Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Nefrítis
I take a deep breath as I meet his gaze. My chin lifts. I look into the eyes of the man whose blood runs through my veins. The man who almost killed me and all of my friends the first and only time I’ve seen him.
And now I have to convince him to let us go.
“I have something you might want to know,” I start, my voice steady as I hold his gaze.
But maybe I have enough now to convince him. A bargaining chip. The location doesn’t help him much—not when he can’t leave the Shadow Lands. But maybe it could be valuable enough knowledge to let us go.
Daimon blinks, then barks out a laugh. “There isn’t anything I want. Nothing worth enough to give you freedom—nor the release of those other little souls who don’t belong.”
My nostrils flare, and I slide my dagger back into its strap. His gaze flicks down to it, but his eyes are empty when he looks back up at me.
“Not even where Nightfall is?” I ask.
Graylen’s head snaps to me, his shoulder pressing slightly into me for support. I keep my gaze on Daimon, a tiny spark of hope in my chest as his eyes widen slightly.
He won’t know only I can wield it—well…that I hope I can still wield it. I don’t truly know how much my connection to my magic has dulled.
“The dagger.” Daimon huffs a laugh void of emotion.
The spark of hope inside of me begins to flicker.
“The dagger is where it’s meant to be,” he continues.
Either he knows where it is or he’s bluffing; either way, he doesn’t seem like he’s going to bite.
He starts to turn away, his gaze bored.
“Wait,” I growl.
Daimon pauses and raises a brow, waiting for me to continue.
Even if he’s bluffing, he doesn’t know I have a shard from Nightfall. I’ve spent my entire life bargaining with merchants and lords in positions of power. If there’s one good thing that came out of my time in Crea, it’s knowing how to do this.
“You thought that was my big play?” I smirk, carefully sliding the mask I know how to wear so well into place. “A location that I may or may not be lying about?”
His eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms, letting me continue.
“Whatever your plan is, do it soon,” Graylen says into my mind.
“I have this.” I reach into my vest and pull out the wrapped piece of the dagger. “A piece of Nightfall, found in a cave with a depiction of the dagger.”
Among…other things. But that’s all Daimon needs to know.
In the blink of an eye, he’s standing in front of me, hovering so close that Graylen lets out a low warning rumble from his chest. I squeeze his hand and test the tense bond between us, the feel of it there but weak.
“If he wasn’t interested, he would’ve tried to kill us already,” I soothe Graylen. He straightens beside me, so I know he heard the words I sent into his mind. “Play nice.”
“I will until he gives me a reason not to,” Graylen snaps.
Tendrils of darkness snake off of Daimon, his magic reaching for the shard. When the shadows near it, they pause, jolting back as if revolted by the feel of it. Daimon straightens, leaning away from my palm and meeting my gaze.
“Name your price,” Daimon says slowly. “Though releasing all of the souls you’re searching for in the Vale is not on the table.”
Ellerry’s face flashes through my mind, along with Annora and all of the other people in the trial who don’t deserve to be there. I knew it would take something more than information to get them out, but my chest still tightens knowing it isn’t enough.
“Let me and Graylen go.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “And keep this—us being here, us having the shard—to yourself.”
The message is clear enough: keep it from Vidaris. There’s no doubt she knows where the dagger is since one of her little minions has it, and she’ll likely assume it was me who got Graylen out.
But I don’t need her knowing about the piece of Nightfall.
Because if she knows we have it, she might put together that I was able to use it to get in and out of the Vale—that I was able to wield it.
Daimon’s eyes glimmer, bouncing from the shard to me.
“You want me to lie to the Goddess of Vengeance.” He hums and tucks his hands behind his back, then begins to slowly pace in front of us, one lazy step after another.
“To not tell her you possess the missing piece to Nightfall—in exchange for information alone.”
He pauses, tilting his head to the side. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, thinking through the pieces of the story I don’t want him to know. But there’s no avoiding it now.
