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

by Jessica Thorne

  If someone had told her a few months ago she would fear she’d fall to pieces because of a man she would have called them a liar and punched them to unconsciousness.

  Grace met the anxious gaze of the Valenti princess and nodded.

  The apothecary’s study was deserted, with everyone at the wedding celebrations. It was on the lower floors, servants’ quarters really. Grace followed the group while Rynn led the way with Bastien by her side.

  ‘You okay?’ Daniel asked.

  It was a stupid question and she could see from his face that he knew it the moment he uttered it. But what else could he say?

  ‘No,’ she told him, daring him to argue.

  ‘We’re almost there, almost out,’ he assured her. ‘There’s a servants’ entrance, not far from here, leads to an alley behind the palace. Their security is shit.’

  ‘Because the whole bloody city is a trap,’ she muttered in reply. To get out of Iliz meant getting onto the water and as far away as possible before the sea defences could be raised. They could close off the Grand Harbour and raise chains across the entrance to the lagoon. And if they didn’t make it to the ship, the maze of the city wouldn’t help them. They didn’t know it well enough.

  The candlelight danced around them as Rynn worked. Grace was aware of Bastien watching her, no matter how hard she tried to blend into the background.

  Every moment she thought she saw a glimpse of him again, as if he might remember, his eyes glazed over and he scowled at her. She looked away. She had to.

  ‘Here,’ Rynn said, pulling the tome off the shelf and flicking it open until she found the page she wanted. ‘I need help.’

  ‘Of course,’ Bastien replied, dutiful and attentive as ever.

  ‘Not you. Make sure no one comes in. Stay there. I need Captain Marchant’s help.’

  ‘Not her!’ Bastien blurted out, unable to bear the thought of Grace near his princess. ‘It isn’t safe. Please, my love.’

  The words speared into Grace. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening. And yet… here she was.

  Rynn’s expression was as firm as her voice.

  ‘She won’t hurt me. We can trust her. Really. Kane lied, Bastien. He lied about everything. Please, just step back and guard the door.’

  He looked uncertain, but obeyed her again, taking himself back to stand beside Jehane at the door, guarding the entrance. Part of whatever Asher Kane had said included his unswerving trust in the man who had betrayed him time and again.

  Divinities, Grace thought, I should have killed him when I had the chance.

  Not that she had actually stood much of a chance.

  At least she had Daniel on her side. And the Shade. Jehane glared at Bastien fiercely as if he expected him to attack again at any moment, but Bastien looked defeated. She had never seen him look so lost. The urge to comfort him was almost instinctive, but she knew now that would only end in disaster and pain.

  The princess met Grace’s eyes, and beckoned her over. ‘This doesn’t take long. I promise.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’

  At the sound of Grace’s voice Bastien stiffened again, and Jehane stepped between them. It could be a suicidal gesture, but he didn’t flinch. The Shade was made of more than shadows. Loyal to the crown, he’d said. But he was loyal to something else as well: his comrades.

  ‘Stay there,’ Rynn commanded. ‘I mean it, Bastien. I need her.’

  He stopped, glowering at Grace. She bristled and turned her back on him deliberately. Rynn tried to smile, a gesture of encouragement. It didn’t help.

  ‘Why do you need me?’

  ‘You’re a Flint, right? It’s quicker with a Flint.’

  ‘I was a Flint.’

  ‘Well you’d better be again, and quickly because otherwise this will take hours and we need to leave before anyone comes looking for us.’

  Great. The one thing Grace could do to help and she couldn’t actually do it any more.

  Rynn didn’t wait for anything further from her. Nobility to the core, she just carried on as if Grace hadn’t told her that it wouldn’t work. The princess had decided it would be so and so it would be.

  She poured three liquids into a vial and handed it to Grace. Then she grabbed something that looked like a nut but smelled of sulphur and grated it into her potion. Next came a single drop of another liquid that shone like gold and slid like honey down the side of the vial.

  ‘Heat it.’

  ‘I can’t. Didn’t you hear me?’

