“Disappeared with the creature,” Cethin answered.
Razik was rubbing his jaw. “That happened with the other one too. Other than the arrowhead.” He looked around as if expecting to see it on the floor somewhere.
And for a reason he couldn’t explain, Cethin said, “There was nothing left behind.”
Razik made a grunt of acknowledgment, clearly mulling over something.
“We need to find her,” Tybalt said, as they all started down the hall. They’d locate Paesha and send someone to collect Lady Nessira’s body. “In the meantime, there is now a vacancy on the advisory council that will need to be filled, and…” Another heavy sigh sounded. “More concrete plans need to be put in place if something should happen to you until you have a partner or heir.”
Cethin’s lips thinned, but he said nothing.
He wasn’t stupid or naïve. He understood that if he were killed somehow, the kingdom would be in distress. They could have all kinds of plans in place. He could make a decree naming someone his heir if he died without one, but the truth was, there would be power grabs. All manner of beings would come out to challenge for the throne. Most of them wouldn’t have the best for Avonleya at heart.
They found Paesha, and Cethin listened while Tybalt coaxed information from her. She didn’t know why Lady Nessira had been down on that level of the castle. Paesha had heard the lady scream and went to help, only to witness the being slide a gold knife across her throat.
She kept apologizing profusely to Cethin about his laundry, as if that was of any importance. It didn’t matter how many times he told her the same, but she was clearly in shock. Niara was summoned to give her an elixir to help her sleep, while a couple of sentinels were sent to retrieve the lady’s body. They’d have to hold yet another Farewell tomorrow.
It was hours later, the first rays of dawn already breaking the horizon, when he found himself back in his chambers. He didn’t sleep. No, he sat in the same chair, finger once again steepled along his temple, toying with the arrowhead in his other hand.
Tybalt wasn’t wrong. They needed to find her.
He flipped the arrowhead again, feeling the edges scrape against his palm and draw blood. The wound would heal as quickly as the others had, nothing but small cuts and scrapes.
They needed to find her.
The morning hours slowly crept by, dawn becoming full daylight. Rays of sunshine streamed into the room, and still he hadn’t moved. All he could think about was the way those amber eyes had glared at him.
They needed to find her.
But he’d felt her before. Knowing what she was, it all made sense. He hadn’t realized it was a person and not a feeling. Something powerful. Something predatory. Something that had been watching him.
He needed to find her.
The thing was, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do with her when he did.
Chapter 3
Cethin
“Motherfucker!” Cethin growled under his breath when a black, leathery wing hit the back of his head so hard he spilled a glass of pomegranate juice down the front of his light grey tunic. Now he was going to have to change. He had meetings with his advising council later this morning, and while no one would say anything to their king, it was the principle of the matter. His father was always walking perfection, easily commanding an entire room. One would think the centuries of training to eventually take the throne would have prepared him to be the same. Turned out nothing prepared you for your parents suddenly leaving you to run an entire kingdom.
Razik didn’t look at him as he rounded the table, making his way to his usual chair at the other end of the long table. It’d been nearly two weeks since the attacks, and he’d clearly refilled his reserves completely. The fucker never walked around with his wings out, but apparently today was a special occasion, and he was doing just that.
Wren, a Fae female, took the seat beside Razik, avoiding Cethin’s eye. She was nice enough, but her closeness to the male kept them from being anything more than formal acquaintances.
Cethin had been at odds with Razik for as long as he could remember. They were nearly the same age, Razik being older than him by three years, but in terms of the centuries they’d been alive, those three years may as well be three hours. They’d gone through their Stayings long ago, both of them appearing as mortals in their late twenties, save for the slightly pointed ears.
Razik’s uncle was the Avonleyan Commander of Forces, and Cethin’s father had been the Avonleyan King until slightly under a year ago. The day so much had changed.
A day he should have seen coming, but a day that had somehow blindsided him anyway.
Cethin and Razik had been forced together for several reasons, but even with all the encouragement to form a close friendship, they were rivals. Except they weren’t competing or striving for any of the same things. Razik loathed him, and Cethin returned the sentiment. This feud between them had always been a part of who they were. Nothing could change centuries of animosity.
He went back to his plate of eggs and sausages, pointedly ignoring Razik at the other end of the table, and when the sound of several pairs of boots sounded down the hall, he held back his sigh of irritation. Those footsteps belonged to members of the Cadre, which Razik was part of. Technically, so was Cethin, but seeing as he was now their king, he wasn’t included in much of their antics or debauchery. Not that he had been as their prince either. Nobody wanted to be responsible for getting the prince in trouble, or worse, injured. Nobody wanted to be responsible for the prince, period. Then the whole king thing had happened, and the dynamics had shifted even more.
A group of mostly males entered the dining hall, voices loud and boisterous echoing around them, although a bit more subdued than usual with the loss of Valric. The two females who were part of the Cadre held their own. Cethin had sparred with them on more than one occasion, and on more than one occasion, he’d gotten his ass handed to him.
“Where’d you go last night, broody fucker?” Jarek asked, yanking out the chair on Razik’s other side and taking a seat. “Thought we had a rematch to handle?”