“You harnessed magic from the shard,” Daimon mutters. His mouth presses briefly into a thin line. “That’s how you got in and out of the Vale.”
I hold his stare. I can feel Graylen’s focus on me, too, but I nod to Daimon, my patience wearing thin.
“What was the price?” Daimon asks softly, the words deceptively…caring.
A flicker of hope sparks in my chest that there may be more to him than what I’m seeing.
Then he tilts his head to the side, and that hope diminishes.
There’s a curiosity in his midnight eyes, a look that makes me feel like I’m a dancing monkey rather than someone he cares about.
There’s a sharp ache in my chest at seeing the man who’s supposed to be my father not react the way a father should.
I shove it away, just like all the times I did with Reichardt growing up. Daimon doesn’t need to know that I gave it pieces of my magic…my soul—in fact, things could go very bad if he realizes that was the price.
Even with my Essence intact, he could easily overpower me and steal the shard for himself. But he doesn’t seem to realize it could lead him to the dagger—otherwise, I have no doubt that’s what he would’ve done.
“I don’t know yet.” The lie glides out of me smoother than I thought it would.
A surge of worry pushes down the tether between Graylen and me. He knows I’m lying, and judging by the way Daimon narrows his eyes, he knows it, too.
My muscles tense when he opens his mouth—no doubt to catch me in my lie—but instead he says, “Shame.”
I blink, my brows pulling together as he moves on. It takes me a minute to realize he’s talking again, the words not reaching my ears as my brain rushes to catch up.
“What?” I breathe.
Graylen’s hand tightens on my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. “He said he agrees to the terms,” he murmurs into my thoughts. “He’ll let us go and keep our secret.”
Daimon watches us closely, his mouth tilting into a frown.
He’s going to let us go. And the sooner I can get Graylen somewhere else, the better.
“The shard,” Daimon says sharply.
My stomach turns at the thought of giving it to him, but what other option do I have? We know where the dagger is; we’ll have to worry about how to get the shard back later.
Still wrapped in its cloth, I drop it into his outstretched hand. Before I can blink, it’s gone—nothing but curling shadows in its wake.
Unease slithers into my chest as the agreement settles into place.
“Go.” Daimon’s voice is final.
Without needing any more prompting, we turn, Graylen nearly putting all of his weight on me now. I take a step forward, gritting my teeth, straining to hold both of us up. Graylen is barely lucid, his body heavy and mouth mumbling nonsense.
“But Lunaria.” Daimon’s words stop me, and my muscles tense, waiting for the betrayal to come.
I pull my magic to just beneath my fingertips, ready to defend myself the moment he shows any signs of going back on our deal.
My fire sparks, flickering with a newfound weakness.
My stomach sinks as I remember just how defenseless we are right now.
“Once you step out of this realm, you will be on your own in Crea.”
My brows raise as I look over my shoulder at him. He knows we’re going to Crea. And of course we’ll be on our own; we knew this when we decided to go. That flicker of hope returns, wondering if there’s a part of him that cares.
I wait for him to continue, to explain or demand something more. Instead, he simply watches me. There’s a brief flash of something in his eyes, and if I didn’t know who he was—what he was—I would think that there was concern there.
The moment I see it, it’s gone. His face blank and gaze hard.
“Our deal does not extend into keeping you safe if Vidaris learns the truth on her own,” Daimon adds. “Only those with the blood of the gods can use it without being wholly consumed.” Though his words are sharp, his voice is hollow. The bite in his tone dulled.
The truth. That there’s something deeper running through my veins than just being a fae.
“Do you know why I have it?” The question slips out, my eagerness to learn more outweighing his possible backlash for pushing it further.
Daimon’s eyes darken, the midnight turning pitch-black.
“Leave,” he says, voice dangerously low. “While you still can.”
I hesitate, wanting to know more. But Daimon is already disappearing into a shroud of shadows.
With a quick sigh, I turn away and carry Graylen to where Leda and Adrian await.