Page 79 of Queen of the Night
I hear a sickening thud followed by Ikar’s grunt. My eyes widen in horror at the arrow protruding from his shoulder and the blooming dark red stain spreading around it even as his eyes lock on something over my left shoulder. He releases my wrists and stands, pulling his sword from its sheath with his good arm and standing in a protective stance before me while I scramble to standing. I can’t consider that even after the way I’ve treatedhim, he protects me. With shame, I grab my knife, the only weapon I brought, from the dirt to face whatever it is that is encroaching around us.
My eyes trail up the tall soldiers… a flashback to our travels in the Lucent Mountains reminds me I’ve seen them before. Hooded cloaks shadow their faces, and loose robes mask their build, but it doesn’t dampen the danger that tangibly emanates from them. Gloam masters. Their weapons are larger than Ikar’s, and I know his is a force to be reckoned with; what does that mean for theirs? Faster than my eyes can track, four surround Ikar, and two come for me, separating us in moments.
I pull lucent, creating a ball in my hand, and immediately send a torrent toward Ikar who’s already immersed in battle. At this point, I don’t care if he can discern the difference between the cool of my magic and an actual originator’s. We could both die here.
“Who are you?” I demand when they stop several feet before me, trying to focus even as I hear theclangof blades on blades behind them, and hope Ikar will be able to fight while injured.
I feel like a trapped rabbit. Why aren’t they attacking me? Are they playing some sort of twisted game? I lift my knife higher, widen my stance, and pull more lucent.
A chilling, deep voice comes from within one of the deep hoods. “Isn’tgloam masterswhat they call us?” He looks toward his fellow cloaked figure who laughs in a way that has my skin crawling.
“What do you want with us?” My knife trembles in my grip.
“Notus.” The hooded figure stops not three paces away. “You.”
Both their hidden, creepy gazes are focused on me. I canfeel it. Do they not realize they have the high king in their grasp? They wantme? But then Ikar’s words as we sat on the bank of the Lucent River after escaping the gloam masters ring in my ears …same thing I want. A Black Tulip, I’m sure. I suppose the high king would be second, to be rid of him.
Oh no.
Ikar’s pained shout rings in my ears, and I whip my head in his direction to see one of the figures yank a sword from his midsection. Two lie dead around Ikar, and one falls to the ground as I watch. But dark red blood pours from Ikar’s side, and the arrow is still firmly planted in his shoulder. He drops to a knee, and I scream as I watch him fall to the ground.
Darvy and Rhosse and their slew of soldiers scramble down the ravine wall to our right, finally having caught up. I keep up a continual rush of magic for them, hoping it’s enough. I forget the gloam masters hovering before me and dart around them, running and landing on my knees beside Ikar, attempting to block him from any further injuries with my body. I ignore the towering, violent figures around us and instead focus on Ikar for our last moments together. I wait for the piercing blade of a sword through my back.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper near his ear. “Please don’t die,” I murmur over and over softly, holding his face while warm tears fill my eyes as I will his eyes to open, to meet mine with their stormy depths, even if theyarestill filled with accusation.
I press one hand to his neck and find his pulse, slow and weakening. Rupi lands near his ear and affectionately pecks it, waiting for a response, quilling when he doesn’t move. While I wait to die, I intend to do everything I can to save him. I grasp the arrow and pull with so much effort my grunt is almost a war cry. I toss it into the dirt, even more concernedwhen he offers no reaction. I press both my hands to the injuries and recklessly pull magic, hoping I can do enough to save him. Lucent runs through my veins cool and refreshing, pouring from me and into him. I wait for the killing blow, prepared to pass to the other side of magic with Ikar, even in the midst of my attempt to save his life. He still isn’t responding, and I’m panicking.
“Powerful, indeed,” the deep-voiced shadow speaks.
He says something indecipherable, and then a large hand reaches toward me, clamps around my neck from behind, and everything goes black as my cheek lands on Ikar’s warm, almost-still chest.
Chapter 45
Vera
Iwake as a cold hand leaves my neck, my body beginning to thaw with a rush of painful tingles as if it were a solid block of ice—so cold it burns through my veins. My head bounces, and it’s difficult to draw breath as I force my frozen lids open. All I get is an eyeful of black cloak and swirling gloam.
“She’s waking,” says a gritty voice to my right.
Waking? It takes only a moment to realize I’m currently thrown over the shoulder of a large gloam master, and my wrists are wrapped with…rope.They swing uncomfortably above my head, and my shoulders ache.Other boots trudge along in my line of vision, but I can’t tell how many are here. I try to shift and find a large arm holds me firm around my thighs. I jerk and fight, hitting my fists against his back and hating how weak I feel.
“Put me down, you brute,” I mumble with lips that move too slowly from the chill.
Other than a chuckle from one of them, I’m promptly ignored. I decide to save my energy and focus on paying attentionto the details around me. I still can’t see much with the cloak in my face, but I hear noises around us. Not only the deep voices of men, but also roaring and screeching of creatures I can’t identify and that are too far for me to see. We pass tents staked into the dirt, and smoke from smoldering fires burns my eyes. I turn my head to find groups of men who become silent as we walk by, watching as we pass. It’s eerie. Signs of life are here, but why does it feel sodead?
I pound the brute’s back a few more times, but it elicits no reaction. Then, without warning, the man ducks through a doorway, walks down a short hallway, enters another room, and I’m flying off his shoulder, tossed onto a pile of animal pelts that are thrown over one of two surprisingly springy beds, which cushions my fall. I can’t help the yelp that escapes my lips at the abrupt action. I awkwardly make my way to my knees, hands still tied, when a man with long dark hair lowers enough to put his face level with mine.
He lifts a gentle finger and brushes stray hairs away from my face as if I’m a delicate treasure. “Careful with my queen.”
I forget to jerk away when I meet eyes a shade of blue that my body reacts to. My mind wants to linger there. Why are they achingly familiar?Do I know him?My thoughts churn in a frozen whirl that remains just out of reach. And did he sayqueen?
“I’m no queen,” I say bluntly.
I mean, it couldn’t be more obvious, but I’ll say it anyway. I may not remember much at this moment, but I am one hundred percent certain I am not, and never have been, a queen.
“Oh, but you will be.” He smiles in a way that should annoy me with its cocky tilt, but instead, my heart stutters at how handsome he is.
What’s wrong with me?Apparently, my brain is still a blockof ice. This guy emanates darkness—literally. I eye the way gloam whispers out around him, and I don’t know if it’s coming from within or emanating from without. Either way, I’d consider that a red flag. It’s strange and slightly hypnotizing to watch its movement. I look to the tall soldiers who have backed away, but stand silently around the room, watching. Gloam clings to them as well, but perhaps not as strongly as it does to the man before me. Gloam everywhere.
