Page 67 of Kingdoms of Night

Lynxes didn’t typically attack humans, but a child? And with its padded, furry claws, Annette would never hear it coming.

Her trail was still clear, and although he could see better in the dark than he’d once been able to, he couldn’t summon his werewolf eyes freely.

Brennan pulled ahead, glancing back at him in the dimness, his hazel eyes gleaming the spectral amber of a werewolf. “Follow me.”

He nodded. It would be faster.

Brennan bolted, deftly evading the trees and brambles even at his speed. His fingers had Changed to claws, long and sharp, catching on the cracked ridges of beech bark and knobby burls and pushing off.

Trying to keep up, he sent up a prayer to whatever deity would listen. He’d never been much for prayer—it had never saved him before, not that he’d ever truly expected it—but if there was a deity who listened, Annette had to be worthy.Please, do whatever you want with me, but get her what she needs…

The deciduous trees gave way to conifers, to the crunch of dead pine needles underfoot. Between the pines and the undergrowth, a trail led to a sandstone bank rent by a small fault. In the shadows lay the inky entrance to the Devil’s Cellar.

Brennan stopped, and so did he.

Something here smelledwrong, like nothing he’d ever scented in this forest. Slightly sweet, tingly, like a lot of magic smelled, but…floral? Unlike any flowers he’d ever come across.

“Her scent leads here,” Brennan said, furrowing his brow, “but…”

“Annette,” he called toward the cave’s entrance.

The wind wailed through the pines, deafening for a moment.

“Tonton,” a faint voice called back, distorted. Annette’s. Something was wrong.

“Wait—” Brennan placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, bolting for the entrance.

He ducked his head to get in, his boot hitting a slick patch of wet rock.Merde.He lost his footing, scraping a palm against bumpy stone and slimy mushrooms as he fell face first onto the hard stone floor.

CHAPTERTHREE

IDALNO

Naatos.

Idalno crossed her arms over her chest as she turned to face him. What did he want?

Tall, dark haired, sharp eyed, and far colder blooded a bastard than he looked, Naatos stood between her and the forest. His gaze searched her face with an uncomfortable intensity, as if assessing whether she was going to do something disappointing or interesting. As usual, he wore all black from his doublet to his trousers to his boots, with the exception of the vivid yellow, blue, and green woven arm rings—the one concession he made to her people’s tradition and an indication of his respect, despite being a Vawtrian shapeshifter. A large black leather bag sat at his feet near the butt of his black spear with the white runes.

Although it had been a few years ago, she had never stopped feeling awkward since she’d confessed her feelings for him. He'd made his lack of feelings clear as glass, but that didn't mean a lack of meddling, unfortunately.

“What do you want?” And how had he gotten between her and the forest? The broad friezes made a direct path more challenging, especially when there were so many people about. Had he been heading this way himself and changed his mind?

“Take this.” He picked up the large bag and offered it to her.

Tilting her head, she broadened her stance. “Why?”

“You worked very hard to become the Master of Venom and Poison. If it were merely a matter of effort, it should have been yours. Selnon has never shown the same dedication or desire for this calling as you.”

What was this? Naatos had been Selnon’s first non-Unato friend, and he had been the one to help her find Selnon both times he ran away. While he hadn’t said much on the topic of the Master of Venom and Poison, she’d assumed he sided with Selnon on this matter. He’d always been big on responsibility and duty. But more than that, Naatos wasn’t one for compliments. And it sounded like he had just complimented her.

“You would say that of your friend?” she demanded.

He did not blink. “Friendship does not require lies. Especially not mine. Besides, he has said the same thing. This isn't a happy day for either of you.” He tossed the well-worn bag toward her.

Flinching, she caught it. The dark material squeaked against her palms, but it wasn't quite as heavy as she had thought it would be.

“What is this?” She lifted the top flap. Travel supplies. Including at least one small pot of veru venom, a powerful neurotoxin. Likely to help him in his quest to gain poison and venom immunity. Surprisingly useful. But why? She frowned at him. “This is one of your travel bags. Did you bring this for me on purpose or were you going somewhere?”

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