Page 122 of The King has Fallen
“A great deal,” he rumbled. “I pray the day comes when we might dance together in Valgorath,” he added, giving the word the strange, guttural roll that the Nephilim used when pronouncing their capital city and other ancient words.
I blinked. “The Nephilim dance?”
He huffed, shaking his head. “You think we’re nothing but brutes and mindless grunts. Our city is full of… so muchhumanity, Yilan. A war camp… it is its own world. When you return home, ask your soldiers. They’ll tell you: Men at war are… different.”
I already knew it to be true, but realized I hadn’t applied that to the Nephilim. With their King here in the thick of it, I had assumed this was how they always functioned.
“So this… brutality? This disregard for women that you’ve described—”
“Oh, that is rooted in who we are, it’s true,” he said with a dark growl. “But it is not allthat we are. Our city is beautiful, and ancient. We have scholars and artists and women who are there by choice. It is notallso dark. You would be surprised.”
I would be, but I didn’t tell him so. He had already proven that he thought deeper and conducted himself with honor. I supposed it made sense that he wasn’t theonlyone.
“Sing for me, Yilan. Please?”
I cleared my throat and nodded, casting my mind back for a song that was right for him, and praying no one else who would understand was near enough to hear it.
Hold my heart.
Hold it true.
Leave me not in a world without you.
Hold my hand,
Hold it safe.
Don’t let me go without you apace.
For the world is dark.
But your eyes light my path.
For the world is dark.
But your hand is my staff.
So, hold my heart.
Hold it true.
Hold my hand,
Hold it fast.
Hold me now, and tomorrow.
Hold me. Don’t let me go.
Hold me, my heart.
Don’t let me go.
My voice was growing husky by the last line. I let the final note fade slowly, then sighed.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Did you sing those words for me, or—”
“Of course.”