  Bastien glared at her and she flinched. She couldn’t help herself. Not this time. The hatred, the malice…

  The darkness. The same thing she felt inside her, ever since the Loam in the garden had turned nightborn.

  There was darkness deep inside her, the same darkness she had felt beneath the light of the Maegen. It wasn’t safe, she knew that. But she could sense the power there. Beyond the emptiness. If she would reach down and take it.

  What had the Loam in the garden said?

  You could be so much more. If you just had the courage to reach out and seize it. It’s waiting for you. It’s a sacrifice, of course. But everything worthwhile demands a sacrifice. Especially magic. Oh… it could make you so strong, little Flint.

  Just reach out and seize it. The void inside her beckoned, waiting for her. Grace closed her eyes, steeling herself for what might come. All she had to do was make a sacrifice. And that sacrifice was herself. It was her honour to serve. That was what she had been taught for as long as she could truly remember everything. Serve the crown. Serve Bastien. Do her duty. And here she was yet again.

  She reached out into the depths of the deepest nightmare, back to the edge of life and death where she had almost been lost before. Some part of her had never left the place. Not really. She knew it from her nightmares. It haunted her. Deep in the darkness underneath the Maegen, where unknown things moved. Things with too many eyes, claws and teeth, things that were hungry, that dripped poison, that wound around her greedily, that pulled her in…

  The warrant against her skin burned like acid. She winced, clenched her teeth and forced herself on.

  The fire that had been stolen from her veins roared to life. She almost dropped the vial, blinded by the light that burst from it.

  The liquid inside turned a bright blue and Rynn almost squealed with delight. The sudden noise broke the link of shadowy tendrils around Grace’s heart.

  ‘That’s it, perfect!’ Rynn reached out to take the vial from Grace, but the heat made her snatch her hand away.

  Daniel and Jehane grabbed Bastien before he could launch himself at Grace again, pushing him against the door with a solid thud.

  ‘She’s a witch, Rynn. She’s dangerous. Don’t you see it? Don’t you see the darkness?’

  Rynn flinched, her face paling, and turned to Grace with a stricken expression.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Grace whispered, pushing it from her consciousness. What had he seen within her? What had he recognised? ‘Make it work. Please.’

  Rynn nodded, swallowing hard. ‘Not here. Not yet. If he… if he passes out we’re stuck here. And we can’t be. Not with Kane. I can’t take that chance. We have to leave.’ She grabbed the vial in spite of the heat and sealed it with a stopper, holding it close. ‘Bastien won’t leave without me and I can’t stay here. Not if he goes.’

  ‘Why not?’ Lara asked. ‘You don’t love him. You don’t even like him. Kane can’t hurt you here, with your family and your people.’

  Rynn heaved in a few tight breaths, looking from one to the other of them, as if deciding if she could trust them. Clearly she made her decision as her gaze alighted on Grace.

  ‘My family will hand me over to Asher Kane without hesitation. They can use our marriage to make me a figurehead or… whatever they want… He’ll take me to Rathlynn. Even if you take Bastien away, they’ll use me, as his lawful wife. And then… then…’

  And that was the thing. Grace couldn’t do that to her. She
couldn’t do that to anyone.

  Rynn retreated towards Bastien who pulled himself free of Jehane and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and trying desperately to comfort her. He cast them looks which said he’d murder anyone who came too near or tried to part them. Grace didn’t doubt it. But right now he didn’t seem to be aware of the power he could wield. He hadn’t used his many forms of magic against them. She could thank Asher Kane for that as well, she supposed. It was a bitter kind of relief.

  Grace glanced at Daniel. He tightened his mouth and then nodded at her. They couldn’t leave the young woman behind, not to face that. But stealing Bastien was bad enough. Stealing the beloved Rose of the Valenti was going to see them pursued to the ends of the earth.

  But what else was new?

  ‘She comes,’ Grace said. ‘And we need to get the hell out of here. All of us. But if something happens to you, or that vial, he’s stuck like that. Please, your highness. I’m begging you. I won’t let you be left behind but we need Bastien back, if it’s possible. I need him…’ It was almost too much to say, too much to heave out of her heart. ‘I need him in his right mind again.’

