Chapter 37 Prince Sloth
THIRTY-SEVEN
Prince Sloth
MY MATE PACED in front of a writhing mass of shadows, her lips moving too quickly for me to read. She was having one heated discussion with someone.
But I only saw her and her shadows. And the army of shadow wraiths waiting in the wings, ready to be dispatched.
The Nocturnas that had attacked in the temple in Bellington were only a small fraction of the legion of warriors that packed this chamber now.
When we’d shifted to the Court of Fear, the moment my boots hit the stone floor, a ward shot up inside my mind, trapping me in my own body. I could see, but I couldn’t hear what I was saying or understand my actions.
I fought back, trying to use every last ounce of my power, but it only seemed to lock me further in my own head.
Lore hadn’t noticed.
Whatever she was seeing, whatever nightmare, it had deceived her with its illusion. She’d been lost to it from the moment she attacked War.
I couldn’t imagine the strength she possessed to have fought back this long. The Book of Nightmares must be furious that it hadn’t outright won yet.
I wondered how much longer she could withstand the mental assault. I also couldn’t help but wonder how long I could last, watching as my body moved and acted of its own volition while I remained powerless.
Her eyes were entirely black whenever I caught glimpses of them.
Another sign that the Liber Noctem was still in control.
I kept tugging at our bond, sending encouragement to her whenever I felt a strong wave of emotion barreling toward me.
I was quickly realizing that the heart might be as ferocious as the mind.
No matter how trapped I was, or how lost she seemed to be, there was still that bond shimmering in the dark.
Lore was ruled by her emotions, her love. And she was winning by that force alone.
I hadn’t seen Nyantha make an appearance yet, but there was a dark suspicion that was growing stronger the longer I observed the dreamweaver.
And the shadow wraiths that were poised to strike at her command.
As far as I knew, those shadow warriors were loyal only to the Goddess of Night. They’d never acted on behalf of anyone else.
Which meant…
I knew what it meant but couldn’t process the how.
Lore and Nyantha were one and the same. And I… loved her.
I bellowed her name again and simultaneously tugged on our bond.
I felt her, weakened, on the other end of that tether, but she was there. She wasn’t lost to darkness and shutting me out. And I wasn’t so lost to whatever magic was overwhelming me that I couldn’t reach her, even in some small capacity.
And that gave me hope.
Lore was strong; she would survive.
No matter who she was or had been in the past, she was Lore now and that was all that counted. Everyone deserved a redemption arc. And it was fitting that this dreamweaver, obsessed with all things story, might get that wish.
Lore being Nyantha… It was a twist I hadn’t seen coming, but it didn’t matter who she was. She was mine. My mate.
The perfect balance of heart to my mind.
I poured every memory of her I had into that bond, all the sunshine and sass that filled her soul. How she’d looked to me in those cursed stockings with ribbons. The way her swagger on the pirate ship stole my breath.
The ridiculous way she’d ridden me into battle during the brawl.
She was so beautifully filled with light.
Nyantha had once been simply the goddess who ruled over slumber, who’d been more inclined to grant dreams.
From the texts I’d read on her, she loved to weave daydreams and joy; it was why she’d been so popular among the mortals who worshipped the night. When she’d been her highest self, she sounded very much like Lore.
Something twisted along the way. Something had made her forget who she was.
But Lore was the epitome of a dreamer, she simply needed to latch onto that with all she was. If she was Nyantha, that would be the way to win the Trials and set herself free. The realms would be safe. The Court of Fear would be restored to a court of daydreams. And we could have forever.
It also explained why her dreamweaver magic never manifested the way it should have.
Nyantha was technically the queen of dreamweavers, but since her magic had been taken, that prevented her from fully accessing her magic.
Just like Lore. And Lore’s increasing power occurred after each test she passed.
Which indicated her power was slowly being returned to her, just as I suspected it would be if she was the Goddess of Night.
Her wraiths grew agitated each time I tugged on that bond, like they sensed her darkness slipping further away.
She stopped pacing and squared her shoulders.
Whatever inner war she’d been battling, she won.
She faced me, and I couldn’t help but admire her.
Dressed as she was in a gown that looked like the fabric had been stitched from the night sky itself, I couldn’t help but think she really did look like a deity now.
