Page 315 of Kingdoms of Night

Bastards are treated very differently in my homeland.My father's court never extended this courtesy to me, though I am the firstborn, and legitimate at that.

Too soon, we're at the front, and the corpse-pale king looks down at us. I shift under his gaze.

"Child." That's it, that's all the king says.

Dryan barely inclines his head. "My king. A fruitful campaign, was it not?"

The king smiles and indeed, I do recognize those lips. "For you, or me? I see a pretty cunt on legs that ought to have warmed my bed last night."

I shiver.

Dryan laughs. "So I took one girl. You know me. Always reaching for more. Which is how my court rose to prominence. Say I can keep her, my king. I'll see that your coffers reflect my appreciation next tithe."

Though both men keep their tones light, what I see in their eyes is thunderous. This is a battle of wills and I have no clue who's likely to win. But at long last, the king waves a lazy hand and Dryan leads us away, through the bustling court and then down the halls of the mountain keep, until we're standing outside in the moonless darkness of night.

A company mounted on horses greets us at the gates.

"My king," says a man—the very man who'd been rutting on Dryan's bed last night.

I glance to the man next to me. King? I thought we'd just greeted the king.

"We're ready to ride."

"Thank all the fucks. Let's go home."

A massive dark steed walks up to us, and Dryan hops onto his back, saddle-less.

I don’t know whether I should be relieved or concerned about the fact that no mount is brought forward for me. “I’m not the strongest rider,” I confess.

Not to mention I’ve never mounted a horse without a saddle. If I wished to, it wouldn’t have been while wearing this flimsy gown with nothing underneath.

Dryan spares me a glance before waving an imperious hand.

Strong hands seize me. I only have time to gasp before I'm unceremoniously thrown across the back of the horse, and we start galloping through the night.

* * *

I don't know how I stay attached to this bloody horse. He travels at a blinding speed, muscles taut, showing no sign of tiring. Several times, I think I'm about to fall to my death only to bounce off the beast's back and find myself right where I don't want to be.

I'm in agony. My muscles haven't relaxed since Dryan's servants threw me on this monster. Crying is my only recourse, and it serves no purpose beyond giving me a fever. I think I pass out at one point, because one minute, it’s the middle of the night, and the next, I see the sun rising over the snow-covered plains.

Even the sun is different here; brighter and cooler, it explodes in blues and silvers rather than the red dawns I'm accustomed to.

We continue riding through the day, and long past nightfall. It's a wonder the horse does not falter for one moment.

My body is one large, raw wound. I can't identify one part that's not in utter torment. I'm hungry, cold, tired. My throat is dry and my nose is so stuffy I can barely breathe. Night falls again, so we've been on horseback for nigh on an entire day.

This could be how I die. Not old, in bed, and surrounded by my grandchildren, like I had hoped, but alone, in this unfamiliar, cruel world.

Perhaps it's a kindness. Death may be a deliverance from many tortures and humiliations to come. That's my last thought before a blinding light awakens my senses.

I blink and find it in myself to look up.

I might have died after all. This could be paradise, if paradise is as cold as it is beautiful.

Crystals higher than towers surround a lone fortress perched atop a dark rock, carved inside the stone. There's nothing but crystal hills covered in snow on either side of the majestic, beautiful keep that reaches for the sky, crowned by clouds.

We ride across a crystal bridge so delicate it looks like one single horse might collapse it, but the entire company of Dryan gallops without a care. What's left of my stomach rises into my aching throat as I take in the drop, so far I can't see what lies at the bottom beyond a thick fog.

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