The Night Terror unleashed itself on Calcheth, and no one walked away.
No one.
* * *
Brela suckedin a breath as she woke to tapping on the door. Not to the room she, Farrah, and Elias had fallen asleep in. No, the knocking was somewhere distant.
Her hand darted to the table by her bed and her knives. She swiped at empty space, but she’d already been rolling out of bed. Off balance, she fell off the edge of the mattress, her knees slamming into stone.
She grumbled, remembering they weren’t in the cottage in Averlyn. Just a room twice its size in a castle far from the comforts and safety of anonymity. A trapped-yet-not-prisoner in Severina’s castle.
Brela wiped her face of sweat, pulling the damp strands of hair away from her neck as she hissed a few curses at the pain throbbing through her legs. She stood and rubbed at them, trying to blink herself awake and force the shaking out of her muscles.
Still, the knocking didn’t stop; quiet enough to not disturb Farrah in the middle of the bed. Elias must have been awake still since his head poked over Farrah’s body, his brow raised.
“Nightmare?” he asked. She nodded. “You know where you are? Who you are?”
She nodded again and answered the questions. Short and succinct, but he knew how hard words were in the first few minutes. She squeezed her shaking hands with a grunt and swallowed the bile in her throat. “Gods, I hate that one.”
The tapping continued outside as Elias shrugged, satisfied with her answers. “That better be Valkip looking for you in the middle of the night. I have a bet to win.”
The captain was the last person she wanted to see right now, not after the fury she’d seen him in as she left the office earlier. The absolute fire that burned in his eyes at her actions with the knife she’d stolen.
Brela threw an obscene gesture over her shoulder, and then wiped the smirk off Elias’s face as she yanked her pants off the ground and shoved her legs through them. Elias squished his nose in disappointment before nuzzling back into Farrah.
As if she’d give Valkip the satisfaction of seeing her half naked, wearing only his shirt. Though it might convince him to give her back the throwing knifeandNight Carver, if she even had that pull over him still.
She shuffled to the door and propped it open, staring at the man who stopped knocking at the opposite door and whirled around in surprise. He’d changed into more formal clothes, but clearly hadn’t gone to bed like the rest of the castle seemed to have done. Eyes focused on the blue shirt she wore, the collar loosened enough to reveal the shard in her collarbone.
Her voice was part rasp, part whisper as she snapped his attention back to her face. “What do you want, Serill?”
The prince frowned and gestured to the door behind him. “I thought you were staying in this room.” His eyes darted to the bed over Brela’s shoulder. Elias looked disappointed that it was the prince as he huffed, scratched at his bare, tattooed chest, and dropped behind Farrah. The prince blushed. “Oh.”
Brela gave him a tired smile. “It’s the middle of the night, Prince. I don’t know where Cason is.”
“I, uh,” Serill stammered. “He stormed back to his room after we talked with the king and he hasn’t come out since. I think he’s finally asleep after all the shit that went down the last few days.”
“Lucky bastard,” Brela mumbled, rubbing at her damp neck.
Just sweat, she reminded herself. It had been a while since that specific nightmare had plagued her, which meant falling back asleep would take a few hours. She made a mental note to find a way to thank the king for her lack of sleep. At least the king didn’t seem to know the entire truth about Calcheth. If he had known about the real Night Terror with shadow magic, she would not be alive.
The prince seemed to agree that Cason was the lucky one who got to sleep. “That’s not why I’m here, though. I was actually looking for you. I want to show you something.”
Brela raised her brow. “It couldn’t wait until morning?”
“You have something better to do?” he asked, giving a pointed look at the sweat staining the blue fabric around her neck, then smirked. “Besides, the king will be pissed when he finds out where I took you.”
Well, shit. This man saw everything, and no one gave him enough credit. “You continue to surprise me, Serill,” she said with a grin, tugging her boots on as she followed him down the hall.
“Somehow, so do you, Brela,” he replied. “I’ve never seen my father humiliated like that.”
She grumbled. “He returned the favor.”
“Not even close.” Serill shook his head. “Brela, you made everyone in that room look like incompetent idiots. You and your friends walked in with confidence, even in the face of uncertainty, and proved no one could hold the Night Terror prisoner.” He chuckled. “Hells, Boelyn is still trying to figure out how you stole that decanter of wineandhis knife without him noticing. I will never forget the horrified face he made when he realized that blade was his.”
Brela frowned. “I thought he was your friend.”
“He is, and I will tease him about it until the day I die.”
