Page 88 of Queen of the Night
“You know how news spreads of these things; I’m sure the entire kingdom has heard by now.” He leans close, lowering his voice again. “It would make thingsmucheasier, Nadiette.”
I step away in disgust. “How dare you!”
“My meddling is no worse than yours.”
Shame heats my ears. “I don’t want him todie!”
He lifts a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture that infuriates me further. “Calm yourself. I promised you a chance to convince him to marry you, and you know I’m a man of my word… I only meant if he passes naturally, he won’t have to stand trial and be publicly executed if he refuses to marry you. Atleast this way he could pass peacefully and with honor intact.”
He acts as if he cares.
I take a very slow breath to diffuse the anger he has ignited.
He continues speaking, his voice as matter-of-fact as if he were discussing the latest shipping schedules for lumber. “I’ll return soon. Whether it’s for a funeral, a wedding, or an execution. No more than three weeks.” He lifts a bushy brow in warning, as if I need reminding.
I watch him walk away as I attempt to wrangle my anger into submission. When it refuses, I decide to funnel it into helping another healer heal Ikar. He must live. I’ll wear out every healer and originator in the kingdom if I have to.
Chapter 49
Vera
It’s difficult to fall asleep when you’re trying as hard as I am. Sleep is a few hours of unconscious escape from the dismal reality that is my current situation. I crave it for one reason:Ikar.
I lie on my bed listening to Tatania’s quiet, even breaths across the room for one hour… then two. After a bout of panic that I may not rest at all and a fourth round of breathing exercises, I finally sink into restless slumber.
That bright-white light shines from behind Ikar, and I smile widely, almost gleeful. “You came back.”
What are the chances I dream of him two nights in a row? He looks good. Really good.
He grins. “Of course I did.”
I savor his cocky tone, not allowing myself to be sad when he stands before me, even if he is just a dream. I tentatively reach out this time, attempting to put my hand in his that’s outstretched and waiting, but I stillcan’t reach him. Curiously, though, his voice sounds nearer this time.
He says something, but even though it’s nearer, I can’t hear him?—
“Vera.”
I’m yanked from the dream as if a glass of chilled water was poured on me, and I gasp when someone shakes my shoulder.
“It’s time for the tour, my lady,” Gretta whispers.
Gretta. Curse her, and curse Renton.
I groan. “It’s the middle of the night.”
I’m feeling great stirrings of hot rage that I was pulled away from the midnight rendezvous with dream Ikar that I worked so hard to sleep for, even if itwasjust a dream. Now I’m left to deal with grief and sorrow until the next night. Numbness descends to protect me.
Gretta ignores my protests. “Believe me, my lady, it’s the best time. The creatures thrive in the dark.”
Lovely.I sigh heavily.
She holds a long fur-covered cloak in her hands,so long that the length of it pools on the floor. She shakes it impatiently at me while she waits for me to roll out of bed. Tatania sleeps soundly across the room, so I silence any further groans or arguments, snatch the dratted, fancy cloak from her hands, and swing it over my shoulders. It’s heavy and drags on the floor as we leave the room.
I blink my tired eyes as we finally leave his… I’m not sure what to call it. It’s certainly not majestic enough to be called a castle, but it’s much grander than the smaller structures, tents, and smoky fires that we travel through to get to where I’m supposed to meet Renton for atour, as he and Gretta call it.
I look over my shoulder as we leave my prison behind. It’s all twisty, swirling gloam, with shadows so deep I can hardly see any details, especially in the dark. The roof is pitched sharply, and two wicked spires stab into the air. I find it to be ridiculously elaborate for an encampment. I would snort, but I’m not in the mood. I can’t help but think of the crisp brightness of Ikar’s castle, but the numbness doesn’t like that thought and devours it before I can consider it further.
Familiar sounds of fires cracking and popping and men conversing fill my ears as we pass groups of them standing near tents or sitting around fires, but it’s all interrupted by screeching that spreads goosebumps up my arms. It’s some type of gloam monster I can’t name, and the eeriness that echoes through the camp tells me I don’t want to. There are other sounds of gloam monsters, though more faint, and I can’t discern which ones they might be coming from. I fold my arms within the heavy cloak in an act of attempted self-comfort as I glance around warily. Gloam curls and wafts around us as we walk. The childish side of me wants to kick it just to see it swirl around in smoky patterns, but I don’t.
