Page 7 of Nocturn

Then—he left.

The same direction he’d dragged me in from. He simply . . . left.

With nothing, no looking back, no words. Nothing.

Like I was less than the scum on his boots. He disappeared around the bend and finally I could breathe. A hard gasp escaped my throat. I stumbled back; the chains clinked together before stopping me in place. The length was less than my height. I reached for the collar he’d snapped around my neck, my hands trembling as I felt around and tugged. The hard edge dug into my sensitive neck until it hurt, and it did nothing to soothe the throb in my chest.

Piper’s distance would ache more and more the longer she was away from me, but it would be manageable as long as it did not cross a moon rotation . . . Otherwise, it would mean my death.

She must be terrified, and I could do nothing to help her—comfort her. My lungs constricted to drag in more breaths, but even that was hard. I dropped to my bottom as if there were strings holding me upright that had suddenly been clipped.

When my Sigil appeared, I knew nothing good would come of it, but the reality of the cold, fanged king with evil eyes was much worse.

I tucked my legs up to my chest and watched the doorway. My only hope was that Piper had managed to stay hidden.

CHAPTER THREE

Anticipation

Islowly touched the scabbed-over scratches across my legs. Dawnlight had come and fallen twice with no sign of the Warlord, so it allowed me time to unravel.

I wish my end could be quicker than this, to get it over with because all this thinking would drive me mad. I eyed the spike sticking up from the cold, hard ground. If I were brave, I could end it now. Death by impalement instead of this waiting to be the Vessel for the Warlord’s bondmate. The iron tip of the spike was cold to the touch. Not a surprise since my body was icy from being on this floor. I could not feel my legs any longer.

“I would not do it,” a soft, lilting voice warned. A young woman shuffled in with a limp to her gait, arms hugging a tray hosting a single loaf of bread. “Kill yourself, that is.”

I stared without saying a word. Once dawn broke through the sky, she came as reliably as the dawnlight.

“I would not,” I murmured, studying her.

These were the first words she’d spoken to me, despite my efforts to coax answers from her the first time she came. For a while, I’d believed she was mute. As Miriam’s companion, I’d been privy to various events my blueblood family was invited to, so I had brief encounters with Mute Ones serving at those gatherings. The act of removing the tongue was common practice for redbloods who attempted escape.

She reached me and held out the silver plate with a single bread loaf. I was quick to reach for it. Last time she brought it, I hadn’t grabbed it in time and she’d tossed it on the floor.

“Giving up now that your wraithling has been captured?” I stopped mid-chew. They found Piper. Even if I knew we could not be separated longer than a moon rotation without dire consequences, I hadn’t wanted her in the Kingdom’s clutches. “I would not suggest impaling yourself. His Highness would resurrect you to punish you.” Why did she sound gleeful delivering the crushing news?

The Warlord’s ability was . . . unnatural and frightening. All her words succeeded in was to pull me back to the present, rousing the urge to do something. Piper could not stay trapped. I could not let them keep her caged. She hated confined spaces as much as I did.

“I have to relieve myself,” I blurted, looking up at her. Her lips flattened. It wasn’t completely false, but I had plenty of experience holding those urges as a lady’s maid.

Standing caused the chains to rattle and clink. “Please.” She turned, ignoring me. “Or I can soil the floor where I stand.”

She sighed and fished into the pocket of her dress. So she’d had the option to take me to the toilet chamber this entire time. She crouched next to the spike. A thought so abhorrent and violent flashed through me, making me physically recoil. If I slammed her down, it would go right through her face . . . A mouse crawled out from under her wavy hair, perching on her shoulder to watch me as she unlocked the bolt connected to the ground.

Chains clinked, and she stood with the end of it in hand. Without saying anything, she guided me out of the ostentatious chamber and into the hall. Every swing of the chain matched her uneven gait as she guided me out, the metal rasping against the collar fastened around my throat. It was eerily silent, not one scream or howl to rip through the night.

“Do you know where they’re keeping my wraithling?” I asked.

“No questions,” she snapped. “Or you go back.”

“Apologies,” I mumbled, flattening my lips.

Every step I took raised my nerves, but I matched her stride as she led me to the main floor of the foyer. The two large doors leading outside were shut. A slim frosted window above the frame allowed light inside. If I could just escape . . . A woman rounded into the foyer from the left, holding folded sheets within the big basket. She started up the steps.

Seeing her stopped me from attempting to bolt. Then she was out of view as the servant girl pulled me through the opposite alcove. The hall stretched on, but she guided me through a small passage that led to a staircase.

Why is it so dark?

I descended, trying not to panic at the walls closing in around me. After what felt like eons, we reached the base and it stretched in both directions to a line of doors. She poked her chin out toward the first one.