Nightborn: Totally addictive fantasy fiction (The Hollow King Book 2)

by Jessica Thorne

  Daniel snarled, ducking under her outstretched arm, and throwing one of his knives to take out another guard. Two more took his place.

  Too many. There were way too many. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Neither of them would.

  A chance blow took the wind out of her but she staggered up, recovering and forcing herself on. Another came at her, another went down, but it was only a matter of time.

  Something took Daniel to his knees. He was still swinging, still trying to regain his feet, and she grabbed him by the back of his leather jerkin, hauling him up. But it left her exposed. The blade almost took her arm off but she turned at the last second, Daniel stabbing upwards and impaling the guard through the throat. The woman looked surprised as she went down.

  ‘Fall back,’ Grace tried to say, and she found her grip on the sword hilt slick with blood. Her own blood. It drenched her arm and the dull ache that went with it was bad news. The worst of the pain was dulled by adrenaline, but she knew enough to know she was in trouble. They both were. She was tiring, hurt, and so was Daniel. They fought hard and dirty, street fighters from Eastferry to the core, but it was only a matter of time before they would be overwhelmed. Fall back? Where did they have to go?

  Suddenly a scream rang out. Not of pain, not of anger. This was a scream of pure panic.

  Shadows swirled out of the gutters and the eaves, out of the sewers and the stones on the ground. They launched themselves forward like vines, twisting around their attackers and hurling them aside. Grace tried to pull Daniel out of the way.

  She seized the advantage, taking down two more guards the shadows hadn’t yet reached. The last guard lashed out, legs tangling with hers and bringing her down onto the cobbles.

  Grace stared into a face with huge green eyes and long white-blonde hair like Ellyn’s. But that was where the resemblance ended. The guard scrambled away from Grace, her skin bloodless with terror.

  The tendrils snatched the woman up, dragging her across the plaza.

  ‘Grace?’ Daniel screamed her name. He was too far away. Where was he? Ahead or behind?

  She rolled, coming up with her sword in one hand, the knife in the other, to face a horde of shadows now filling the square. It was a boiling mass of darkness, blacker than night, but it moved like a living thing.

  At its heart, a figure resolved, drawing the shadows back into himself. He was clothed in black and grey, thin and tall. Like a shadow himself. Jehane.

  Grace’s weapons were cold and hard in her hands, though she barely had the strength to hold them. Her right arm was trembling and if she tried to do anything with the knife it held, she was going to drop it. She came up to stand in a rush of movement, putting all the force she could muster behind it in case she lost her remaining strength, but the figure didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch.

  ‘Careful. You wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you?’ Jehane grinned. ‘They’re gone now,’ he said. ‘Let me help.’ He lifted both his hands, empty of weapons. Grace knew that meant nothing. The hand itself could be a weapon. And that hand could wield shadows just as deadly. She’d seen what he’d done. But when the pain washed through her and she almost fell, his arms caught her. His touch was gentle but all the same she pulled away quickly.

  ‘Where’s Daniel?’

  Even as she said his name, he appeared, clutching his side. Blood stained his hands and leather armour. That looked bad, worse than her arm. Grace grabbed him, holding him up, her own injury forgotten.

  ‘We need to get out of here, Captain,’ Jehane said, sliding Daniel’s other arm around his neck and taking almost all of his weight. ‘Before their reinforcements arrive. They’ll do anything to make him go through with this wedding. Including use you against him. Your life could be at risk.’

  He bowed to her. Actually bowed. Then the shadows roared up around them like a shield and they fled through the narrow lanes of Iliz.

  Lara opened the door to the mansion herself. She gave them each a glance, unflinching at the sight of their wounds. She ushered them into the inner courtyard.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked, slamming the main door to the mansion and locking it.

  ‘Retribution, I think,’ Grace replied. ‘Or an attempt to gain leverage. Where’s Bastien?’

  But Lara ignored her. ‘Jehane, your report.’

  Jehane shrugged. ‘To be fair, they’d already dealt with most of them before I had to intervene.’

