Chapter 33
Mirielle was having another dream. She was walking through the castle again. A room she had never seen before was masked with shadows left by the waning moon, full of blues and dark woods.
Something felt very wrong.
The darkness, it pushed on her like a living thing. She tried to escape from it, to find a light, to go outside. But she couldn't move. It was like she was trapped in someone else's body.
She began to move involuntarily through a door that led down a steep passage. She disappeared beneath the shadows of the dark cold halls.
Every instinct told her to run. But her body ignored her, continuing on through the stone passages.
She kept opening doors, checking rooms. All of them dark. All of them empty and lifeless save for furniture.
Cold invaded her again. It tunneled into her heart and chilled her soul.
She opened a door that led to a washroom. It was small and plain. A single window lay fixed to the wall, spilling moonlight across smooth tiles.
She entered. Then she turned and what she saw terrified her.
A mirror lay fixed to the wall but the reflection that stared back at her wasn't her own.
It wasn't even human. It resembled a man only its skin was weathered and pale like ash.
He looked ancient, a creature that was neither dead nor alive but had lived for far too long.
Ice-blue eyes stared back at her, glinting in the moonlight.
His steady gaze pierced her chest and froze something inside of her.
A slow smile grew across its face.
"There you are." Its voice was quiet, almost warm. That only made it more terrifying.
*
Dane woke to the sound of the tent shifting.
Through half-lidded eyes, he watched Mirielle step through its entrance into the night. Reis was scouting somewhere in the forest outside. Kellan and Lettie were sleeping soundly beneath a pile of furs.
At first, Dane thought nothing of it. People got up during the night, especially women. But as the tent flap closed behind her, something struck him funny. Her expression felt off, like she was seeing without really seeing. Like she was looking through the world instead of at it.
Dane frowned.
Worry climbed into him, irrational worry, Dane reminded himself. But he couldn't let go of the nagging feeling that sat on his chest. His instinct told him it was wrong. All wrong.
For several moments he lay there arguing with himself. When her footsteps were out of hearing distance, something in him gave way.
Dane swore under his breath. He pushed himself upright, pulled his boots on and grabbed his sword and slipped from the tent.
Moonlight washed over the snow. Ahead of him, Mirielle was already moving between the trees.
For a moment he lingered at the edge of camp. This was a terrible idea. The last thing he wanted was for her to discover he'd followed her. He had been building Mirielle's trust over these past few weeks. She was feeling safer around him. He was risking that.
Still...
His instincts were screaming at him and they were usually right.
He spat a curse under his breath and relented. He started following her, promising that once she had stopped to relieve herself, he would retreat immediately.
He stalked behind her quietly as guilt crashed into him. But there was something off about her movements. Something was too sure. Mirielle always walked carefully.
Mirielle paused for a moment and Dane froze. For a heartbeat he was certain she'd spotted him. She slowly turned her head, gazing across a moonlit clearing and her silver eyes met his.
But there was no recognition in her eyes. No awareness. After a moment, she simply turned away and continued walking.
Mirielle kept walking deeper into the trees. They grew thicker around them. The farther she walked, the more concerned he became. She was too far from camp. Mirielle knew better than this.
Dane became very quiet. Something was wrong, very wrong. He could feel it in his bones.
Then she stopped.
*
Mirielle woke up in a dark forest. For a moment she simply stood there, confused and disoriented. Snow drifted silently through the air around her. Tall pines loomed on every side, their branches heavy with white.
She turned in a full circle. Nothing. Nobody. There was no camp. No fire. No light. Only snow, cliffs and trees in every direction. Cold dread grew in her chest.
"Reis?" She called his name instinctively. As if saying his name would wake her from a nightmare. "Reis!" she called louder, desperate.
No response.
She looked up at the sky. It was still dark. Snowflakes drifted softly from the pine boughs above, resting on her hair.
Then she heard movement. Relief rushed into her for a moment, but only briefly.
