Page 58 of The Night Prince 3
The wind was roaring now up the back of the crater. It threatened to catch him and drag him off the edge.
“I am the one and only leader of the Kindreth. The Night King. There is no Night Queen. There never will be,” Vex answered in a cold and unfamiliar tone. But then he reached for Declan. One hand curled around Declan’s cheek without touching him. “So a Night Prince? How could I allow that?”
Declan slowly blinked. Ardreth and Krith burned on his body, wanting to both leap into his hands. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I told you.”
Declan closed his eyes. “Why did you come here at all? Back to Illithor?”
“Oh, that.”
Declan braced himself. “It’s been over a decade since I came to Earth. Over a decade since I last saw Lady Ashryn or Vulre. Over a decade since you discovered I existed.”
“A decade? Is that supposed to be a long time, Rahven? I suppose you feel it to be so. But for me? It is the difference between dreaming and waking,” Vex answered.
Declan opened his eyes. “And now that you’re awake, Father, why did you come here?”
Vex slowly smiled. “I suppose to make a decision.”
Declan didn’t wait to hear what that decision was or what it was about. He already knew. If there could be no Night Queen, there could definitely be no Night Prince. Declan took the only escape route that was open to him. He threw himself off the edge of the crater into the darkness down below.
Forgotten History
Snaglak surreptitiously stuck his right pointer finger into his right nostril. He snugged it up to his thick knuckle before he ran out of space. He wiggled it around.
“Unless you’re digging for treasure in there, Snaglak, the finger should be removed,” Helgrom said, without turning around to look at him.
How did he do that? He always knew when Snaglak was about to take a sip or two–or ten–directly from the beer taps or was considering sneaking a chicken out of the Dawn in his pants. It wasn’t fair! The dwarf had eyes in the back of his head. That was the only solution to this problem.
Snaglak sighed and removed the finger with a slightly wet sucking sound. Glom came over to sniff it and then licked it vigorously. Snaglak sighed again. He wanted to lick his finger, but now it was covered in Glom juice. Curiosity had him lifting the finger to potentially sniff and lick–
“Put it down, Snaglak. No one needs to see that and imagine what it tastes like,” Helgrom ordered, again without turning around.
They were all huddled behind some large boulders above a city far below them. Except it wasn’t the city that they had all seen through the rift. It wasn’t Illithor. It was the former Draesiwen capital city Xrdatha. But there were no dwarves living there any more.
“I don’t understand this,” Elasha whispered, anxiously fussing with the twin daggers at her belt. “We all saw Illithor through the rift, didn’t we?”
“We did,” Helgrom grunted.
“But this isn’t Illithor! Illithor is nowhere near here, is it?” Elasha gripped the daggers’ hilts.
“It is not. Illithor lies over five days' ride that way.” Helgrom pointed unerringly into the greater darkness over the mountain range where they perched. Again, he didn’t look. He just knew.
Snaglak sighed.
“And the others–Uncle Aquilan, Prince Declan and Lord Neres–aren’t here? You’re sure of that?” she asked for the fifth or sixth time.
“Your own senses should tell you that, Elasha,” Darcassan hissed.
“But if they’re not here then how are we?” She looked between the dwarf and her twin. “Where are they? If the Illithor we saw in the rift was an illusion–”
“It wasn’t an illusion!” Darcassan cried. “I know those rifts led to Illithor. We’ve been waylaid somehow!”
“Waylaid? By who?” Elasha blinked large eyes.
“Night King,” Snaglak said helpfully.
She paled. Darcassan frowned. Helgrom stroked his beard.
