“What would a spoiled, selfish,monsterknow about—”
“Everything.”Niko surges to his feet with a hiss so fierce, my words die in my throat. He leans in close enough, I can smell the rum on his breath. See the glacial rage icing over his features, fracturing to reveal the inhumanity lurking beneath his polished exterior.
His ribbons shoot from him like arrows, stopping only a hairsbreadth from my throat. His shoulders rise and fall rapidly, and his eyes are wild and dark against his pale skin. His lips peel back from his teeth in a snarl as the air pulls taut between us.
I should be terrified. Of his otherworldly rage, of his malevolent power.
But as I stare up at him, it isn’t fear that winds through me. It’s something more like velvet; like the beckoning call of the wind over a night sea. Something that speaks of darkness and pain, of selfish want and horrible regret. A sharp, painful tug somewhere near my heart pulls a breathy sound from my lips, as I study him and realize with certain horror there is something in the Carrion King my soul recognizes.
And if I’ve found a mirror in a monster of death, it can only mean one thing: I’m a monster as well.
Niko blinks wildly like he’s waking from a trance. He sucks in a sharp breath, stepping away and pulling his power with him. He turns his back to me, as the ribbons lash around his wrists and slither up his biceps. The muscles in his neck tense and his jaw tightens, like he’s holding back a snarl. For the first time, I don’t wonder what his power feels like to others—but what it feels like tohim.
When he finally turns back around, the rage has given way to a deadened grimace. Avoiding my gaze, he nods to Adira, who’s watched the entire exchange with only a glint of mild curiosity. “Is it her?” he grits out, his voice sounding like it’s been dragged over gravel.
An unbidden shiver slides down my arms.What does he mean ‘is it her’?
Adira frowns. Perhaps her condition causes heightened empathy, because she may hate Niko, but she also appears to understand something of him. It isn’t quite pity in her eyes, but something near to it. “It isn’t entirely clear yet, Niko. There are too many paths and too many colors to decipher. I’ll need more time, but there’s a good chance it is.”
Niko grits his teeth and nods wordlessly. The ribbons slither around his tapered waist, his body so rigid, I don’t think he’s breathing. For an absurd moment, I have the urge to touch my skin to his—to calm whatever is raging through him. The urgewars with every other instinct in my body telling me to run; telling me he's dangerous. A wounded animal that will lash out the moment I get too close.
Before I can untangle the thoughts, the pink-haired bartender flits up the stairs. The delicate features of her face are pinched in terror, her translucent wings fluttering wildly at her back as her eyes frantically search for Niko’s.
“They’re in the harbor, Your Majesty! At least twenty of them! They’re burning the ships!”
The pixie’s fear radiates through the room in cold, sweeping waves, even as she hurtles back down the stairs.
The air of the room stills, the only movement the exaggerated rise and fall of the king’s shoulders. When he finally looks back, I nearly lurch backward at the sight. His ribbons slither and crawl up his throat, wreathing his face in pestilent swathes. The pits of his eyes are somehow deeper, the fathomless black iced over with fury. If I thought Niko was terrifying before, it is nothing to the sharp viciousness of him now.
“Take the carriage and get her back to the Lunaedon,” he says in a low voice. There is no edge of panic, only the cold command of a king. “Now.”
I expect Adira’s resistance to being ordered around, with her hatred of Niko and her own royal status, but she only nods solemnly, a wary glint to her eyes the king doesn’t see. He’s already begun down the stairs, his black cloak billowing behind him.
I stare at the place Niko vacated, his looming presence leaving an echo of him in the air.
“What’s happening?” I demand, unease prickling down my spine. “Who’s in the harbor?”
Adira nods to the gladius at my hip, and I unsheathe it without hesitation. The pommel is warm and some of my residual panic ebbs away at the feel of a weapon in my hand. I’ve spent yearslearning to clear my mind of distractions; to focus on survival and worry about everything else later.
The princess dips her head in approval and grabs her spear. “Stay close,” she tells me. “They’ll mostly be after the children, so long as they don’t realize who you are. And let’s hope to the star above they don’t.”
“The children?!” I repeat in horror.
Adira doesn’t answer, only meets my gaze with her own. “If you’re going to survive Letum, you must understand one thing and understand it well.” She sucks in a rattling breath. “It is better to be dead than taken prisoner by a Strayed.”
Chapter ten
The city is in chaos as Adira and I duck out of the tavern and onto the cobblestone street. Smoke billows from the harbor, obscuring the vibrant colors of the night sky in muddied shadows. When Niko and I first arrived at the Pixie’s Hollow, I’d thought it was odd how many ships were anchored in the harbor—so many the water is hardly visible—but now I see it for the true nightmare it is. Flames leap from deck to deck, crawling up masts and sails, eating up vessel after vessel in seconds.
Screams pierce through the roar of fire as Adira grabs my arm and steers me toward the carriage. I try to gather my bearings, to see past the destruction and find a path to freedom while the king is distracted, but the princess’s grip is surprisingly strong. She whips open the carriage door just as something explodes nearby, rattling the world around us and throwing us to the ground.
I scramble up, my heart lodged in my throat, as another blast tears through the city. The Pixie Hollow’s sign sways wildly as the quaint buildings lining the harbor reverberate with theimpact. It’s the last thing I see before Adira shoves me into the carriage and slams the door.
Neither of us say a word, our labored breathing the only sound as the carriage lurches forward. There are no horses pulling it, nor any visible engine, but I don’t take the time to wonder how the carriage moves. I’m only thankful it does. Whatever is happening in the city—whether it’s a power struggle against the Carrion King’s rule, or something worse—I have no interest in getting involved.
“What was that?!” I demand breathlessly, laying the gladius over my lap.
“The Strayed,” Adira replies serenely. As volatile as the last few minutes have been, Adira doesn’t appear to be at all winded. Indeed, she doesn’t even seem slightly upset, going so far as to shoot me a small, unnerving smile.
