Page 134 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
As if she hadn’t just consumed Tigon’s soul, Noctyssa casually walked over to Zarathos and bowed,then offered her hand. “Let’s find a safe place for the potion to finish healing you, and then we can go after Xaphoron. My sword is at your service, Your Majesty.”
Zarathos’s bargains remained in force. But how? In a flurry of panic, he pulled back his armor and breathed a sigh or relief. The Bloodbound mark remained on his arm. Aryana remained alive and well. What was more, she hadn’t given up on him.
What in the world was his little kalator doing?
Chapter 44
Aryana
Aryana scaled the walls of the castle. She’d had to get past four guards in order to reach this point, taking them down swiftly one at a time and knocking them out.
Her hands dug into the cracks between the bricks, moving upward until she came to the open window of her mother’s dressing room. Her mother habitually enjoyed a slight night breeze blowing into her chambers.
Xaphoron had dropped her off in the cabin near the castle like she’d instructed, though she’d been half-conscious. Builders had constructed the cabins for any hapless vampires caught outside during daylight hours. And since Aryana hadn’t known how long theeffects of taking Zarathos’s potion would last, she had instructed Xaphoron deliver her there. The seizure had been terrible and for half the time, she worried he would drop her and leave her where she fell. But he’d delivered on the bargain, anyway.
She climbed through the window and landed on the floor of her mother’s chambers, lingering in the cover of the billowing curtains, as she waited to see who might be present. The scent of her mother’s jasmine perfume filled the air and something else, the sharp tang of human blood. Aryana’s incisors dropped. The sounds of her mother feeding reached her. She peered through the window coverings and saw Enela kneeling before the queen, her face tilted away. Her mother’s lips were locked around the woman’s throat.
Candles glowed along the edges, casting flickering shadows across the burgundy drapes framing the large bed. A vanity stood beside the fireplace, where the queen now sat.
Suddenly her mother jerked back, glancing round. “Who is there?”
Before she could summon the guards, Aryana stepped out from behind the curtain, her eyes scanning the room. Aryana exhaled in quiet relief—her mother was alone. “It’s me, Mother.”
The queen’s eyes widened. She faced Enela, who had blood dribbling from her bite marks into the collar of her dress. “Go. Do not tell anyone what you have seen.”
Enela rose unsteadily and bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” She cast a glance toward Aryana, who offered a little wave. Aryana trusted her to keep quiet. Most humans went motionless the moment a vampire bit them, but Enela had been a giver for years now. Overtime, she’d grown accustomed to vampire venom to the point that she had almost no reaction to the bite. It was possible but rare.
A smile played on the old woman’s mouth, something odd sparking in her eyes, and she gave a brief nod before leaving.
Aryana’s mother rounded on her, wiping blood from her lips with a handkerchief. “No. You can’t be here. You have to leave.”
“Good to see you, too.”
Her mother rose, worry etched into every line of her face. “You know what happened last time. If your uncle finds you here, he will kill you.”
“I’m aware of the risks.”
“Then why are you here?”
Aryana reached into the pouch at her side and fingered the potion there. The real Neutrolisis Potion. After Zarathos had fallen asleep holding her, she’d stayed awake, thinking and planning. The only way to get Zarathos through the last trial was to deliver the scepter to him. So she had gone to Xaphoron’s room and made a deal with him, and instead of showing him the Neutrolisis Potion, she’d taken the clear liquid potion Zarathos used to suppress his incubus scent. Which led to that seizure. Her muscles still screamed in protest with every movement.
“I’m going to reunite the demon scepter.”
Her mother shook her head, panic flaring within her eyes. “You can’t. Your uncle has spells set to alert him if anyone so much as approaches that room. You won’t make it in and out of your father’s study in time. He’ll catch you.”
“Stop pretending I matter,” Aryana snapped. “Like you or Father ever cared what happened to me.”
Her mother flinched. “Your father—”
“He always had better things to do.” It was silly that this hurt still remained when his death had destroyed her so completely. And yet the words had come out of her mouth, the feelings having festered over years of shame and pain.
A look of realization softened her mother’s expression. She stepped closer, voice quiet but firm. “Your father cared about you and your future. It didn’t always show. But he did love you.”
The words hit harder than Aryana expected. She turned her head, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“You must leave,” her mother insisted, her hand landing on Aryana’s arm. “Your uncle is dangerous—unless…” Her voice faltered. “Unless that demon king is controlling you. Using the effigy to force you here?”
“Zarathos destroyed the effigy.”
