Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
I walk to Talan’s room, my footfalls echoing off the arches. Soldiers trail behind, guarding me. The morning light is a soft rose gold. It filters through the diamond panes of the windows and flares off the flagstones. Winter is thawing a little, and icicles drip in the sunlight. The drafty castle air kisses my skin through my translucent gown of shimmering gossamer silver.
As I walk through the stone halls, I read the note written in Talan’s hand: We have work to do.
I’ve been summoned.
Last night, Talan rode out again, all the way to the Vorgium Forest and the little lakeside cottage. He buried Arwenna, then Meriadec—two bodies under the earth for me. Strange to think of the feared prince of Brocéliande getting his hands dirty cleaning up blood and corpses by himself.
Something has shifted between Talan and me. It feels like we’re on the same side of a battle, but it’s only temporary.
He’s still the enemy .
As I walk through the halls, I force myself to remember Viviane bleeding to death on that snowy Scottish hillside. Talan’s work. He helped me out, yes, but he’s still the Butcher of Brittany—the prince who left cities bathed in blood.
We’re not allies.
I reach his room and knock on the door.
His voice pierces the wood: “Come in.”
I step inside a room with towering windows and soaring vaults. Light pours through a rose window etched with the ouroboros, the eternal cycle of life, death, and power. It spills over a four-poster bed of gnarled mahogany, and the air is sweetly scented by the cedar burning in the fireplace.
Talan stands by his desk, pouring a glass of mead for himself and then one for me. His gaze sweeps down my sheer dress, and his eyes meet mine, smoldering a dangerous, fiery copper.
“Finally gracing my chambers.” He hands me the glass of mead. “And all it took was a formal order. I believe I’m losing my touch.”
I smile at him coyly. “I’ve heard rumors you might be dangerous.”
He raises an eyebrow. “ I’m dangerous? You killed Maertisa, then a countess. You’re leaving a trail of bodies in your wake. I think you’re the one people should be careful around, little monster.”
My chest tightens, but I mask my expression. “Just two people. I’m not out there defeating armies. We’re not on the same footing when it comes to trails of bodies.”
“I think we’re more alike than you’re willing to admit. You do what has to be done. You silence those in your way, even if it means severing an artery here and there.”
His words are sinister, but his expression, dark and smoldering, sends heat sliding low in my belly.
“I have my limits.” This close to him, his beauty is shocking, and I can’t stop thinking about the day before and of him pinning me to a tree and lifting the hem of my dress. Something in the way he holds my gaze tells me he’s thinking of the same thing.
He stares at me over the rim of his mead. “And I’d love to find out exactly what your limits are.”
I break his gaze, overwhelmed by the intensity. “How did it go? In Vorgium last night.”
“I buried your father in the gardens outside the Lost Palace beneath a yew tree and marked his grave with a rock in a sacred spot. He’s right next to Nimu?. I thought you might want to visit the grave.”
I stare at him. “You brought his body all the way back to Corbinelle?”
“Last night, in the dark. I know he wasn’t the best father to you, but he’s still the father of a princess of Brocéliande.” He pauses, searching my face. “He deserves to be buried among the honored dead. But we must keep his death a secret. If anyone connects you to Arwenna’s murder, I’ll have a harder time protecting you from the King’s Watch.”
A sharp tendril of guilt coils through me, and I swallow hard. My job would be a lot easier here if he were a straight-up asshole with no redeeming qualities. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. “Thank you, Talan.”
The setting sun casts him in amber. “There’s another reason I asked you here. Back in Aedan’s mansion, it seemed you could use your powers freely. Has the pain gone?”
“I still get a headache when I use my magic, but I can ignore it if I have to.”
“Good, because I’m going to need your magic again very soon.”
“Who’s your target?” I ask.
“Lord Kahedin.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “I know he’s powerful, but isn’t he bedridden with the Ichor Plague? I heard the ladies talking about it. Most of his servants have died.”
“Yes. It’s unfortunately highly contagious and fatal.”
“My mind control powers work with touch. As charming as you might be, my prince, I’m not willing to risk an agonizing death for you.”
Talan leans in slightly, enough for the warmth of his body to wash over me. “It’s a real problem.” His smile is slow, sensual. “But you can always touch me instead. I already know you want to.”
Heat licks down my spine. “What do you mean?”
He swirls the mead in his glass, his gaze never leaving mine. Calculating. Intense. “I can step into Kahedin’s dreams. Unfortunately, I found it difficult to influence him there, but I can take you with me. You can manipulate him from there. You touch me, and I bring you into the dream world.”
I blink. “You can do that?”
He tilts his head, his gaze heavy-lidded. “You’ll need to practice first. You get to do something no one has ever done, Nia. You get to see inside my head.”