Men began appearing around her. Men she didn't know. Dark men. Dirty men. They emerged as if the trees themselves were birthing shadows.
Mirielle stumbled backwards.
"Nice night for a walk." A large bald man covered in scars appeared between two trees. He was gruff and bearded. A fur pelt hung over his broad shoulders, cloaking his armor. Every step carried the heavy certainty of a man who had spent his life in violent company.
"Who are you." It was more of a demand than a question.
"Come quietly, queen, and nobody gets hurt."
Mirielle walked back a step. "Leave me alone!"
The man started walking towards her with measured movement like a hunter approaching a frightened animal. As if knowing she would bolt if he moved too quickly.
Mirielle turned, ready to run. Only to find more warriors behind her.
"Can't do that," the man said with a voice too quiet for his appearance. "'Fraid I have orders."
The world tilted beneath her feet. Her body began to shake and her chest emptied. She knew this feeling, the cold certainty of what came next—they were going to take her. Nobody was coming because nobody knew where she was. Terror surged through her chest.
"Reis!" she called his name again, desperately, as if it were a prayer that would come true if only she said it loud enough.
There was no answer. Only the cold air breathing on her skin.
The man was almost on her now.
"Please." Her voice shook beneath her fright.
He reached for her.
A blade and a blur of black crashed through her vision. The man fell sideways in a heap as Dane slammed into him, driving his sword into the man's neck.
Relief washed over Mirielle for a moment. Then she saw Dane's face—terror. Pure abject terror.
"Mirielle." His voice was shaking as he took in the clearing. There were too many. "Mirielle, stay down."
Mirielle dropped obediently. Dane took a defensive stance over her. His sword angled across his chest, his body between Mirielle and the men closing in.
He wasn't even wearing armor.
Then a man lunged and Dane moved. He cleaved the first man. His sword broke through the man's guard and cleaved through flesh, spraying blood across snow. Then he fell in a heap at his feet.
More men started coming from the shadows, challenging him.
Dane fell back on instinct, calling on every lesson Reis had ever taught him. He stuck to the fundamentals like it was his religion, cleaving one and then the other. Then a parry. Men began to fold to the ground around him.
He risked a glance over his shoulder at Mirielle. She was trembling madly on her knees below him. Tears were already coming down her face.
Anger twisted in his chest.
No.
They could not have her. Not without going through him first.
Suddenly everything was moving. A group of men charged at Dane. He pushed his feet into the snow, anchoring himself on his heels. He blocked two blades but missed the third. He twisted away but the blade sliced across his shoulder. Dane breathed a pained grunt through clenched teeth.
He spun, slipping past one of their defenses and sliced his chest. Then he twisted and bore his sword down against another with such force that the warrior dropped his grip. Payment for it followed quickly.
Dane was backing up and Mirielle retreated on the ground with him.
Eventually the tide began to shift. He was making headway.
Flesh parted beneath steel as Dane slammed into man after man.
One pile of limbs and armor fell in a heap to the ground.
Then another. Then another. Blood and sweat drenched Dane from head to toe.
At last the forest was silent. Mirielle scrambled to her feet.
"Dane—"
He was breathing heavily, his hands on his knees, one clutching his sword. Blood poured from a wound on his shoulder. His hair and body were drenched in blood, most of it belonging to others.
"Dane." Mirielle's voice was shaking. "You're hurt."
Then the ground moved. The snow below her seemed to tremble.
Dane's head snapped up.
"Fuck!" Dane cursed as he rounded on the darkness.
A massive troll appeared through a veil of black, easily three times Dane's height, all gray skin stretched over thick slabs of muscle. Its rotund belly protruded from a dirty leather belt. It carried a great steel axe, chipped and scarred from previous battles.
All of Dane's attention focused on it. He took a wide stance. Then he switched to offense and charged like black steel given life.
The troll swung and Dane dodged. Its mighty axe, narrowly missing his shoulder, slammed into the snow sending powder into the air.