  Or as near to it as he could be brought. Restoring him suddenly seemed too much to hope for.

  Rynn stood there, holding the vial in both shaking hands, her grey eyes so very wide, Bastien still holding her in a gentle embrace. She looked like she’d burst into tears and Grace couldn’t blame her.

  Then, abruptly, she turned to Bastien, thrusting the vial at him. ‘Drink it.’

  He obeyed her without hesitation, and though Grace felt the same pang of shock that he would be so gullible, so easily led, this time she had to hope for the best. Because if it didn’t work, she’d lost him forever.

  Chapter 15

  Bastien couldn’t tell what was going on. They ran down the luxuriously furnished corridors of the palace, ducking down back staircases and through servants’ passages. His mouth was filled with a bitter taste, like almonds and vinegar, and his stomach churned. Whatever Rynn had given him, he should never have taken it. She must have made a mistake. This was meant to be the happiest day of his life. But Rynn wasn’t happy and now they were surrounded by enemies, led by that red-haired witch. Asher had warned him. He’d told him she was dangerous and that he should kill her as soon as he saw her. Her voice alone drove him into a blind rage.

  He’d almost killed her. It was almost done, as it needed to be.

  Rynn had stopped him. Her heart was too good, too pure. She couldn’t see them for what they were. The witch had her under some kind of spell.

  Bastien couldn’t see the magic binding Rynn but he knew it was there. It had to be. She was acting so strangely. Whatever it was, this invisible binding, he couldn’t unpick it and set her free.

  He reached out with his senses, with the tingling thread of magic, carefully, tentatively. There was something wrong, terribly wrong…

  If only he could find Asher, get word to him. He’d help. Of course he would help. Rynn had to be mistaken. Asher was his friend. He had always been… but why did that thought set off another cold shudder of revulsion inside him?

  The redhead was watching him again. The pain in her eyes made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t define. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t feel that. He loved Rynn.

  Didn’t he?

  But he couldn’t remember anything clearly. Couldn’t remember a first kiss or any gesture of affection. Couldn’t remember talking to her for longer than a few minutes. There was the dance at the ball. That had been magical. Like something out of a story… But…

  He’d been looking for someone else the whole time. And halfway through, he had felt something… something terrible… like his world was falling apart…

  Like the feeling sweeping over him now.

  Grace. Her name was Grace. And she was—

  He reached for the thought only to find it snatched away. He knew he was missing something. He reached deeper, into the darkness, into the depths…

  Grace…

  ‘Bastien, remember.’

  The voice wasn’t his. He didn’t know where it came from but it sliced through the base of his brain like a blade. A man’s voice. No, a boy’s. Someone from so very long ago. Like a dream more than a memory.

  Rynn’s hand on his arm brought him back to the present. Her sweet face looked so concerned, so worried about him, and he blessed himself for that. That she cared, that she was in his life.

  ‘Stay with me,’ she said. ‘We have to leave. It’s the only way.’

  ‘Rynn, we should check with Asher.’

  Her face went pale and she shrank in on herself, fragile and delicate. ‘No. Not him.’

  ‘But he’s my friend.’

  ‘He isn’t, Bastien. I don’t know how to make you believe that but it’s true. He lied to you. Asher Kane is not to be trusted.’

  Bastien frowned. It didn’t make any sense. Asher was his oldest friend. He had always been there for him. Always.

  Except… he remembered kneeling, excruciating pain ripping through his body, Asher smiling at him, enjoying his torture. He came to a shuddering halt.

  ‘Bastien…’

  Rynn rounded on him, holding his shoulders and staring into his face. ‘Are you… Bastien, are you remembering?’

  ‘Remembering what?’ The words came out in a defensive snarl. It was a dream, that was all. A nightmare. He tried to shake it away. He was a prince. This was his wedding day. His happily ever after.

  Wasn’t it?

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Lara snapped. ‘Why have you stopped?’ The marshal’s voice was all command and he couldn’t believe she was going along with any of it. She was meant to help him, guide him, obey him. But this was madness.

