Page 158 of Skalterra By Nightmare
“Galahad. His name was Galahad.” My eyes stung with unbidden tears, and I slammed my bandaged hand against the wall next to Stanley’s head. “And he’s dead. Because Ferrin killed him.”
Stanley’s eyes widened.
“Galahad was your nocturmancer. You can’t go back.”
“Ferrin is going to release the Frozen God,” I said. “He’s going to kill my friends to do it. Please. You have to tell Tamora. She has to stop him.”
Stanley shook his head.
“I know you don’t know Tamora well, but she doesn’tdothings for others.”
“The Barony will collapse. She won’t control the Skal supply anymore. Ferrin will.”
“She’s clever. She’ll adapt.”
I released Stanley and stepped back. Part of me felt bad for him. The difference between his real appearance and his Nightmare form was horribly telling. Every differing detail signaled what he disliked the most about himself, and there were a lot of differing details.
“You didn’t run from me because I killed you,” I said. “You ran because you’re embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” He tried to sneer, but his sallow cheeks turned red, and sweat beaded on his scalp, visible through his thinning hair.
“You don’t like yourself.”
“Says the girl who obviously doesn’t have blue hair in real life.”
“If Ferrin frees the Frozen God and bridges the Rift, what happens to the Nightmares?” I asked.
Stanley’s cheeks turned brighter still.
“There will still be Nightmares.”
“Will there?” I crossed my arms and flashed him a dubious smirk. “And if there are, will Tamora stillneeda Nightmare bodyguard? She’ll have so much Skal. How do you know you won’t become redundant? And then you’ll be stuck likethis. Forever.”
“There’s nothing wrong with how I am!” He raised his voice.
“I didn’t say there was. You did.” I stood my ground, daring him to tell me I was wrong. Maybe it was cruel to use a man’s insecurities against him this way, but Tamora was my best bet to stop Ferrin, and if psychologically torturing a sad banker was my ticket to saving Fana and Orla, then dammit, I would just have to psychologically torture the sad banker. “You love Skalterra, but you love being Titus more. So stop Ferrin. Save Titus.”
He sulked, holding himself around his elbows and frowning.
“I’ll see what I can do, but Tamora is stubborn. If she decides not to face Ferrin—”
“Then tell her my name, let her summon me, andI’llconvince her. And then I’ll help her kill Ferrin myself.”
Stanley’s sullen face broke, and he had the audacity to laugh. Not just a chuckle, either, but a full-blown, head-back guffaw, and it was my turn to blush.
“Sure. After everything you just said about me becoming redundant? Why not?”
“I’m trying to help you!”
“You’re trying to help yourself!” A cruel grin twisted the kind features I’d come to associate with Stanley, and suddenly the resemblance between him and his Nightmare form was much more striking. “You don’t look much like yourself either. Say what you want about saving your friends, but you want the same thing as me. Now your nocturmancer is dead, and you want mine so you can live out your blue-haired, warrior princess fantasies.”
“No.” I jammed a finger into his chest. “Unlike you, I’m happy to admit I hate myself. Unlikeyou, I know blue hair doesn’t change me, and I will happily die over and over and over again if it means saving the people Idolike. My name is Wren Warrender. Tell Tamora. Tell her I can help.”
Stanley pushed my hand away.
“Or what? You’ll grow spikes out of your arms and stab me?”
“Tell Tamora. Ferrin will ruin our world if he gets through.”
