Page 112 of Plug and Drain

He sat rigidly in the chair, his muscles sore, his senses on high alert as he listened for any sound, his bleary eyes darting around his office. There was no one there, but the room felt wrong, the atmosphere disturbed. Dust particles floated in the air, glimmering in the golden light, which stretched to warm his thighs through his trousers.

The rest of him felt cold, his veins pulsing as his ears strained to identify the intrusion.

Someone was coming.

He was on his feet a second before the office door sprang open. Nathaniel stood there, his face stricken with barely-concealed panic. He spoke in a hollow tone. “He’s coming.”

That was all he said.

Arken nodded stiffly as dread spread through his body like icy water, freezing his spine, dulling nerve endings, and spreading until the frost had hardened his heart.

Nathaniel stared at him a second longer, his gaze conveying without words what only a lifetime of friendship could.

Good luck. Be strong. Be prepared.

And, if things do not go well…

Farewell.

It had been a long time since Nathaniel had looked at him like that.

Nathaniel retreated and shut the door. Arken turned to face the far corner of his office, where there was a set of ornate double doors that had once belonged to a built-in wardrobe. The elegant doors were smooth and creamy, with faint ornate patterns and a soft surface sheen that captured the morning light, turning the glossy pink surface orange. They connected Arken’s office to a terrible place on the edge of the Capital: Wintermaw Keep.

Magic hummed in the air.

Arken stared at the black iron handle, a crude modification that betrayed the otherwise friendly appearance of the doors.

As he waited, his hand clenching and unclenching as he tried to ease the tension seizing up his muscles, it occurred to him that perhaps the academy was a terrible place too.

He’d just never quite thought of it that way before.

His pulse slowed as he felt the danger draw near, and he assumed a mask of calm as he tried to reassure himself.

It had been so long since those doors had opened. He’d thought…

He’d forgotten…

He’d fooled himself into thinking there would be no more visits.

He had done nothing to disobey, nothing to provoke. He had been loyal. He had always done as directed.

But perhaps the King had sensed the betrayal of his heart, and his mind, as he’d stood outside the inn, gazing longingly at Susie as he lost himself in deep contemplation.

Slowly, the handle depressed.

Time stopped, the moments dragging painfully.

The doors silently opened wide, blocking the light of the windows on either side. A tall, imposing figure emerged, swathed in velvety black robes. He resembled Nathaniel, but every angle was sharper, his cheeks hollow, his chin pointed, his eyebrows thinner.

His pale grey irises were barely visible against the milky white of his eyes, and his thin lips curved in a subtle smile as he set eyes on Arken.

He smoothed his blond hair in an elegant motion before clasping his slender hands. They were pale and outlined with prominent tendons and muscles, the long, bony fingers deathly adept at strangulation.

“Arken,” Henrikk greeted, his words bleeding into the room with the unsettling warmth of a fresh kill. “My faithful subject. I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting you.”

Chapter 28

Restless