? Or was it simply that he couldn't bear to lose his mate twice? What could I possibly give a lord like him when I couldn’t even coax a spark from my own magic?

And now, after what I'd done to him, his only hope of healing lay in the hands of his enemy—the monster of Elantis—who wanted him restored so he could find his nephew, reclaim his full strength, and rid himself of the burden of me. There was nothing I could do to save Aedric. And nothing I could do to stop Rìan.

I didn’t remember deciding to move.

One moment I was pressed against the wall, and the next my legs were carrying me forward, through corridors and chambers, past the silent servants. Something inside me gave way.

The doors opened. The guards watched me pass, but no one moved to stop me.

And before I knew it, I was outside, walking away from the castle.

CHAPTER 19

Noctharis was a run-down sprawl, the city a tangle of narrow streets and leaning stone buildings that looked as though they’d once known better days.

The traces of what it had once been were scattered everywhere I looked—ornate arched doorways, facades that still hinted at old wealth, ornate metalwork gone green with age. It had been a place of importance once, a city that had mattered, perhaps even grander than Solmire in its prime. But now the decay was everywhere, in the crumbling stone and the people alike—rough-hewn, shabby, and worn thin.

I wondered if these Fae, with their impossibly long lifespans, had lived here when it had been great, and had watched its slow decline. I wondered where the joy had gone after they’d been freed from the monster who’d nearly conquered Elantis—whether it had simply faded with time, or if the state of the city was a quiet punishment for the fact that Rìan had once made his seat of power here. Had Elantis turned its back on this place because of it? Allowed it to wither, year by year, until this was all that remained?

Or was it Levinica? Had the gradual unraveling of her mind seeped into the bones of the city she ruled?

There was destitution here. A heaviness that hung in the air. The people carried it in the deep lines carved into their faces.

I walked and walked, not daring to speak to anyone or even meet their gaze. No one approached me, though one woman barked at me to move as she shoved a cart of thin, salted fish over the worn cobblestones, her voice as rough as the street beneath her wheels.

No one spoke of Rìan.

No one said his name. There were no whispers, no furtive glances. The Fae of Noctharis carried on as though nothing had changed, as though his return meant nothing at all.

The air was biting without the sun. I wondered if it was ever truly warm here, as it had been in Solmire. Still, it felt clean, bracing. I drew it into my lungs, and it steadied me somewhat, clearing the worst of the wine from my head and quieting the tremor in my hands—though it did nothing to lift the weight pressing down on my shoulders.

Old docks stretched into the harbor, their wood silvered with age. Ropes creaked softly as fishing boats rocked against their moorings, their hulls patched and worn, nets piled high across their decks, ready for the morning's catch.

If there was a way out, it would be on one of those boats. I studied them, wondering whether I could slip aboard unseen, hide well enough to make the crossing without discovery. I had no coin to offer, no leverage to bargain with. Only the hope that I might go unnoticed. Could fishing boats even make the journey to the mainland? I knew nothing of boats. Even less of the sea.

The night shifted beyond the harbor, gray clouds thickening in the distance. What had first seemed like haze began creeping inland, fog rolling low over the water before curling along the docks and slipping into the streets.