Chapter 21
Nate
That voice… it’s like cast iron where Tristan’s is copper.
It holds no capacity for mercy nor compassion, and when the lamps come on, I can’t hold in a frantic yelp, clinging to Tristan’s sturdy form.
“What’s so important that I’m being distracted from my marital duties?”
The sharp edge in his tone reduces me to shudders, and I squeeze my eyes in vain hope that I don’t have to bear the consequences of this man’s anger for as long as I don’t look his way.
I’m a puppet in Tristan’s arms when he pulls me up and sits me on a sofa, all wrapped up in the cloak.
“Really? You think that’s funny?”
The Lord of the Nocturne Court grunts. “Would you rather I kept you waiting until morning? Spit it out already, cousin. And who is this… creature?”
I flinch, because while I should not care what this man calls me, the offensive word still cuts deep. I pull the cloak tightly around me, seeking shelter in the familiar scent clinging to it.
I don’t want to be here.
I want to be somewhere small, contained, where no one will get to judge my damaged body and pathetic shadow.
“This is Gloombane’s promised. I took him from the tower.” Tristan stands up to speak but keeps his hand on my shoulder.
“Why? Have they made their vows away from court? I am losing patience.” I crack open one eye and see the very tip of the Lord’s bare foot moving my way over the carpet.
“No they have not! You want the short version? Certainly!” Tristan raises his voice, and my heart speeds up out of control.
“The captain broke our laws and abused Nate in horrific, despicable ways. Experimented on him, and… stars only know what else! So he is now dead and hopefully being nibbled on by sea fleas as we speak.”
There’s a prolonged silence that makes my stomach twist with nausea.
“You… killed Captain Gloombane?”
“No! He did. As was his right. The Right to Revenge!”
“I do not follow. You’re saying he murdered the captain of the Nightcloaks, and you took him on his word?”
Tristan groans. “You’re not listening to me!”
The Lord steps closer to me again, and I can sense his dark presence within my shadow. I don’t know how, but I do. “Speak to me, human. Did you have the Right to Revenge? What has the captain done?”
I wish I could keep staring at his feet, but he pinches my chin between two fingers and lifts my face until I can meet his gaze—cold yet wild like a storm at sea.
I can now see the familial resemblance between him and Tristan.
They’re both tall, with angular, refined features, but I note the distinct absence of Tristan’s very obvious kindness in the man before me.
The Lord of the Nocturne Court is a viper.
Beautiful. Powerful, but he will show me no mercy if it’s not due.
“What’s your name?” he asks, stepping away when I stop fighting him and keep my chin up despite the shivers coursing through my body.
He wasn’t lying when he claimed to have been brought here straight from bed, but neither his bare chest nor the tousled black hair falling over the fine silken robe take anything away from the majesty of his presence.
Here is a man who was born to rule over others, and I shake under the weight of his cutting gaze.
“N—Nate, Your… Highness.”
“Nate. How come someone with a shadow like yours was taken on by someone of Captain Gloombane’s caliber?
I feel the sudden urge to spit at him, because Gloombane was a monster and doesn’t deserve the respect in Lord Kyran’s voice.
“That’s what you ask him about?” Tristan gets just inches away from the Lord. “His shadow is perfectly fine the way it is. All that matters is that he was saved from the River of Souls, therefore is a worthy Dark Companion. Gloombane couldn’t see the gem right in front of him!”
Lord Kyran squints at his cousin, then… dips his hand into my shadow in a move so surreal I can’t look away. He pulls it out, holding a dark strand barely thicker than hair.
“But you could see it, Tristan? He is promised to you now, Gloombane is dead, and you want me to believe that this puny human managed to kill the Captain of the Nightcloaks?”
I open my mouth, but when Lord Kyran’s gaze settles on me, it’s like facing a blizzard, and air ends up stuck deep down my throat. He shakes his head, focused on Tristan again, his finger wrapping the thread of shadow around it in a casual gesture.
“Why were you intruding? Captain Gloombane sent me a missive about his delay. We are family, cousin, and I owe you a great deal, but do not lie to my face. What happened, really? Was it a crime of passion?”
It’s bright enough for me to spot the flush creeping up Tristan’s face. “It was definitely not cold-blooded. Nate had the Right to Revenge, but given the chance I would have ripped Gloombane apart myself. You don’t understand what he did, Kyran!”
