Page 36 of Luca

This time, when the dark came, I was less afraid.

CAIR

Luca had slept fitfully through the night, stirring and whimpering as if reliving the fight in the dark. My heart had wrenched for him, the guilt in my stomach an unpleasant companion as I’d whispered soft encouragements into his ear. I’d stroked his curls, reminding him that I was there, they were gone, and he didn’t need to be afraid, all while resenting my own carelessness. I’d watched over him even once he’d settled, mapping out each line and contour of his face and body, matching them to what was already in my memory, proving to myself that this was not just a figment of my imagination.

He’d woken with exhaustion hanging over him, his eyes shadowed with the type of weariness that followed a night of wrestling through bad dreams, and for that reason, I’d urged him to stay in bed most of the day. He was stubborn, but he’d relented, making it clear that he only did so because he was eager to dive into the book on carnivorous plants he’d picked up at the market.

And apparently, the jet bathtub was “pretty neat.”

Whatever his reasoning, I was just glad he remained inside, where I could keep him in my sights and attend to his wound. It was a mere scratch, logically I knew that, but all I could envision was how much worse it might have been. How close they’d come to taking him from me.

I’d scrubbed him raw, but I could still smell their blood on his skin, could still see the fear in his eyes as it had pinned him to the forest floor. That look would haunt me, as would the defeat I’d felt through our bond, and the way he’d accepted death as he saw no other way. The creature had warped his mind, had reached into his soul and filled it with darkness, all because I’d been too late to save him from it.

Despite my mate’s reassurance that he was unscathed and it had been an unpredictable situation, the fact remained that I’d failed him. I could not have foreseen the future, there was no way I could have known their plan, but therecouldhave been more preparation. I was a prince with unlimited resources, for Creators’ sake, I should have shielded him better, been more alert, hired more guards. There was no reason for him to ever feel fear or be in danger, not with me, not with our people. Safety and comfort were what I had promised him, and knowing I’d broken that trust would be a burden I’d carry with me always.

And I would do everything in my power to ensure it never happened again.

“I’m going downstairs to speak with the innkeeper,” I said, brushing my knuckles over his cheek. He looked up from his book. “I won’t be long, but don’t do anything too strenuous while I’m gone, alright? That includes building a blanket fort next to the fire.”

“Dammit.” He gave me an exaggerated pout. “There goes my afternoon. What about cartwheels in the hall?”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking about it.”

He sniffed derisively and returned to reading, flipping the page. “Haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

With a laugh, I kissed his temple before leaving the room. Cee was pacing the hallway, and I called her over, requesting an update on Rathe and the scouts we’d sent ahead. There had been no word from the palace as of yet; however, there had been sightings of more reapers several towns over, seemingly docile, but we couldn’t be certain of that at a glance.

“Our best interrogators are on the job,” she assured me. Her face covering was lowered, so I saw the slight smirk twitch at the corner of her wide mouth. “I suspect you’ll know of their intentions before the evening is out.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said before excusing myself and heading downstairs. Thankfully, the inn was still as empty as it had been when we’d arrived last night. Either the owner had cleared the place out for the sake of our privacy, or it wasn’t a popular spot. I couldn’t tell, and I wouldn’t insult them by asking, though I found the latter hard to believe.

I hadn’t spent much of my spare time frequenting taverns in the Otherworld—hadn’t the time as a youngling—but by my standards, this was by far the most presentable. These types of places were often much the same—the same ale smell, same wooden benches, same food on the menu. They were pit stops for weary travelers passing through, or locals wishing to get drunk and enjoy an evening of live entertainment. They served a purpose, much like the lounge I’d built in the human realm, and I couldn’t find fault with that. Though it was refreshing to not have my boots sticking to the floorboards, or the scent of vomit clinging to my nostrils. Whoever ran this establishment did so with pride, care, and attention to detail, and it was especially reassuring to feel the vibration of defensive wards by the door.

There was an older naga behind the bar, humming a simple tune, a cloth in one hand and a tankard in the other. I wasn’t sure who she was in relation to the place, as we hadn’t left our room since sneaking in through the back door yesterday evening. I knew nothing of our hosts, hadn’t had the presence of mind to probe Cee or Gary for details, and I felt somewhat guilty about it.

Especially since I had yet another request to make of them.

I strode toward the bar, and she lifted her head, the humming subsiding as a polite smile formed over her scaled mouth. “Your Highness.” She nodded, and a strand of her gray-flecked red hair fell from underneath the floral-patterned bandanna she wore. She continued with her task. “What can I do for you?”

“I wished to thank you for your hospitality,” I said, which was half the truth, but I knew Luca would scold me if I didn’t practice pleasantries first.

I forgot how human he was sometimes.

“It’s no hardship,” she offered, her voice a deep, throaty hiss. “I must admit, having a royal under my roof won’t be bad for business.”

I hummed, pretending the silence of the room proved her statement otherwise. The sound must not have hit the correct note as she snorted. “I thought you might appreciate peace and privacy,” she explained. “Only myself, my two mates, and a few of the staff remain.”

My assumption had been correct then. “Thank you. You will be compensated.”

“As I informed your comrades, I have no need for anything.” She set down the tankard in her hand, giving me her undivided attention. “It is our pleasure to serve you and your mate, my prince. We are honored to have you grace our humble bar, and I wish only for your contentment.”

“Your loyalty is valued,” I said, knowing it was not enough but was all I could offer. No words could do justice to how grateful I was to have the support of my people, and I could only hope to live up to their expectations and strive to deserve that allegiance. “Though I fear I must impose on you further.”

Her back straightened, and she wiped her scaled hands on her apron in preparation for my request. “Name it, it will be done.”

“A group of reapers were set upon us. Thankfully, they failed to carry out their task, but I’m not convinced there won’t be others sent in their place. I resent bringing darkness to your doorstep, but for my mate’s safety, I had no other choice.”

Her flat nose wrinkled in disgust. “Reapers are nasty little bastards, but easy enough to kill if they don’t catch you in their thrall. You did the right thing coming here—” She reached under the bar, withdrawing a bow and quiver of arrows. “As I am fully equipped to deal with them, should they decide to swing by for a drink.”

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