  ‘You sent him after us?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Jehane Alvaran is one of my finest operatives. I sent him to find you and to look after you. A guard, if you will. I thought she’d try something like this. A bit obvious, but she knows the value of a blatant threat.’

  Grace stared from Jehane to Lara in growing horror. ‘I don’t need a guard. I am a guard.’

  The door from the parlour opened again. Bastien stood there and he didn’t look amused. ‘Grace? You’re hurt.’

  ‘We’re both hurt,’ Daniel muttered and Grace shot him a glare. This was not the time.

  ‘You knew about this?’

  ‘The marshal and I spoke about it earlier.’

  Grace felt like growling in her frustration. They were all pulling rank around her and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  ‘May we have a moment?’ Bastien asked. Lara raised her eyebrows, but then nodded and, with a curt gesture to Jehane, they both left.

  Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t worry about me. It’s not serious.’ He had gone white with blood loss.

  ‘Get that cleaned up and looked at,’ Grace told him. ‘We’ll get a healer.’

  But Bastien moved before she could finish. His patience apparently non-existent now, he stalked across the courtyard like a harbinger of evil. Before Daniel could react, he grabbed him in a vice-like hold and pressed his hand onto her friend’s side. Daniel jerked away from him, or at least he tried to. As he went to move, all his muscles seemed to lock.

  Bastien’s frown deepened and the glow of magic entered his eyes, just for a moment.

  Daniel let out a yelp. He snarled at Bastien as he tore himself free. ‘Don’t do that!’

  ‘It’s healed. You’re welcome.’

  ‘Yeah well… fine but… don’t just do that.’

  He pulled at his leather armour and shirt. Beneath the blood and torn material the skin was unmarked.

  Bastien shrugged. ‘It wasn’t serious.’

  Daniel looked up to Bastien’s face and scowled. ‘Yeah, like I said.’

  For a moment Grace could have sworn Bastien looked shocked, as if Daniel had hurt his feelings. Then the façade slid back over his face, the royal expression, the Lord of Thorns. He straightened and gave him the most withering glance possible.

  ‘Next time I’ll leave you to suffer and deal with the probable infection yourself then. Grace, we need to talk.’

  Bastien led her into the small sitting room. He closed the door behind them but she didn’t doubt for a second Lara and Jehane would be looking for a way to eavesdrop on them. If they didn’t already have one.

  Not that it mattered. All Grace’s attention was on Bastien now. He folded his hands behind his back – a sure sign he was up to something – and stood at ease, or at least as at ease as he ever got. He looked like a raw recruit expecting a dressing-down, defiant and resigned.

  ‘Lara tells me Jehane is the best she has.’

  ‘So send him to rescue Ellyn.’

  ‘Grace…’ He sounded defeated.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That woman in the garden, the attack on the canal… our position here has become untenable. The Dowager offered me protection. It should extend to my household. But now…’

  Oh, she understood. ‘If you don’t marry Rynn, she’ll take it away. This was her way of making sure you understand that.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Grace chewed on her lower lip, staring up at him. She hated this, hated that he felt this was the only way. That he was even contemplating i
t. And what would it make her? Part of his household…

  He pushed a strand of hair back from her face. ‘What are you thinking, love?’

  It pained her to say it but she had to. ‘That she’d be a good marriage for you. Politically speaking. That’s what the Dowager wants, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t care what the Dowager wants. I don’t trust her.’

  Grace frowned at him. Confused. ‘Then what do we do?’

  ‘We’re leaving. We aren’t safe here any more. Besides, we need to get to Thorndale. You are more important, you and the nightborn…’

  Larelwynn was not a large kingdom. Thorndale lay in the north. And the border was unsettled, dangerous. Tlachtlya and Larelwynn had never been on friendly terms and the war between the two had been devastating. It was a mountainous region, harsh and unforgiving, and they’d left a wasteland of it during the Magewar. More recently the Great War had only made that worse.

  ‘Thorndale isn’t—’

  ‘I know. It isn’t safe. It has never been safe. But neither is staying here, or anywhere in between.’

