It’s carried by the hope of friendship.
24
Solano
Emma’s colors are so vivid I do a double-take. She’s created a night of stars and a moon big enough to swallow Arin. Her home is perfect on the canvas, the blanket of night wrapping around the muted colors and promising untold secrets.
I pull the next canvas from the wall and lift it. It’s a rough self-portrait, the lines smudged, the hair not quite right, but beautiful all the same. Her eyes are sad, though. Is this how she sees herself?
Grabbing the next, I flip it around and find myself. It’s not as rough as her own portrait, but it’s not finished, either. My crown is alight; the glow so bright that it seems as if she’s captured the very essence of the sun with her brush strokes. She’s painted the king I wish to be, a fae of worth who can protect his realm against all threats. There’s more than simple paint and canvas here. There’s deep emotion that I want to touch, feel, uncover. She said she wasn’t a true artist, but she was wrong. After staring for far too long a time, I return the canvas to its position facing the wall and back away.
The creeping, cold feeling that’s been bothering me for hours returns, and I need to know where my nightling is. Turning, I start to call Anolius to help me find her, but she walks in with Tritus at her elbow, the two of them laughing. All she’s wearing is a robe. My feral wakes, its nails raking down my chest as I bolt to my feet. Sophina appears in the doorway, takes one look at me, then pulls Tritus back into the hall.
“What—” His words are cut off when Sophina slams the door.
“Solano.” Emma’s eyes light with surprise.
“Where have you been?” I try to keep accusation from my tone, but seeing her with Tritus isn’t helping. “I checked with Brunilla. She said you’d left early, but you weren’t here.”
She hurries over to me, and, despite my flare of temper, I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. I can feel that something’s off, and my ire drains away so quickly it’s as if it was never there.
“What’s wrong?” I kiss her hair. “Did something happen? Are you all right?”
She shakes her head. In that tiny movement, I catch a scent. Two in fact.
Pulling her away from me, I stare down at her. “Did Lord Caroldon touch you?”
Stepping back, she stares at the floor, her eyes hidden from me, the stale scent of her fear still strong in my nose along with the hint of the Nightlands noble. A shiver rocks her, and fire lights in my veins.
“What did he do?” I will burn him alive.
“Nothing.” She backs away. “Nothing.”
“Nightling.” I move to her and cup her cheek. “Tell me. Did he hurt you?” I’ve never felt the sort of rage that bubbles inside me now, but I keep it hidden lest I frighten her.
“No, I’m fine. Please don’t do anything.” She takes my hand. “I’m okay.”
“No, you aren’t. You’re pale and shivering.” I embrace her again, trying to wick away whatever has her spooked. “Just tell me, nightling.” A million scenarios play out in my mind—some of them innocent, others not so much. All I know is that Caroldon’s scent shouldn’t be all over my nightling. “I will make it better, whatever it is. But you must trust me. That’s all I ask.”
It takes a long while, but when her voice finally comes, it’s small and scared. “He’ll hurt my mother.”
That’s all the confirmation I need. “He will do no such thing.” I call for Captain Anolius, my voice hard.
“Don’t.” She clutches my tunic, her eyes wide. “Please.”
“Trust me.” I kiss her forehead.
“My lord?” Anolius enters, his gaze wary as he scans the room for threats.
“Lord Caroldon is banished from my realm. Escort him to the border with all haste. Inform him that he’s lucky I don’t end him. If he gives you any trouble, report back to me, and I will happily take his head.” I may take it anyway, given how rattled Emma is and what Caroldon did to the other nightlings. If it would make her happy, I’d put his useless head on a pike and let it bake at the top of the Shard’s spire, but I don’t think her bloodlust matches mine in this regard.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Also, send word to Tristano that he is to enter the night realm, travel to Moonhollow, and take—” He glances at me. “Your mother’s name?”
“Eloisa Druzy.”
“Take Eloisa Druzy and bring her immediately here. She’ll need to be warded. Tell Tristano that he’ll know her by her red hair.”
