Page 54 of Fate of the Sun King

His dark eyes perforate the haze of my terror, reminding me he will go to the ends of the earth to make this true for me. I don’t deserve him. I’ve never deserved him.

I nod slowly, doing my best to believe him.

“Etienne, think,” he says. “Where might they hide her?”

“The warehouses or the river docks,” he says. “There are plenty of abandoned buildings where they might have concealed themselves.”

My jaw clenches so hard that my teeth are on the verge of collapse. How could he have been so careless? How could I have been so careless? I should have double-checked myself before letting her anywhere near this place.

“What if they’ve already removed her from the settlements?” Tristan asks.

“I’ll signal the others to question the gate guards for anything suspicious,” Etienne says. “But this late at night, the gates are closed, and they don’t let anyone in or out. There’s more than a good chance they’re keeping her here until morning. Or until they can get a message out.”

Our eyes meet, and no one says what we’re all thinking. A message to the king. But which one? Some instinct tells me it’s my father. This has his stink all over it.

“Okay, then do it,” I say to Etienne. “Mael, you go with him and search the docks. Tristan, we’ll head to the warehouses.”

Everyone nods, and Etienne and Mael jog off while Tristan and I head in the opposite direction.

We haunt the shadows as we prowl past the buildings. It’s probably best not to attract too much attention in the event more of my father’s men are about. We need to get out of here and as far away as possible.

The deeper we wind through the narrow streets, the quieter it gets. It’s clear this is an area best avoided at any time of day, but especially at night. Tristan and I look at one another and nod.

“Do you have a weapon?” I ask. Tristan pulls out a dagger from his belt. I’m not sure how skilled he is, but it will have to do. If he’s anything like Lor, then he at least knows how to hold his own in a fight. “Be ready to use your magic.”

Quietly, we stalk down the increasingly narrow streets, the towering buildings blocking our view beyond a few feet, casting long shadows where anything could be hiding and waiting. I try to focus over the panicked thoughts tumbling through my head. Listen for any hints or sounds of life or movement. I should be able to feel her if we’re close enough. My magic responds when she’s near, but we’ve always been in somewhat tight proximity when I’ve felt it.

Her name repeats on a loop in my head, over and over.

Lor. Where are you? Lor. Please be okay. Please be alive.

If anything happens to her, it will destroy me. Nothing will put the pieces back together if my father gets his hands on her. I’ll be a shattered crystal statue, ground to nothing but razor-sharp dust.

Our heavy breaths mist in the cold night air as we wade through the darkness, which feels like a thick wool blanket closing around us. Why does it feel like these shadows are alive? I pray with every part of my soul that Mael and Etienne have already found her, but I also want to be the one who eviscerates anyone who dared touch her.

Zerra, how they will bleed rivers of red.

And fuck, I’m going to enjoy every second.

We round another corner, and that same unnatural darkness surrounds us. There’s no doubt magic is at work here. It feels off, though, because I’m unaware of any power my father possesses to create shadows like this. I can barely see anything through it. I blink a few times, but it’s no use.

Taking a calculated risk, I allow some of my magic to slip out, forming a glowing ball to light the way. But it’s muted against the dark like a bright window dampened by a thin cloth. What is this? My only consolation is that it must mean we’re close to her. Why else would someone use magic to conceal this area?

We turn another corner, and I blink again, wishing I could see better. It’s like walking through layers of black gauze. Tristan stumbles next to me, and I instinctively reach out a hand to steady him, finding his arm.

“Thanks,” he mumbles in the dark, but it’s too loud in the stillness.

“She has to be close,” I whisper, hoping it doesn’t sound like a cannonball blasting through glass.

We round another corner, feeling blindly, using the walls to guide us, the darkness practically choking me. And that’s when I feel it.

At first, it’s faint, a weak thread of a voice I know like I know my own heart.

Nadir. Nadir. I’m here. I’m here. Find me, please.

Someone starts screaming. My name. Her muted echo bounces around in my skull, begging me to find her.

And then I start running.