  He touched the warrant hanging around her neck. ‘You are more precious to me than life itself. I don’t know what lies ahead of us. We have to leave the islands; we have to travel to Thorndale across hostile lands. The nightborn are abroad.’

  ‘One nightborn.’ She remembered the cold touch inside her, the dark emptiness, and she shuddered. What Bastien said next didn’t make it any better.

  ‘There’s never only one.’

  ‘Bastien…’ But he was determined. She knew that now. He was going to stick to his plan no matter what she said. All she could do was try to make sure he didn’t cut her out in his misguided attempts to protect her. Bastien always thought he knew best. He was wrong. But he wasn’t going to listen. ‘They won’t just let us leave, not when the Dowager is so close to getting what she wants. Timing is everything.’

  He paused, his mouth open a little, as if he hadn’t expected that. Good. She needed to be able to surprise him.

  ‘I’ve told Lara to arrange passage for us off the Valenti Islands. She has a ship standing by in the Grand Harbour.’

  That was good, wasn’t it? It was time to move on, but… ‘We need to get Ellyn out first. They can help with that, Lara and what’s-his-name. Do you think they’d agree?’

  ‘Jehane,’ he said absently. He looked into her eyes, stared into them, it seemed, as if studying her, looking for something. Whatever he saw there, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. ‘Yes. They’ll help. I’ll order them to. But Grace… you’ll need a distraction if you’re going to get Ellyn out. And there’s something else you have to know.’

  Something else? ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Asher Kane is here.’

  The cold ache came roaring back. The void inside her, leaving her stomach hollow and empty. For a moment her head swam in syrup and she felt as if something pulled her away from herself, deep inside her, and that same something seemed to look out past her, using her eyes.

  Was it shock? Delayed somehow? Or was it the pain from her shoulder? Or just fear?

  ‘Here?’

  ‘On the island. In the palace. We have to be careful. Apparently he’s related to the de Valens family.’

  ‘Of course he is.’

  Bastien huffed out a breath. He didn’t like it any more than she did. The whole situation was a nightmare.

  ‘We’ll leave with the tide,’ he said at last. ‘Lara has arranged everything. I’ll go to the palace and tell them.’

  ‘You’ll go to the palace? Just like that?’ It sounded like a risky move. He read her uneasiness immediately.

  ‘It’s better this way. Look, it’s their Carnaefal ball. They’ll be busy with the celebrations anyway. If we vanish it will be a grave insult to the de Valens and there is every chance we’ll need them again in the future.’

  Divinities, Grace hoped not. But she couldn’t argue with him. Why burn bridges if they didn’t have to?

  ‘Bastien…’ She didn’t know how to say it but she was not happy with this at all. ‘What if they don’t let you leave the palace?’

  But Bastien leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. ‘They have to. I’m a Larelwynn. I’m the Lord of Thorns. All the treaties in this world protect me and my free passage to and from our home. Hold me here against my will and it would be a declaration of war. Not just against our kingdom, but against Brind, and Lean, even against Tlachtlya. They would lose all face, all standing. And the other kingdoms would love to fall on the riches of the Valenti Islands so I’d be the perfect excuse. They’ll let me go. They’ll have to.’

  ‘I don’t see them accepting that.’ Grace sighed and nestled closer in his embrace. She would never let him go so easily. And to the Dowager, Bastien was a prize. With him came the throne of Larelwynn. ‘But if you’re distracting them at the palace, maybe I can get in and out with Ellyn.’

  His grip around her tightened abruptly and put pressure on the wound in her shoulder. She couldn’t stop the startled exhalation of pain and Bastien drew back, studying her in consternation.

  ‘You’re hurt too, aren’t you? Can I help you?’ he asked. ‘Please?’

  Her arm felt like lead. Much as she hated magic, she didn’t want to put up with this for days. She needed all her strength to rescue Ellyn. Expediency called for healing and he could do it with barely any effort. Magic danced for him, sang for him. If she let him…

  He only wanted to help.