The Lord’s attention is right back on me, and it’s so all-encompassing I can’t blink. “Then why don’t you tell me, Nate? What has he done to deserve death without trial? And how did you manage such a feat?”
A strange rustling makes me frown, but then I notice my own fingers trembling in the very same rhythm and stuff them under my armpits.
This is why we’re here. I need to give him a testimony to exonerate both Tristan and myself, but that knowledge doesn’t make this moment any easier.
I don’t want to think about what happened.
Images of the past keep dogging me either way, but to look over my shoulder on purpose feels—
“He… he hurt me. To make my shadow darker.”
Lord Kyran sighs and walks off before dragging a finely carved mahogany chair closer. “You need to be more specific than that.”
Every muscle and joint in my body aches in protest, and while my judge settles down and looks at me, expecting obedience, I can’t bring myself to speak.
If I do, every word will inevitably turn into a sob, and I can’t bear to fall apart right now.
Tristan has already seen too much of my vulnerability.
I look everywhere but into Lord Kyran’s eyes, and my gaze lands behind him. On a… Christmas tree? It’s tall, dark green, with a pentagram instead of a star on top, black and red baubles, including a few novelty ones like skeleton gingerbread men, skulls, and several purple bats.
I can’t stop myself, I choke out a laugh, because it’s such a surreal thing to witness in this room, I feel like I’m going mad.
Tristan sits on the sofa by my side and puts his arm over me. “We don’t have to do this now. We can get you settled first—”
“We most definitely do,” the Lord cuts in. “Gloombane… was a noble,” he says with a low sigh, “and as much as I want to not deal with his death, I am the order of this realm. What happened?”
I feel as if my voice is locked behind bars, but Tristan’s presence next to me loosens the cage, and I whisper with my eyes closed.
“Beat me. Starved me. Bled me and told me he’ll feed me to sea creatures if my shadow—” A sob gathers in my chest, and I just can’t speak anymore without falling apart.
There is no way to put into words the torture I’ve been through.
Even the two words ‘beat me’ in no way express the reality of the days I spent broken and bruised, of the kicks and punches, of the constant fear for my life.
I’d never experienced violence before Gloombane.
Not really. The way he was able to debase me, change me, twist me into a ‘creature’ begging for mercy, begging for the scraps of food I would have otherwise thrown away.
I always thought I’d be courageous in the face of oppression.
I’ve been to protests, I stood up for what I believed in.
And that monster snapped me like I was the most brittle branch on a tree.
I won’t be able to express this, but I want the interrogation to be over with, so I frantically pull on the fastening of the cloak, then open the furs of my coat enough to present the Lord my bruised and injured body in all its gruesome glory.
There. Does he now understand? Does he see the bones protruding from under my skin?
The scars? The bitemarks left by a vicious sea creature that latched onto me when I was strapped down in the water, utterly defenseless?”
I don’t dare look at Lord Kyran, but Tristan steps in, closing the cloak around me, and pulls me close.
“Enough. You don’t need to do any more of this.”
“Indeed. I am sorry you have been treated this way,” Lord Kyran says in a voice much softer than before. He gets up from the chair and squeezes its back. “You had every right to take your revenge, human, and you shall be safe in my castle as Prince Tristan’s promised.”
I can’t contain the emotions inside me and shoot up despite the sudden movement making my head spin and my ankle hurt. “I don’t belong to anyone! I’m my own man again!”
“This thread says otherwise,” Lord Kyran states, then drops the line of shadow to the floor, where it no longer looks three-dimensional.
I’m wheezing again, and in my efforts to step away, I almost stumble over the seat I’ve been using since we entered this room.
Tristan pulls me in for a hug which I resent, yet it calms me as he strokes my back. “He will need the most urgent medical attention, and since the last thing he needs is becoming court gossip, I shall take him to the Book Mausoleum.”
“You intend to keep your promised a secret?” Lord Kyran asks.
“For as long as it’s his wish, and he’s in no state to make decisions.”
I want to protest, but Tristan’s right. I press my face to his chest, desperate for rest and more pain medication.
“So be it. I will alert our best medics and make sure they understand the need for discretion. I appreciate you coming to me with this, cousin. And if you need anything else, human, you can pass me a note through any of the servants.”