Page 35 of The Night Prince

The past?Maybe. Earth?Definitely not.

Declan felt the flat of a sword smack across the length of his bare back.Pain–sharp and stinging–radiated up to the top of his head and down to the tips of his toes.The second smack against his naked chest had his breath leaving his body.The three quick blows to his thighs and then a fourth against his left calf nearly caused him to fall to his knees.It was only then that he moved.

Or rather, had achanceto move.

He backflipped out of range of the sword, sweeping up two wicked curved daggers that lay in the black sand, before he landed in a cat-like crouch.He rose up on the balls of his feet with the two daggers ready to fend off the next blows from his opponent: a white-haired elf with skin so black it was almost blue.The elf had volcanic red eyes and wore light chitin armor stained a dark purple.The armor hugged his powerful frame.A section of it jutted up from his chest plate to cover his neck.

So it is harder to cut his throat or sever his head from his body, Declan knew or remembered or… something.

“Oh,nowyou want to fight?”The elf let out a harsh grating laugh at the end of saying this.

Declan wanted to ask who this elf was.Were they enemies? They must be enemies.Deep in his heart, he hated this man despite not knowing who he was.And the man’s red eyes reflected that hatred back at him.

Where were they? This place of velvety black shadows and stars–no,notstars, but glowing lichen–spread out above their heads. He could hear the slap of water against rock from somewhere to his left.And there was the whir of wings cutting the air somewhere out of sight.A sheer black wall rose up behind him cut open by a massive iron gate that was firmlyshutas if to stop him from escaping.

Why were they there?To kill each other.To end something.Of that he was sure.But when was this?It was not now.Because he was smaller than he should have been.A foot and a half shorter at least. And his arms were reed slender though still muscled.He looked like achild.

Was this a memory then?It seemed soreal.He could feel the sand shifting beneath his strappy sandals.He ached with the pain of those blows–and earlier ones he could not recall–at that moment.He sensed a whole life behind him that he did not remember.

So if this was notnow, what was now?He also couldn’t rememberanothernow.But there was one.He was sure of that.Someplace and sometime far from here for which he was…grateful. A life with light and laughter.Love and friendship.A place that was not this endless, cold dark where he was alone.

Despite having all of these huge questions that needed answering, he found himself growling at the white-haired elf, “I’m always ready to fight!”

“Fight…what?”The elf demanded.

Declan’s jaw tightened.His teeth ground together.

“You!”he spat out.“Always ready to fightyou!”Those red eyes glowed a sulfurous red and Declan added, “Master Vulre.”

The honorific was demanded even though both of them knew he didn’t mean it. While this elf was clearly more skilled than he was, to be someone’s Master meant that there was a desire to teach as well as to learn.And he knew in his bones that Vulre did not want to teach him.

Master Vulre… Vulre… Vulre Vultorus…The name floated in front of his mind.More information poured in,Master of the Venomthorn Academy and Blood Knight to Lady Ashryn Zinsandoral.

This was gibberish to him and yet it was not.He felt the emotions behind these words as if they meant something very much to him, especially Lady Ashryn.While his hate for Vulre was like a brand on his skin, his love for her was just as strong. But then the elf–Master Vulre, evidently–was speaking again, dragging him out of his thoughts.

“Always ready, are you?Well, I am sorry, but it is too late!”Vulre hissed, shaking his long white braid back over his shoulders.

Declan felt a similar length of hair brush against his right shoulder.He looked down at it.

White… My hair is white?That’s not right.I’ve never had white hair… Have I?

Vulre spat out, “Those blows you weresupposedlyready for would have severed your spine, had your intestines spilling onto your feet, not to mention that your legs would be cut out from under you.So you see you are already dead!The fight is over!”

Declan’s cheeks burned with the humiliation of his failure.His mind offered up every excuse he could think of, including the largest one, which was that, despite his words to the contrary, he hadn’t been ready.Because he’d been… he’d been… What had he been doing?

It was bright.So bright.Burning.Awful.Acid poured over my skin.Bones on fire.I couldn’t move.And then… then another light.So much brighter.Him!

Was that the real now?But if it was, it could not have affected this fight.But as fast as those thoughts occurred to Declan, they were gone, especially who this “him” was.There was only the faintest memory of eyes so blue that they couldn’t be real.

Blue as the clearest sunlit skies…

But that, too, made no sense.He had never seen the sky where the Sun burned.Velvety darkness surrounded him where he crouched on the soft black sand of the… Selanar, the training circle.That’s what this was.The training circle at the Venomthorn.And in the sconces that surrounded the circle, were lumen stones that crackled and flared, giving off purple and gold light.He’d heard that there were worlds where stars bathed everything in golden light.

But I’ve never seen sunlight.

Yet he knew he had.Or would.Or… The thoughts fled like water down a drain.

“Lady Ashyrn took you in.Gave you a place here even though you were abandoned by your own parents!We feed, clothe and train you!But what do you give us in return?Nothing! You are weak!You are useless at magic!You arenothing!”Vulre snarled.

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