  ‘He’s remembering.’

  ‘As quickly as that? Maybe you have a vocation as an alchemist, your royal highness.’

  Grace stopped in his line of vision again, trying not to meet his gaze, her face a veneer he couldn’t read. She was attempting to hide her feelings now, to control them and do her job. Whatever that was. Kidnapping him and his bride… And that same thing reared up in the back of his mind. Like he knew her. From the moment he’d seen her wield magic… he knew her. Like they were connected somehow. As if her power called to his.

  And within that connection there was a darkness, endless and terrible.

  An image of his hands tangled in her hair, of her lips parting against his… He shook it away in horror. No, revulsion.

  From outside he could hear the sounds of the city, but this wasn’t the constant hum of Iliz. This had a different note, one of panic. Running feet, shouts of alarm, anger…

  ‘Move, keep moving,’ Lara said. ‘We’re almost out.’

  By the cellar steps, the guardsmen kept cloaks and she grabbed them, making him put his own on while Rynn deftly wrapped herself in the scarlet fabric.

  Outside, noise rose in a cacophony, sounds of horror, of rage, the sound of a mob.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ Lara said. ‘Jehane?’

  The Shade slipped ahead and vanished in the shadows beyond the door.

  They hadn’t even followed him out into daylight before the noise rose louder. Like a breaking thunderstorm, conflict and panic everywhere. Bastien felt it like a wave. It rose up from the ground itself, from the earth and water of Iliz. He shuddered to a halt as it swept over him and through him.

  Magic. Born of horror and fear.

  ‘What is it?’ Rynn asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Something’s happening. Something terrible.’

  Another wave struck him and he staggered, this time unable to stand against it. Pain, terror, fear. And beneath it, rising up, feeding on it, an endless, ancient darkness.

  ‘Keep moving,’ Lara urged. But he couldn’t. Every instinct howled it at him. He couldn’t go out there. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t—

  Grace Marchant reached the end of the shady alley and stood there, silhouetted against the
lights and chaos. The celebrations had changed to something else. The plaza beyond was still full of people, but not celebrating, not any more. Screams and shouts replaced music, a stampede of running feet, the crash of weapons, the smell of panic, sweat and blood. She was a void, a dark and empty unmoving space between him and whatever was happening out there.

  ‘She’ll die for you. She’ll always die for you.’ The voice was stronger, more urgent now. ‘Remember. Remember everything. Or lose her forever. It’s coming. If you don’t remember nothing will stop it.’

  They reached level with Grace and the full horror of it all revealed itself. Everywhere groups of guards with naked blades were closing in on the mageborn. Not just guards. The people of Iliz as well, makeshift weapons in every hand. Others scattered across the plaza, crushing people underfoot regardless of their heritage or abilities. Blood spilled across the stones.

  A man staggered down the alley from the other direction, clutching his side. He saw them, tried to reach them – looking for help, or a place to hide, or maybe even to warn them – and he fell to his knees, his guts tumbling onto the cobbles underneath. The Valenti who followed were a mob, diving on him before he was even dead, kicking and stamping.

  Bastien barely caught sight of the collar around his neck before he vanished beneath them. He’d been mageborn, Rathlynnese, one of the Larks who had escaped Aurelie.

  Rynn screamed as someone seized her from behind. In the same instant Bastien’s heart seemed to stop inside him and he barrelled towards her, but Grace was there first, the sword and dagger already in her hands. The man went down in a heap without making a sound, the fury of her attack taking him – taking all of them – completely by surprise. The red-haired witch grabbed Rynn and thrust her towards Bastien before spinning around to fall in beside Parry, swords ready.

  All around them a mob raged, tearing at one another. The mageborn fled, those still able to move, and the Valenti pursued them. Another pack raced at them but stopped when they saw the two Academy officers blocking them, fully armed and furious as they prepared to fight.

  ‘Leave them,’ someone shouted from the rear of the group. ‘Come on. There’s more of the mageborn bastards heading for the docks. They’re trying to escape.’