“Pet?” Eraldon watches.
I don’t remove my hand. The burn feels almost good. Almost like it clears my head a little. But it muddles it, too. I have glimpses of Solano, my enemy. But in the glimpses, it almost seems as if he’s being kind to me. Are they false memories planted by his witch Grimelda? Why do Ifeelsomething when I see him in these visions? And not revulsion like I should. It’s something else. Almost … longing. And each time, I sense a pull, a slight tightening of an invisible thread that runs from me all the way to—
“Pet.” Eraldon grabs my arm and yanks my hand away from the barrier. It’s charred, the fingers blackened and melted together. “I need you at full health if we’re to take the Keep.” He bites his wrist and offers it to me.
“I want to feed off others.” I hate that my fangs lengthen, that I crave the black blood welling along his skin.
“Only me.” He reaches out and grips my hair, then pulls my lips to his wrist. “I told you, pet. Other blood could contaminate you, make you sick. My blood is the best thing for you.”
I want to fight him, to fly away and find a mortal to drain, but I also want every bit of him. After all, he’s a king. Why would I turn down such a gift?
My bite is quick and shallow, and I drink him down. My mind quiets. Eraldon is right. Why would I ever want another? He’s my king. I should be so lucky as to welcome him into my bed and between my thighs.
“We strike the Keep at the next crescent moon.” He strokes my hair with his other hand. “Less than a fortnight. We’ll take it, turn the nobles, then march for the Daylands.”
I swallow a mouthful of him.
“I know what you need, my pet.” He keeps stroking me. “I’m the only one who can give it to you.” With a yank, he pulls me from his wrist. “Don’t you want to be my queen?” He stares into my eyes.
“Of course.” I say the words, but am I the one saying them? The dream tempts me again, the promise of warmth and the heat of golden eyes.
“Then you shall be.” He kisses me, sharing the taste of his blood.
I should thrill at his touch, at the sensation of his tongue against mine. But yet.But yet. I feel nothing. Empty.
He pulls back and licks his lips. “Let’s get back. We have more planning to do and more nightlings to turn. I want as many seekers as possible when we march toward day.”
“Does Lex have enough power to ward them all?”
He shrugs. “Her spell has warded me, and by extension the seekers who are bound to me.”
“Why did she ward me separately then?”
“You, my pet, are something different.” He smirks and looks me up and down. “In any case, the ward she cast on me should grant all seekers of my line some protection as long as I endure. She’s powerful enough to make good on it. But if some perish, what of it?” With a leap he takes off, his strong wings beating back the night as he soars down and then back up like a beautiful carrion bird.
I follow, and though I’m still getting used to my wings, I’m at least able to glide on the wind. Gaining altitude is difficult, the ache in my joints and along my wingspan growing with each strong flap, but I do it. I keep doing it despite the pain, because I want to be strong. For Eraldon. For my king.
Soon enough the night realm will be ours, and then we’ll take day. I’ll tear the Shard of Day down with my bare hands, destroy it to dust. Solano must pay for what he’s done. My mother dances through my mind as I skirt the edge of a cloud. Her silver streaks, her way with a needle. Then I remember the phrase “bloom of my youth,” and for the first time in what feels like a very long time, I smile. Until I remember who took her from me. Who murdered her and so many others.
Solano.
I grit my teeth and fold my wings in tight, then plummet straight toward the ground. The wind whistles in my ears, singing a tune of warning, but I ignore it and shoot like a dying star toward the forest below. When I’m with Eraldon, the world makes sense. Our plans are perfect. But once he’s gone, I feel that vast nothingness. It’s as if I used to be filled with something, and now I’m drained dry. Empty. When I actually think about the feeling, it engulfs me.
I don’t want tofeelat all.
But I do.
Something inside me is trying to die. It’s wounded, hurt beyond all imagining. Twisted and poisoned. What is it? Why do I feel this way? I should be happy. Eraldon will make me his queen. I will get revenge on Solano and tear down his palace built on lies. This is what I want. But I can’t shake this feeling, this … wrongness. And it’s coming from inside me.
I keep hurtling toward doom.
Tears stream from my eyes and tickle my ears before whipping away into the night.
“What am I?” I scream the words right as I decide not to stop, as I decide this uncertainty has to end.
But then I feel it again. The tug on the invisible string that’s embedded beneath my left rib and connected to … To something out there I can’t name.
And as the trees approach, I fling out my wings and catch the air, slowing myself before I tumble through branches and land in a pile of pain and sorrow.
