Page 31 of Dark Fate

I pin the faerie with a piercing look. "You're certain the oafs won't stir?"

Meadowflashes a wicked grin. "But of course! Those dullards are out colder than winter's grasp after the sleeping draught I brewed." She preens proudly. "Why, they'll not wake if the whole west tower came crashing down!"

I let out a grunt, unimpressed by her puffery. But she wasn't bullshitting about knocking out the guards. This is our shot to bail out of this rat hole. I'll shred this court to rubble once I'm free of this cursed neck trap. And when I’m done, when my rage hits like a storm, we'll see who’s left shaking in their boots.

I barrel past, nearly bowling the slight girl over in my haste. She yelps, skittering aside. Fumbling with her ring of stolen keys,MeadowunlocksLucian's door next. He explodes out in a blur, landing inches from her startled face.

"Boo!" He chuckles at her startled squeak. "Easy there, Tinkerbell. No need to wet the fairy dust on my account."

Meadow's expression hardens slightly, though she holds her composure. "Why do you seem so... different?" she asks, her tone measured yet inquisitive, seeking to understand the enigma before her.

Lucianbarks another laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Different? Moi? Why, whatever do you mean, my dear little pixie stick?"

I silence him with a cutting glare.Meadowcautiously averts her gaze.

"The library,Mouse," I prompt sharply. "And swiftly. Dawn approaches, and I've languished in this fucking stink hole long enough."

We flit phantom-like through the winding corpse bowels of this wretched castle. The air lies thick and cloying, saturated with decay's subtle taint beneath all the elaborate trimmings. No amount of plush rugs or glinting goldwork can mask the creeping rot festering at this court’s writhing heart.

Up ahead,Meadowprances nimbly through pooled torch glow, slipping between shadows with practiced ease. Guess when you’re indentured to tyrants, learning to make yourself scarce becomes a handy skill.

Luciantrails her, chuckling under his breath. He is undoubtedly already delighting in visions of mayhem poised to erupt from this half-cocked escape. He is always easy to entertain when it comes to wreaking havoc.

Meadowstops at the base of a narrow spiral staircase, disappearing into utter blackness above.

“My Lord, the eastern library. The book you need is said to be perched right at the top shelf, against the back wall—a real relic with pages yellowed by time, wrapped in dragon skin, and held together by dimmed silver clasps.”

I repress a snort. Wonderful. Just my shit-cursed luck that some moth-eaten book too valuable to discard, yet too 'dangerous' for easy access, must be my salvation from Amara’s chokehold. Given my piss-poor fortunes lately, the bloody thing will probably disintegrate the moment my fingertips glance at its spine.

Chuckling wickedly, my damned brother thrives on the absurdity of the situation. "Ha. Well, shit just hit epic levels of ass-clenching excitement! Our little champ's got a freaking Oscar-worthy talent for drama, doesn't she?"

He leers down atMeadow, daring her to rise to his baiting tone. But the slight faerie ignoresLucianstoically, not even sparing him the dignity of a nasty glare. Ballsy faerie, she’s proven so far tonight; I’ll give her that much.

Course, if this entire goat-screw caper goes tits-up and lands us chained back in Amara’s torture gardens for treason, I won’t hesitate to feedMeadow’s pert little face to the queen’s pet hellhounds piece by shrieking piece. A cold comfort perhaps, but bloody satisfying should worse come to worst.

"Make haste, My Lord."Meadowis clearly ready to move.

Squaring my shoulders with forced resolve, I take the first cramped, ascending steps toward the dusty repository above and potential freedom. We hit the peak of the twisting stairwell and tread along a shadow-drenched hallway. My vision sharpens, adapting to the pitch black. The only sound is the dull echo of our steps on the stone. The stench up here is oppressive, like inhaling decades of dust and decay.

Moments later, my hand rests upon the library’s weathered oak door. I push hard on the heavy doors; the smell of books wafts through the air, a combination of musty old paper, ink, and history reaching me as I step inside the massive library. My boots scuff against the marble floors as I stride through the foyer toward the rows of bookshelves before me. I see a staircase to my left to the upper level.

We ascend the stairs, and a question finally claws its way to the surface. I shootMeadowa hard glance that nearly trips her up. "You've said you've seen me in your so-called visions. Out with it—what did you actually see?"

Meadowglances away evasively before responding. “Forgive my impertinence, but I have seen you many nights in prophetic dreams...a storied warrior bathed in otherworldly flame, striking down endless shadows.” She fiddles anxiously with her tattered hem. “Always a presence glows behind you—blinding in its radiance. I know not what it signifies, only that you stand central amidst The Light, My Lord.”

Despite the apparent allusion toDani’s celestial magic, I keep my face carefully neutral. It's better if the girl remains ignorant of my mate’s role.

Lucian's irreverent snort echoes from behind. "Well, well, the brooding king with spotlights and all. Gotta be a real bitch trying to find a suitably gloomy corner to perfect that sulking routine, eh?"

I shootLuciana withering glare and trudge up the stairs, his snickering trailing behind me.

She hesitates before continuing haltingly. "The visions... I have seen lightning crack open the sky above you, My Lord. Thunder shakes the heavens... a mighty hammer."

I freeze, nailing the faerie with a stare potent enough to make her shrink back. She's got some nerve, tossing around tales of my ancestors—legends long turned to dust in the minds of men. Her words shoot a cold shock straight down my spine.

How the hell does this audacious little thing know to drop names of old Norse thunder gods? Is it just bad fortune that she's plucking these bits of ancient myth out of thin air, or is there something more to these "visions" of hers?

Or maybe the little seer's got her wires crossed—mixing up who I am withDani's divine firepower. "What's this? Pulling fables out of your hat in your sleep, are we,Mouse? Since when have you been the expert on Gods of Thunder?"

---