Page 44 of Nightingale

“I have no doubt that if I return, much will have changed.” He set his bag down by the door within easy reach and began to toy with Polaris, like he was fascinated in the weapon.

The handle had been beaten into submission in a design that curved around his hand like an additional guard, with intricate swirls that followed in rapid succession. Ebony leather had been pulled tight around it, a star cast into the silver at the hilt. Castil had used the pointed addition several times, jerking it down into a rivals’ neck in a time of haste.

“Where are you going this time?”

“Niroula.”

“Like Rian?” Regulus questioned, a sign that he’d been the one to inform the King about the disappearance of their brother, as well as the missing prisoner.

If there was any hesitation on his part, it vanished like wavering smoke in the air with that tiny detail.

“Follow up on Rian, actually. The King, our dearest, darling,mostaffectionatefather, wants to make sure things are done a certain way.” Castil removed himself from the door frame and withdrew his sword, bending the blade back and forth as Regulus fell silent.

Unnaturally so for someone who loved to hear himself speak. To make any noise, actually. Regulus wasn’t a fool, even if he acted like it at times.

Castil glanced upwards to find that his assumption was correct. That was reluctant understanding that quickly settled on the tanned skin of the long face in front of him.

“Don’t do it, Castil.” He croaked quietly.

For once, Regulus dropped any act of arrogance, of self-love and the way he held himself up as if he were better than them all and he wanted them all to know it as much as he did. A different person stood before him, one that Castil might have been guilty for contemplating death.

If it hadn’t been an act solely for the purpose of convincing his younger brother not to kill him in cold blood. It was only a matter of time before Regulus tried to put him out of his misery, as he boasted about several times. When he was one or two cups of wine too deep, the male often bragged about how he’d kill them all and take a vicious sweep of them all in order to secure the throne.

“As for my reason for coming here, I’ve come to kill you.” He said it as if it was nothing, just a friendly visit from one brother to another instead of a final farewell and the slip of silver to skin as it created scarlet in seconds.

Regulus had no chance.

There were no weapons within his arms length, which was a mistake on his part. All of them should have slept with something handy, for this exact reason.

“Very funny, brother.” He tried to joke, his eyes nervously shifting around the room for anything he could use to defendhimself with.

“Is it?” Castil inquired. “I’ve never been the humorous sort.”

“Extremely.” He said dryly, still laced with terror that reeked like piss and poor choices. “Now put thedamnedsword away.”

“No.”

The girl on the bed watched with an eager fascination that belonged to a bloodthirsty beast, a lion waiting to pounce. Perhaps she wasn’t here on her own accord, as Regulus was often fond of doing. In order to survive in Carylim, one must be as brutal and ruthless as the land itself, to do whatever was required to thrive. It was no place for fragile little does and captured songbirds to sing songs of misery and ballads of heartbreak.

Seemed it ran through their family.

“Don’t do this,”He repeated, low and scared. “You won’t take the throne, so what does it matter if I live or not? It’s of no consequence to you.”

He was rambling, a terror in his tone.

Castil took pleasure in that.

“I really don’t have to,” He started, as if he might tuck Polaris away, turning around and forgetting that this little incident ever occurred. “But I reallywantto.”

Regulus’s face paled, turning to a shade of ivory that almost matched the carpets. “Why? I’ve never tried to kill you before. I talk a big game, that’s all. If I really intended to do that, don’t you think I would have already?”

“Because I can’t let you be King. Because you and Eamin devised a cunning little plan to take both Kingdoms in a few strategic moves.” Castil said, and struck faster than a venomous serpent. He plunged Polaris into his brother’s chest with a swift motion so quick that Regulus didn’t have the chance to duck out of the way. There was a slight pressure, an intense heat that poured over his hand and then the wet gasp that came next.

“Guess you’re moving up.” He grimaced, blood running from the corner of his mouth as he held onto Castil’s shoulder for dear life. Not that it would do him any good. Castil knew where to efficiently strike. “I guess if any of you were going to kill me, I should have known that it would have been you. Brioc’s as dumb as a rock, and Rian is too…niceto kill any of us again.”

He twisted his sword even deeper, earning a broken groan in return. “I think you underestimate him. Rian is more than capable of murder, even if you buy his bullshit story about the accident and Raj. He planned for that all along, even went so far as to goad him into trying to kill him.”

The girl on the bed grinned, swinging her legs off and standing. She tipped her head in silent appreciation at him before strolling to the bathing room to collect her clothes and leave.

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