  ‘Fine…’ she sighed. ‘But be careful. You can’t afford to have the Maegen overwhelm you.’

  He smiled then, a brief, loving smile. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  His hand was cool against her skin as he slid it under her shirt sleeve and found the gash. She winced in spite of herself and Bastien’s expression became firmer. ‘Why didn’t you say how much it hurt?’

  ‘Doesn’t. Get on with it.’ If he knew she was lying, he didn’t say anything. Just gave her that look.

  His magic flowed like honey through her, knitting her back together, draining away the pain, but still… that sense of something empty inside her persisted. There was something wrong with her, and Bastien, who she’d thought could look into her soul and knew her better than anyone else, couldn’t see it.

  When he’d finished he rested his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and held her.

  ‘Promise me, Grace,’ he murmured.

  ‘Promise what?’

  There were so many things she should be promising. And that she shouldn’t.

  Bastien tugged his gold signet ring off his finger, the one engraved with a circle of thorns, which he used as his seal, both mundane and magical. Before Grace knew what he was doing he took her hand and slid it onto her finger. It felt strangely heavy, like the warrant, but warm against her skin. Like his touch.

  She stared at it. But she didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘I can’t ever promise that, my love,’ she replied, and closed her hand so the ring would remain where he’d put it. She didn’t have the heart to take it off. Or the slightest desire. It was his, part of him. It was a promise, too. A promise exchanged, but unspoken.

  Bastien kissed her lips tenderly and drew back a little, fixing her with that dark Lord of Thorns gaze that was meant to be stern. ‘Then at least promise me you won’t wait. Get Ellyn and get back to the ship. And if anything goes wrong… promise me you’ll leave.’

  Chapter 10

  As the evening light fell to darkness, Grace, Daniel and Jehane armed themselves and appraised Misha of what they were doing so he could let the others know – especially if they didn’t make it back to the ship Lara had arranged to carry them away.

  In the meantime, Bastien had gone to the palace with Lara. He was determined to make his apologies and take his leave. It was a stupid idea, as far as Grace was concerned, but he wouldn’t listen to reason. Protocol protected him, or so he said. He’d gone on
about treaties between the kingdoms signed when Lucien Larelwynn ruled, designed to protect his descendants and keep their magic safe. Lara agreed, which really didn’t help. To simply leave would cause a diplomatic incident.

  Grace hated diplomacy. She didn’t trust it, not the way Bastien did. He thought it was inviolable but she knew better. It protected you only when you already had power.

  The prison was on an island in the lagoon beyond the city. On the outside it looked like another of their ornate palaces. No one wanted to look at something ugly on Iliz. They were known for beauty and elegance, not misery and despair. That was reserved for the interior.

  Vicious rocks guarded the approach and the small boat had to move slowly across the waves. Luckily Daniel knew what he was doing. He’d grown up with Kurt, half their childhoods spent in the alleys of Eastferry and the rest in and around Belport. Apparently sculling a punt in near total darkness without making a sound was a valuable skill when someone was smuggling or creeping onto legitimate cargo ships to steal their goods.

  Only a few lights lit the prison windows. They would be on minimum staff, or so Misha had discovered, most of them having been reassigned to the city for the final nights of Carnaefal. Musicians everywhere liked to drink, especially at this time of year, and when they drank they liked to talk. No one was coming or going from the prison tonight. Most of the guards had been sent to keep peace in the city itself, so the prison was on lockdown. No one in, no one out.

  Except them. That was the plan. In and out without even the smallest ripple.

  The jetty was overlooked by a watchtower, so they couldn’t land there. Instead they had to come in via the rocky shore. It wasn’t safe, and it wouldn’t be pretty, but if Daniel could keep control, she and Jehane would leap for it. Then…

  Divinities, she wished Daniel was coming with her, but if they left the boat on the jetty it would be spotted. She didn’t trust Shades, but Jehane seemed different. He had skills, and more training, especially in something like this. Daniel wouldn’t fail her. He’d wait out of sight, in open water, so he could spirit them away afterwards.