Dane went for its feet. A flash of steel and blood sprayed from the great troll's ankle.
The troll spun and Dane lifted his sword to guard himself.
Metal rang against metal as the great axe met his sword.
Dane fought the weight furiously, growling through his teeth as pain lanced down his arm.
It wasn't enough. His sword became flush with his chest as the great axe cleaved into his skin.
Dane's cry shattered from his throat. Then he spun away from the force and sliced his sword through the great troll's stomach.
The troll roared, loud enough to shake the snow from the trees. Blood and organs poured out of it, falling in clumps on the forest floor.
It fell to its knees as Dane stumbled back. The troll landed with a heavy thud at his feet.
Dane staggered around the troll. It was still alive but unconscious from blood loss. Dane let out a ragged cry as he drove his sword through the great troll's skull.
Then Dane's hand slipped from the hilt. For a moment he stared at it, like he couldn't understand why he'd let go.
Then his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground.
"Dane!"
Mirielle was moving before she realized it. She stumbled through the churned snow and fallen branches and fell beside him so hard her dress tore on the stone beneath the drifts.
His face had gone ghostly pale. The color was draining from him with terrifying speed. His breathing came shallow and uneven.
"Dane, look at me."
His eyes struggled to focus. For a moment they found hers. A weak smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Safe," he murmured in a breath. Then his eyes fluttered shut.
"Dane!" Mirielle's cry was laced with panic. He was bleeding. His tunic was already soaked with inky red. A massive gash tracked across his chest, spilling blood onto the forest floor.
Mirielle didn't even think.
"No!"
She slammed her hands to his chest and poured light into it.
The light fell onto the wound like water filling a crack.
Its warmth spread between her fingers, warm and comforting.
It lit up the forest like a beacon, the light weaving through trees in radiant beams. Silver-white light spilled across the snow and turned every drifting flake into a falling star, illuminating the woodland around her.
The air hummed. The power pouring from her felt endless—warm, childlike and ancient all at the same time.
Mirielle breathed heavily as she started to feel her energy drain from her. Her pulse thundered in her ears as weakness flooded her body.
She had healed before, small cuts and bruises Nyteny never knew she had. But nothing like this. Nothing this dire. She was battling death.
Nausea rolled in her stomach and her vision blurred but she pressed on anyway. She didn't know if it would be enough. But she knew, with perfect certainty, she needed to try. Losing Dane was not an option.
"Please, Dane," she prayed quietly as another tear left her, falling into the wound.
She felt the wound begin to close. Flesh and shattered rib mended themselves, pulled together by strings of light, weaving and pulling the fissured wound shut.
Footsteps sounded in the forest nearby.
Reis stood at the clearing's edge, covered in blood. Black hair wet from fighting, completely and utterly still. His eyes were fixed on her, on the light pouring out of her.
"Mirielle."
Mirielle went rigid. For a moment, she closed her eyes. For a moment, dread filled her chest.
No.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Ten years of fear surged through her at once. Every secret. Every lie. Every sleepless night spent terrified of discovery.
Then something inside her snapped and the fear burned away.
Her breath came in ragged pulls as she lifted her gaze to meet his. Tears streamed down her face, illuminated by the light below her.
Every ounce of terror she had felt over the last ten years ignited into incandescent fury. Her eyes flashed with naked challenge, locking Reis in an open dare written in silver.
He knew her secret. He could not have it. It was not a gift for kings. It was not a power for him to chain to his throne.
Her light pulsed brighter, ancient and brilliant and terrible.
Reis took an involuntary step back, as though his body had made a decision before his mind could stop him.
Mirielle saw it. His hesitation. His uncertainty—the Blood King recoiling. Something fierce and broken unfurled inside her chest.
Good.
Let him fear it. Let him fear her.
The light surged one final time, bathing the forest in blinding white.
Then the world tilted.
The light vanished.
And Mirielle fell into darkness.