I drank greedily as I dropped my pack, then let the straps slide off my shoulders, feeling the sting of cut skin where they’d cut too deep. I’d never hiked before, never carried a pack this heavy, and apparently, after three years of living in relative luxury, my body wasn’t accustomed to this level of strain.
Though to be fair, we were all a mess.
Fine, black dust coated us from head to toe, glittering with specks of mica, sanding my sore eyes, grinding between my teeth. I took another deep pull of water, swished it around my mouth and spat out a stream of gray, grainy liquid.
Ryland shed his pack, his cloak, corded forearms flexing as he lifted his waterskin to his lips. Damn my eyes, drawn to the criminal sight of tan, muscled skin glistening with mica dust, of that powerful throat moving with every deep swallow.
Once, I’d kissed that throat. Listened to deep, purring growls nestle inside that wide chest, my ear pressed tight over his racing heart.
Once, I’d imagined us spending our lives together,until…until…fuck. I yanked my gaze away from Ryland Storme and his unfairly sexy forearms, blowing out a shaky breath.
I had to pull my head out of my ass and get back in the game, because after a shaky start, I was inside enemy territory and I hadn’t even died.
Besides, the Shadowlands were one of the most magnificent sights I’d ever seen.
Onyx sand dunes stretched endlessly beneath a slate gray sky, while in the distance, mountains forged by ancient cataclysms thrust into the clouds. Those toothy peaks were scarred and broken, rising like a line of silent sentinels. Now that we were beyond the roar of the ward, the air hung heavy with silence, only a few errant breezes stirring sand up into dark, fleeting spirals.
I’d never seen anything like this. A place of stark, haunting beauty—where the world felt unmade, untouched by time, stunning in its isolation.
“The main road is that way.” Ryland pointed west, but his gaze remained fixed south, where steep black roofs caught the afternoon sun, shredded black flags flapped from wicked, pointed spires that jabbed upwards like sharpened knives.
My mouth fell open. Through the spindly cover of the trees, the two tallest towers shot upwards from each end of the fortress, so thin they didn’t even seem real, with small, slit-like windows at the tops. The place looked inherently evil, as if it had been carved from shadow and malice.
I didn’t know what I thought I’d find here, but it wasn’t a cursed city, peaks as jagged as the mountains framing those whipping banners.
“That is Evernight, ruled over by Lord Venmir Gravelock.” Ryland’s quiet tone held an edge. “We’ll be avoidingthat place at all costs, unless you want to end up hacked apart on Lord Butcher’s table. Let’s go. The city is this way.”
“Lord Gravelock,” I repeated, remembering him as the monster who tried to buy Anaria as his bride. “Lord Butcher? Do you mean Gravelock is the Butcher of Evernight?” I’d only heard stories of that monster, then dismissed every one as too brutal to be believed.
Ryland and Varian looked at each other, then me, suspicion darkening their expressions.
“The Butcher preyed upon the Fae armies,” I explained. “A horror story that popped up once a year or so, tales of soldiers disappearing from their tents, their naked, butchered bodies found drained of all their blood, covered in a thousand wounds, mouths still open from screaming.”
They’d called him the Butcher of Evernight, but once the kings were dead and the war ended and Anaria became queen, I’d never heard of him again.
If he’d been hiding here all along…
I stared down at the fortress, my mind slippery with horror at what might have happened to Anaria if she’d been brought to this black castle. If not for Tavion’s intervention, our queen might have ended up as Gravelock’s wife.
Or one of his victims.
“How could you possibly know Lord Gravelock?” Ryland asked carefully, his body still, like he was waiting for me to reveal some huge secret. “I mean,” he seemed to fumble for words. “It’s just…”
Varian answered before I did. “I heard he forged an alliance with the Shadow King before the king’s unfortunate…removal from power.”
“Yes, I saw him at a few court audiences. Three years ago, and only a handful of times.” I took another long, hard look at those black spires that sucked up every drop ofsunlight. “He tried to buy Anaria as his bride. To bring here.” I swallowed, my sore throat burning. “Thank the gods he didn’t succeed.”
But my mind turned over this new information.
Why had Lord Gravelock wanted Anaria in the first place?
He had pursued Anaria with a single-minded purpose I’d found strange, at the time. And the Shadow King had willingly sold his daughter to a dangerous, deadly male he’d never trusted. Fae lived a thousand years. They had plenty of time to play long, drawn out games and their infinite patience was legendary. Had Gravelock been making some subtle play for the throne, only to be thwarted?
Or was something more insidious at work?
Could Gravelock be…the prince?
Fuck.Nowthatwould put an interesting twist on my mission.
