Chapter 15
Tristan
The moon is especially beautiful today. Its blood red glow casts a dense veil on everything it touches, elevating the landscape to new heights of beauty.
Legend has it that a long, long time ago an ancestor of my mother’s fought a giant dragon.
They kept battling even when the beast flew into the sky, eventually reaching the moon, and they’ve been at it to this day.
Each time the Bloodweed bleeds, we can all see it.
I’ve always found it curious that the dragon injures the knight in intervals so regular blood moons are marked in every calendar, but I no longer question the tradition. If my ancestor has been gone long enough no one remembers his name, then precise details of the magic at play don’t matter.
Such things are for the astronomers to understand. My job is to hit things really hard, kill monsters, and save innocents.
I arrive at the shore of Grief Ocean to Stone’s relief, but to give credit where it’s due, my kelpie friend hasn’t complained about the pace I imposed on him.
We both like a physical challenge. The trip itself took so long it required me to stop for the night, but we’ve finally arrived, and I’m not taking no for an answer.
I will visit Nate, even if it’s to find out he doesn’t care to see me or Lady.
The waves close to the shore are a dark wine red, but farther away, a dense fog obscures the tower so that only its very roof is visible.
On the pier, an elf with a sullen expression gets up at the sight of me.
I spot a small boat behind him and approach without hesitation, my heart already beating faster.
I am so close. I could see Nate within the next quarter of an hour and find out if some aspect of my behavior offended him so much he no longer wishes to exchange letters.
“I need passage to the tower,” I say, dismounting Stone. On the way, I rode past a homestead with hatchlings in the garden and debated whether I should purchase one as a gift, but in the end I figured the young bird would just end up as a snack for Lady.
Nate would be devastated if that happened, so instead I got him some fruit, which I grab from the saddlebag when the ferryman speaks. “Impossible.”
It takes me a full two seconds to process his answer. Why would he deny me, a member of the Nightcloaks, and a prince of the Nocturne Court? “I am Prince Tristan Bloodweed, and I demand entry.”
I don’t often throw my name around like this, but Nate is so very close, and I will do everything in my power to see his sun kissed face.
But the ferryman shakes his head. “No can do, ser. The fog’s too dense tonight. You might not respect your life, but for a simple man like myself, a beating heart is the most important thing one has. You’ll have to wait.”
I look out into the fog reminiscent of blood vapors.
I’m not having any of this. “Suit yourself,” I snarl and slide the parcel with the gift into a hidden pocket inside my cloak. “I would have paid well for passage.”
And with that, I let my wings emerge from my back. One strong flap propels me up and off the pier. I will not wait another day, or another hour.
“Ser! The captain doesn’t allow it!” the ferryman yells as if I am to care about that.
Gloombane can relieve me of my duty for all I care.
But he cannot keep me away from Nate. So what that they’ve been promised to each other?
The future Dark Companion is still a man in his own right and shall receive guests if he so pleases.
I attempt to fly above the fog, avoiding it altogether, but as I approach, the pressure on my wings increases, as if they’re being weighed down by particles of lead. I lose my breath as I rapidly lose altitude, plunging into the red mist.
It’s unlike water yet seems to have currents that try to push me around.
I feel trapped like a fly in a cobweb, but every time I’m about to plunge into the waves, I manage to force myself up.
I’m so focused on fighting the forces around me, it takes me a while to register something else.
The fog is icy cold. We’re in the middle of winter, so that shouldn’t be so strange, but I recall the few times Gloombane has used this kind of magic around me.
I’m not even sure if it’s shadowcraft or not.
I swear the fog he created felt just as cold. Unnatural.
I flap my wings harder to go up, because unless I keep the top of the tower within sight, I might end up lost in the chilly mist.
I’m about to break through the cloud and peek above it when a volley of shadows appears to my left and shoots toward me like a flurry of blades. I manage to twist my body in the air, avoiding their bite, but the small, eerily familiar creatures spin through the air, chasing me.
