Page 10 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

The Elder hands me the end of a thick, black rope. I grip it tightly, and he walks in circles around us, slowly tying us together. The large skirt of my dress makes it impractical for me to step forward, but soon, the space between Leo and I is reduced to an inch of crushed chiffon. The friction scatters static electricity over my thighs and causes me to shiver.

Leo rests his large hands on my waist, and I lean into his embrace. Then, like he’s just now realizing what he’s done, blood drains from his face, and he snaps his arms back to his sides.

My brows furrow.

Doesn’t he know he’s allowed to touch me? He’s the only human allowed to do so without quarrels. It’s almost funny how this mountain of a man is now at my mercy. It’s thrilling and scary all at once.

He’s so tall that I have to recline my head to look at him. The leftover stubble he had back at the choosing ceremony is gone, his jaw as smooth as the rose petals in the garden. Cologne lingers in the air, and I wonder if they forced him to shave. I don’t really care for the traditional buzz cut, and I wouldn’t mind if he chose to grow a beard.

After seven rotations, the Elder hands Leo the other end of the rope.

“By the dark Gods and our queen Nyx, mistress of night, I welcome you into her chambers.” The Elder pushes open the thick stone door behind the altar and passes a small leather bag to Leo. “The Nightfall has begun.”

Chapter 5

Nightfall

ARIELLE

We free ourselves from the bind, the slow, polite claps of our witnesses the only sound audible as I inch inside the stone chamber with Leo on my heels. The door closes behind us, and the loud thump of the lock brings a chill to my bones. I swallow hard, my mouth drier than the champagne they served at brunch this morning. There’s no other way out and no windows. A ripple of energy reverberates off the walls as I take in my surroundings.

This is where I’ll be tested.

The white chair tucked in the corner clashes with the stone walls and the bulky, four-poster bed that towers in the center of the room. The Nightfall chamber was built over Nyx’s tomb and allows the vampires who go through their Nightfall here to be reborn as the most powerful of their kin. This is why my family asserted control over the island, so we can tap into the dark power that dates back millenia.

Are the legends true, or is it like the psalms? It might just be a tradition meant to scare off our enemies.

Leo dumps the bag the Elder handed him to the ground, his sudden movement jolting me back to reality. The infuriating man doesn’t meet my gaze, and I paw at the front of my dress, unsure of what comes next.

Did I make a mistake, choosing him? He still won’t look at me…

“I was born here, you know?” I tell him, trying to break the tension as I walk deeper into the room and sit on the bed. “My mother insisted on giving birth to all her children here. ‘Births, weddings, and funerals must be celebrated under Nyx’s eyes,’ she used to say. She thought it’d give her sons enough strength to kill their enemies and her daughters beautiful crowns to rule over them.”

Leo stands stock-still at the foot of the bed, his knuckles white.

I caress the ivory duvet, thinking about the countless generations of Delacroix who saw their life forever changed in this very room. “I need to tell you… I don’t mind if you don’t cut your hair like the others. It’s an old tradition, but I like your hair as it is. And I don’t care about a beard, either.”

The small talk is meant to reassure him that I have no intention of killing him tonight, but still, he doesn’t look at me. His throat bobs, and he doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? I pace the room back and forth, trying to think of something clever to say, acting aloof like this isn’t the biggest night of my life.

The quasi-continuous tingling at the back of my throat that I’ve endured the last few days suddenly morphs into something else. Frost scatters across my ribs, tickles my belly button, and radiates all the way to my fingers.

Leo’s breaths grow uneven as I walk toward him.

They said in the books that I should ask for his last wishes, but it’s so bizarre to discuss this. Should I acknowledge the tiny possibility that I might kill him? Or are some things better left unsaid?

I rap my fingers on one of the bedposts. “If you were to die—”

“I’ve already said my goodbyes,” he chucks out.

Short and to the point, and yet I find myself appalled by his answer. “Don’t be afraid, very few first-bloods die.”

“I’m not afraid.”

I grip my chiffon skirt with both hands and sit on the edge of the mattress. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

The starkness in Leo’s green eyes is like a punch in the gut, and cold sweat drips down my back, my empty stomach clenched and painful. The hunger is here.

Blood rushes along my chosen’s arteries, and his blue veins gleam, right beneath the skin. I want to touch him. Feel him. Bite him.

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