It was the midnight blade in her fist that gave me pause. Even through the ward keeping me imprisoned I felt it’s power thrumming.
I almost thought I saw the phoenix tear nestled in its hilt, but she moved it from my sight too quickly to be sure.
Lore stared up at me, and for the first time since we’d landed in the Court of Fear, when our gazes connected, I felt my mind unlock. I was no longer being fully controlled, but I sensed I wasn’t yet free.
A bolt of awareness went through me, and I shuddered with the pleasure of it. If she felt that same ripple, she didn’t let it show.
I drew in a deep breath, filling my lungs with her scent.
“Lore.”
I took a step toward her, but she immediately retreated.
“Don’t.”
I halted in place, my muscles tense.
Her voice held no warmth or recognition. I searched her eyes. They were no longer black; they’d returned to her normal chocolate brown.
Still, unease settled between us.
My magic was almost depleted now; whatever had happened to trap me had used up a lot of power, and I couldn’t get a good read on her emotions. If I didn’t return to my court soon, I would be in serious trouble.
Her face was set in an expressionless mask that gave nothing away as she scanned me.
She studied my eyes intently, lingered for a moment on my lips, and then continued her appraisal, moving slowly from my shoulders to my feet.
The air between us grew charged, almost vibrating with tension.
She was my mate, yet somehow, she wasn’t.
I couldn’t tell whether she was pretending she didn’t know me, or if her memories had truly been erased.
If my suspicions were correct, if Lore and Nyantha were one and the same, then maybe there was nothing left of the woman I loved.
When she brought her attention back to mine, a trickle of fear went through me. There was a hardness in her eyes, determination.
Behind her, her shadow wraiths began to pace. The Nocturnas thirsted for fear; they felt it stirring and it was making them ravenous.
“Lore. Whatever you’re being shown, or told, it’s the Book of Nightmares. It’s meant to deceive, that’s how it wins. You must trust in—”
Her arm shot out, the tip of her blade digging into the eye of the phoenix tattoo on my chest.
I didn’t breathe.
A trickle of blood slipped down my body.
Her attention followed the line, a shadow darkening her gaze.
“Maybe you’re the one who should trust, Blondie. I thought we’d bonded.”
“I—”
I blinked slowly. Her expression was as unreadable as ever, but that name…
And she’d said that to me before, when I’d been impaled by the spiders. But now it felt like there was a deeper meaning woven into her words.
My mind raced. Lore knew. She knew we were bonded; she might not realize how, but there was awareness.
“Do you understand me, or do I need to teach you a lesson?” She pushed a little harder and I clenched my teeth. “I’m the main character; you’re my sidekick.”
If she was acting, I would make sure she had an awards ceremony.
But this was my mate. And I had to believe that our bond was strong enough to overcome any dark magic. She wanted my trust. I’d give it.
Lore was letting me know she was here and she was in control. Not the Liber Noctem or anyone else.
She leaned in, driving her blade deeper.
I gasped as something took hold of me; something was draining my power.
The tattoo flared brightly and began flowing into Lore’s dagger.
My mate was going to kill me and I’d just—
Her gaze was steady on mine. I noticed the slight tightening around her eyes. She was not as calm as she appeared.
I breathed through the pain, then I started to analyze what I was really feeling, focusing on one aspect at a time.
Even though the blade was clearly draining magic from me, I wasn’t getting weaker.
I should feel weak, but it was having the opposite effect. The more the light faded from the tattoo ink, the more I felt a thrum of power replacing it. The tattoo itself wasn’t disappearing, but whatever magic fueled it was.
I considered that and understanding dawned. The tattoo and book were connected, and it had somehow been siphoning my power. That was what locked me away in my own mind—the Liber Noctem.
My gaze crashed to hers and a flicker of emotion passed through her. She knew I’d just pieced together what she was doing.
Lore was fucking brilliant.
My mate leaned in, so close I felt her lips brush against my ear.
That connection blazed between us, stronger and more powerful than before. This time I knew she’d felt it. Her breath hitched.
Our moment was shattered almost instantly.
A few feet away, a single stone split open in the floor, the tile shattering as golden fire licked up from the cracks.
From the chaos, something began to take form; first a wisp of smoke, then the gleam of gilded edges forcing themselves into being, its cover hardening into blackened leather veined with living shadow.
The Book of Nightmares was now unbound.