Page 56 of Nightingale

Vrea didn’t show a single sign of trepidation as she held her spine as tall as it would go and lifted her chin. He admired that part of her. The one that faced fear head on and didn’t let it bother her at all. He wondered if she’d boldly face down Death, if given the choice.

He hadn’t planned on touching her at all, not after his failed first attempt that left her smouldering more than an expired pile of charred ash and wood. But then he’d seen the subtle shifts in her body, the way her chest locked, her mouth parted and how her eyes turned from a grey-green to something heady, darker. Even the bridge of her crooked nose gained a red flush to it that signalled every neanderthal part of being a man.

He’d seen the way her pebbled breasts poked through her black jacket, the way she inhaled as he’d slowly caressed her cheek as a test. He wouldn’t do anything sexually that she didn’t want.

There was a line when it came to the things he wanted, and as of last night, he wanted her. Badly.

Rian wanted her before, when he’d caught her watching thenot-so-hidden display of an intimate act on his brother’s night of the celebration. But at that point, it was nothing more than a tendril of curiosity, of seeing what Castil found so fascinating about her.

Everything, apparently.

Even he couldn’t deny that she held a certain appeal. She fought like a demon of death, with no hesitation until it came down to the matter of letting him live or not. He’d been blown back at the level of tenacity she’d shown at a moment’s notice, able to draw her daggers out and succeed.

Rian knew he should have expected it since she was the one who killed Theseus, but it was still something that he found himself thinking over regularly. No wonder their father had insisted on smashing her down before she could take them all out. He’d seen her siblings fight before, fought against them himself.

Teminos preferred daggers, like she did, but was often found with a short-handed spear that he whirled around like no other. The staff was made of metal itself, strong enough to not break under pressure and could stop a sword mid-swing. Eamin was a cold bastard who was fond of throwing knives and axes when he wasn’t nose-deep in his intricate poisons, using distance to his advantage with his perfect aim. He was the one to look out for before he found you.

Alpheus hardly stepped foot into the war camps anymore, but when he did, he was just as lethal as the rest of them. A two-handed sword was his preferred method of combat, one that many of the soldiers spoke of. His blade was a jagged thing, one that could cut through bone if needed.

Rian had never gone up against Alpheus and there was a pooling dread in his gut that told him if it ever happened, that the eldest heir of Niroula would be the one to walk out of that battle. He was legendary on the field, hence why he’d spent hisearlier years effortlessly wiping out their numbers.

Rian hadn’t engaged in as much combat as his elder brothers and he was grateful for it, but there was an underwhelming requirement to prove himself in the same way that the rest of his family did. It didn’t matter that he was his father’s Golden Heir, or that he would unquestionably take up the throne once the King of Carylim either handed it down at long last, or was forced off.

The latter seemed more likely.

It was where his head was, even if his father boldly declared that he wanted Rian to rule next. He highly doubted that the male would remove himself for a good while longer. The Golden Heir in comparison to the Argent Prince that was Castil.

Whilst silence settled over them like a thick blanket and the mist in the air was heavy, it allowed him to think over the small details of everything that passed between him and the female at his left. The one who held her horse steady as they made it through the first fourth of the Blackleg Caverns. She didn’t glance at him, keeping her focus honed at the tiny other side that would spit them right out at Niroula’s war camps.

The Carylim ones halted right before the mountain range ended, allowing the other side to gain the entrance from the end. But the Blacklegs territory wasn’t much of a bragging right considering that it wasn’t an area that could be conquered unless someone managed to sneak into the tunnels themselves and wipe out every last one of the large arachnids.

Which was an impossible task.

There were thousands of webs along the walkway, and if Rian looked hard enough into them, he could make out the creamy, age-rotted bones left over from previous meals. The spiders usually devoured their prey whole, with acid that burned through the flesh and made it easier to eat entire bodies without issue. It was clear by the amount of dirt-flecked bones leftbehind that they spat the remains out, unable to fully consume those to the point where nothing was left.

It sent chills down his shoulders.

He hated spiders.

More than anything else.

He wasn’t particularly fond of snakes or anything that slithered either, but there was something about a creature with more than four long legs that bothered him severely. But they had to get by the Blacklegs in order to make it out without being stopped by his father’s men.

He would know that they were gone by now, which meant they were being followed. By who though, Rian didn’t know. There was no way that the King would allow them to vanish like that without a single word and not send someone after them.

Rian didn’t think it would be Regulus, since the male was easily distracted by a pretty face or anything with the correct parts, if he was being completely honest.

It wouldn’t be Brioc, either.

He knew his father better than to assume that he’d waste a squadron of sentries on something this mediocre as well, since the war effort was the first priority when it came to their resources.

Which meant one thing.

He’d sent Castil.

Fuck.

Rian mentally counted the days since their departure, thinking over the timeline and contemplating what his elder brother would do if he caught up to them. He wouldn’t kill Vrea, that was certain. But what had their father instructed him to do? Castil could killhim,as none of them were marked out of harm’s way. The King didn’t allow any heirs to not participate in the bloodbath, regardless of if he preferred one over the other.

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