Page 119 of Nocturn

One moment I had been staring at Miriam, and the next, I was here.

My arms were pinned and my legs trailed behind me as I was dragged across the rug. In front of me, leading the way, was the wide stature of Lord Bjorn. Miriam had been the one to out me—by choice this time—for love.

Images of fleurlets flashed across the carpet, braced by glinting onyx stone. No moonlight, nothing but pitch darkness. It was Nocturn.

They dropped me, and I crumpled. Using every bit of effort to push up, I called, “Piper.” I blinked blearily and reached to grab her from the officer standing a pace behind me. She dangled from his grip, and I managed to snatch her to my chest.

The officer, taken off guard, sneered and lifted a palm. “Damned redblood.”

“You dare?” The booming voice drummed through my chest.

I swung my head around.

Cassiel sat upon the throne, his hands clasping the armrests, slightly leaning forward, ready to attack. Firelight played along the spaulder’s leather straps across his chest, tightening them against his black tunic.

His gaze was focused on the officer who raised his hand.

“No, Your Highness,” he stuttered, stumbling a few steps away from me.

Cassiel stood in a slow, slinking move. He approached, and I watched him, struggling to breathe. Shadows indented the dips of his cheeks; flames flickering from the gas lamps bracing the platform played along his features.

So painfully beautiful. Evil and beautiful . . . and my bondmate.

Cassiel passed Lord Bjorn and reached me, staring with those unfathomable, eerie eyes.

He lashed out, slapping the officer who raised his hand to me. It would have been nothing deadly if it were anyone but a Warlord. But it was, and the man landed on the ground, head first, with a splat of gory brains.

My throat seized. “You are a monster,” I gasped, frustration urging free the words.

Even though the man was about to strike me, I could not tear my gaze away from the stain where his brains had leaked from his skull.

Cassiel burst into laughter and leaned down. “But I am your monster,” he whispered. The silky threat caressed my skin, raising the hair along my arms. His touch kissed across the slope of my cheek.

“I can smell your fear,” he murmured, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk.

“You do not understand,” I whispered. “They are playing you for a fool.” I lunged and bunched the leather strapped across his chest. “Please, Cassiel.” Conflict filled his eyes, dangerously close to anguish. “If you ever cared for me⁠—”

“Step away from her, my lord,” Drusilla ordered. My rushed whisper cut off. Whatever progress I had made with Cassiel disappeared in a blink.

He sneered, fangs flashing.

“You were to inform me when you returned this ingrate.” Lady Drusilla stared down the guards behind us, lingering on the dead one. “Lord Bjorn, we have you to thank for fulfilling your duty to the Kingdom.”

“All in the name of our Warlord,” he bowed to Cassiel who had yet to turn from me. Lord Bjorn cleared his throat. “I would be most privileged to have a seat on the council. My lineage would serve the Kingdom with utter devotion⁠—”

An arrow went right through his eye, blue blood gushing forth in a spray.

A collective gasp broke through the Hall.

“Enough paltry discussion, Drusilla,” Lord Vaner’s voice boomed through. “I am done playing your games.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Nocturn

Lord Bjorn’s body swayed and thudded forward, driving the arrow deeper. Then the feathered end snapped from the weight.

Silence.