Captain Gloombane isn’t the only shadow-wielder who gives his craft this kind of form, but after working alongside him for nearly two years, I know their exact shape is singular like the print of one’s finger.
Why fortify the tower to this extent? Is he expecting an invasion of gryphons? Because sea creatures aren’t about to crawl out just to attack his damn tower, and I’ve not been notified of any threats—
I don’t have time to ponder this, because the bats made of shadow are back, and heading for me without a single sound. I plunge toward the sea and change direction just before hitting the stormy waters.
“Fuck all of you!” I yell into the dense red cloud.
Relief floods my body at the sight of the moon’s blurry silhouette looming high above me.
It’s the only guide I need to find my way to the tower.
I think back to the River of Souls, and how desperate Nate must have been when he fought the pull of its deadly currents, yet he still held Lady close.
I imagine him reaching out to me the same way he had back then.
Maybe it’s pure pride that powers me, but I, Tristan Bloodweed, am not about to die mauled by shadow bats and eaten by crabs.
Despite fatigue clawing its talons into my flesh, I’m starting to get a hang of the bats’ movements, and after outsmarting them one last time, I use momentum to leave the cloud, emerging in the clear air around the tower.
I jerk my body back, flapping my wings to slow down, but my hands and feet still meet the salt-crusted stone, and I finally come to a halt. One glance over the shoulder confirms the bats are confined to the fog.
I take a deep breath and assess the tower beneath my feet as wind makes my hair thrash over my face. When I look over the edge of the stark stone wall, I spot several large windows with no glass.
Finally, a refuge from struggle. I fly down with ease and enter through one of them. The round room is pretty much empty save for a fallen chair. Understandable. Who’d want to sit here in the cold? I spot a door, which must surely lead to stairs, so I head there with a growing sense of urgency.
A jealous part of me I’ve tried to keep contained so far crawls out in full force.
I’ve said it many times to myself. Gloombane has no interest in men.
But what if Nate’s sweet smile, and charm, and kindness has broken through to him?
He wouldn’t be the first elf to change preference over the years.
I make my way down faster, and while I’m trying not to let those thoughts get to me, my blood starts running ever more green. Gloombane knows of our attachment—I’m sure of it now—and he’s keeping Nate here to make him forget me. I won’t let that happen.
The stairs run in a spiral on the outer edge of the tower, and salty air brushes through my hair whenever I pass one of the small windows, but this isn’t my first time here. When my foot sinks into a plush navy blue carpet with silver edges, I know I’ve reached the captain’s quarters.
My heart stills when I see green light pouring through an open doorway, but upon peeking inside, I find the lushly decorated interior empty.
The rocking chair in front of the fire has a book left on the seat though, and vapor looms above a cup of tea, proving Gloombane can’t be far.
I’m about to clear my throat to make my presence known when the harsh tone of Gloombane’s voice makes me freeze.
“Another month wasted! I don’t know if there’s any progress whatsoever, because it feels like moving one grain of sand at a time.”
He can’t possibly be speaking to Nate like that, can he? Confused, I realize the sound is coming from another flight of stairs starting on the other side of the cozy apartment. The carpet muffles my footsteps, and I listen for an answer as I move toward the conversation like a cat.
I don’t think I heard an answer, but Gloombane goes on, his voice moving my way.
“Oh, for moon’s sake, stop your whining. You’re so useless I should have thrown you back into the river after all!”
I’m not backing out now. I’m halfway down when I hear a sob and my mind fogs up with burning hot smoke, because it sounds like Nate, even if somehow… faint, drained of all the things that made him shine when we first met.
Each step takes me further down the narrow flight of stairs.
There are no windows here—just bare walls and torches of swamplight to illuminate my way, but the farther I get from Captain Gloombane’s quarters the heavier the scent of the sea becomes.
It’s as if I’m descending into a lost cavern that can only be accessed by water, and I half-expect to step on the remains of some poor sea creature on the way there.
“You should be thankful,” Gloombane spits out, his feet tapping against stone just a bit further.
“Anyone else wouldn’t have given you this chance after a single glance at that puny shadow!
