Page 39 of Fallen Nocturne

“Did something happen in Astefar?” I ask.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but she squeezes my hands. “The important thing is that you seem healthy.” Her grip tightens around mine. “Are you truly all right now?”

“I am. Thanks to Landon.” Warmth spreads through my chest at the thought of him. My mate, the fae commander who somehow pulled me back from death’s door when every healer had given up. “He saved me when no one else could.”

Something flickers across Blaire’s face. It’s gone so quickly I’m not sure I saw it at all.

“Blaire.” I lower my voice and glance past her toward the vampire across the fountain. He’s watching us with those unsettling dark eyes. “What were you doing talking to the Strigon? You need to be careful around him. He’s dangerous.”

Her jaw tightens. “Is he?”

“Uncle Rainer vouches for him, but...” I shake my head. “I don’t trust him. There’s something about the way he looks at people.”

At me. A shiver runs down my spine. “As though he wants to...”

“As though he wants to what?” Blaire’s voice has gone very soft.

“I don’t know. Eat them, perhaps.” I frown, trying to put words to the uncomfortable feeling I get whenever the vampire is near.

A startled laugh escapes her. “Rhianelle, he is a vampire.”

I glance toward him again. “It makes no sense. Why would my uncle invite something so clearly dangerous into our home?”

Blaire looks at me for a long moment. Her blue eyes are filled with an emotion I cannot name. “Maybe your uncle has his reasons,” she says carefully.

“Well, his reasons are reckless.” I huff. “Promise me you’ll stay away from Arescaine. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

“Rhianelle...” She stops herself, pressing her lips together. When she speaks again, her voice is strained. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

That’s when I notice it. The bandage wrapped around her left wrist, partially hidden by her sleeve.

I catch her hand, gently pushing back the fabric. “Blaire, what happened?”

“Nothing.” She pulls her hand back, tugging her sleeve down. “I sprained it, that’s all.”

“Sprained it how?”

She attempts a smile, but it’s brittle. “I’m clumsy. You know that.”

I don’t know that at all. Blaire is many things, sharp-tongued, suspicious and fiercely protective, but never clumsy. She is a maiden of Arawynn, trained from childhood to move with the grace of an assassin.

“Blaire...”

“It’s nothing, Rhianelle.” She dismisses my concern with a shake of her head. “Please. I’m just... I’m tired. It was a long journey.”

I want to press her. I want to demand answers about her wrist, about Astefar and about whatever burden has hollowed the light from her eyes. But something in her expression stops me. Whatever happened there, she is not ready to tell me.

“All right,” I say softly. “But you’ll tell me if you need anything? If something’s wrong?”

“Of course.” Blaire gives me a small smile, though it still does not reach her eyes.

I loop my arm through hers, careful of her injured wrist. “Come on. You must be starving.”

As we walk toward the castle, I glance back once at the fountain. The Nightwalker is still there, standing perfectly motionless beside the water like a statue carved from shadow. His dark gaze follows us across the square.

Watching Blaire.

Anger sparks in my chest. Perhaps that is why he was speaking to her. Blaire is beautiful, and vampires are creatures of hunger. Maybe he wants her blood. Or perhaps he wants something else from her. Whatever his reason, he will not have her.