Page 100 of The Lost Prince
Goddamnit, why was he making a solid case for me not to kill him? The little bastard was growing on me.
The need to know what would happen—what could happen—if I caused him pain and suffering gnawed at me. I wasn’t going to do it because I hated him; it was simply academic. I couldn’t gain further knowledge unless sacrifices were made.
And yet … I could give him a sporting chance, couldn’t I?
“Start running. Maybe I catch you, maybe I don’t.”
That certainly evened the odds, didn’t it?
Nisar didn’t wait another second. He took off down the dark corridor, only pausing to swipe the torch from its bracket before he was gone. The flames bounced up and down in the darkness, marking his progress as he went further and further.
Until suddenly, it went out completely.
No screams, no clattering of the torch against the stone wall or floor. It and Nisar had been there one moment, and then simply gone the next.
Curious, yet wary, I crept forward.
“Nisar? Did something happen?”
Silence.
That little maggot had taken my torch, so I was blind. I took a tentative step forward, my arms stretched outwards as if I were blind. Good thing it was dark; I likely looked ridiculous.
This was stupid. There was nothing there.
I picked up my pace.
BOOOOOM.
The roar of a dragon sounded from somewhere far above me. The ground shook and I stumbled, unable to keep my balance. I fell hard and rolled. Reaching an arm out, I recoiled with panic when there was no ground in front of me; only empty air. I scooted backwards in panic, breathing heavily.
Holy shit. Holy SHIT.
I kicked my foot out, listening as I sent tiny pebbles and dirt flying into a deep abyss.
Nisar had fallen down there. Was he dead?
If he was lucky.
I didn’t have another torch handle, but I had enough supplies to make one little flare and toss it down the hole to get an idea of how deep it was. But that meant navigating the way back in complete darkness.
Frustration welled in my veins and turned my gut bitter. I’d lost my chance to experiment, and my bloodmagick churned inside of me, unhappy. With each ritual I completed, it grew hungrier and more impatient.
More violent.
There was a small kernel inside of me that knew I should be concerned, but I brushed it aside. I was fine. The magick was impatient, but it was also fine. I could control it.
I was in charge.
A more pressing concern was how the others were unlikely to believe that Nisar had accidentally plummeted to his death when my dislike of him was well known.
Not your best move, Zephyr.
Oh well. This was actually the truth, for once. When you had the truth on your side you weren’t supposed to hide anything. That’s what the ‘good guys’ always said in my stories, after all.
A low moan cut through the cave, directly below me.
Oh shit.