With me, your life will eventually be worth something,” he adds and then the footsteps head my way as my head pounds with disbelief.
I step into a small room where the staircase ends, and I don’t need to assume from the number of steps I’ve taken to get here to know I’ve now reached the cellars.
There are no windows here, nor any conveniences—just bare floors and a few pieces of metal furniture.
My breath catches at the fresh red glimmering on a saw left on a wide table with obvious cutting marks.
The voices come from an open door across the room, and my feet move so swiftly I don’t notice Gloombane when he walks into my chest with a low snarl.
He opens his mouth, about to put me in my place for being in his way, but then his blue eyes widen in recognition. He pushes on my chest to create distance as I arch to look over his shoulder, into the room behind him. Even from here it smells of damp, seaweed, and blood.
“T-Tristan. What in the high seas—Out!”
Captain Gloombane is a proud man. Decisive. Authoritative. Yet for the first time I’m hearing a tremble at the very end of the sentence coming from his mouth.
“Out, now!” he repeats with more confidence, but when he moves to shut the door behind him, I grab it to keep it open.
“I demand to see Nate,” I say, my voice as dark as the shadow in my heart.
Something’s wrong.
I need to see Nate.
Gloombane slaps my cheek with the back of his hand. “You might be a prince, but I am still your superior officer. How dare you oppose m—”
I slam my forehead into his face.
Bone breaks. Blood splashes my skin, but Gloombane stumbles aside, and I charge through the space he vacated.
“Nate?” I yell out as I step into the dark room, frantically looking around for him. Water from an inner pool splashes against the cold stone wall in gentle waves.
I scan this dungeon, and there’s another prisoner here, but no sign of—
I look back at the emaciated, bruised body chained to the wall in such disbelief my mind can’t handle what it already knows is true. There’s just too much to take in, but then the person looks up at me with dazed black eyes, and I can’t deny it anymore.
It’s Nate.
His lovely curls have been shaved off so harshly he has scars on his head, his cheeks are sunken.
He’s naked, and that only exposes how thin he is.
Paler than the moon, shivering like a wet mouse, his ankle unnaturally twisted and swollen, he’s chained to the wall by a rusty collar that’s turned his neck dark.
He sits by a pile of rags, there’s an empty bowl next to the pallet, and one of his arms is locked inside a metal contraption that keeps an open wound bleeding straight into the water.
When his gaze finds mine, emotion chokes me so violently I can’t bring myself to utter a sound, but as I step toward him, he shakes his head and sobs.
“No… not again,” he rasps and twists his head in an attempt to look away.
I can count every rib on him, but the bruises staining every bit of skin within sight?
There’s too many. “Why do you always give me hope just to rip it away? What did I do?”
“Nate, sweetheart, I’ve got you. I’m here,” I whisper, because finding my voice is a struggle when I’m trying to comprehend the extent of the horror before me.
Big fat leeches swarm in the water, feeding on his blood, and I see red. Hugs and comfort can wait until we’re out of this den of suffering.
I pull out my sword and slam it down onto the chain attaching him to the wall. Sparks fly, but my weapon’s sharper than leviathan teeth, and the metal breaks after only three strikes.
“You have no idea what you’ve stepped into!” Gloombane roars from the door, hand pressed to his bleeding nose. “It’s your fault. You made me bond with him, and I’m just working with the hand I’ve been dealt.”
At my feet, Nate flinches at the sharp tone in Gloombane’s voice, like an animal punished until it’s learned to obey. He’s been here for two months.
Two months.
While I whined to Sabine about not getting enough letters or an invitation.
I’m going to be sick.
I left him here, at Gloombane’s mercy, foolishly believing the captain would prove himself honorable.
I reassured him. I made promises, and now here he is—shaking from the cold on a pile of rags.
No words exist to describe the hate burning in my heart.
Gloombane doesn’t deserve my answer. I burn with the need to deliver justice. He could be the Lord of the Nocturne Court himself, and it wouldn’t have saved him from my wrath.