Page 38 of Nocturn

His colored gaze dropped to my throat. I could see the denial working toward his mouth.

“I refuse to translate anything unless I get to see her.” I lifted my chin, daring him. “There’s nothing I have to lose, Lord Draven,” I kept going, not holding back anymore. I had tried from dawnlight to dusklight, but the more time I spent with him, the more I recognized that this immortal did not feel as mortals did.

The only time he seemed to partially react was when he was challenged. I did not want another sennight to pass without seeing Piper.

Besides, now that I was useful to him, he wouldn’t toss me into that pit until Nocturn came.

I hope.

His eyes narrowed. “So you are not the completely weak, pathetic thing you’ve been pretending to be.”

Instead of speaking, I held his gaze. Each breath came easier and easier.

“I will give in to this, mortal.”

He strode toward the door with his obnoxiously long strides. My foot kicked into the collar, sending it skittering against the desk, and I hurried after him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Piper

Iwas not risking him dragging me and the resulting damage to my body, so I put every bit of strength into keeping pace with him.

Which was difficult when one was attempting to keep her hair from billowing around her. I could not have that. Everyone would see the scabbed-up fang punctures. At least, if he was going to bite me, he could have the courtesy to bite me on the Sigil, where it was less notable.

Within a short time, I followed him down the staircase, through the front double doors, and past the steps leading up to the Citadel.

He followed the pebbled path several paces until it branched off through the grass. As I half-sprinted behind him, the panels of my dress fluttered around my legs. The freedom of the air in my hair, of my bare throat . . . I had not realized what a weight the metal had been around my neck.

The stable came into view and spawned hope. He was taking me to see Piper. Had she been kept there?

I had been parted from her for nearly a third of a moon rotation now. Soon, the bond would begin to wither.

The pathway branched off again, and he strode down the opposite direction, weaving around the back of the stables until rounding toward a small outbuilding. The pebbled pathway led to the front steps. From the outside—the slanted, pointed roof, the front porch, the well-kept walnut-stained wood—the place seemed decent enough.

Hooks lined the outside of the structure, meant for tying horses. As we neared, warmth at my sternum stirred. I was close to her. My pace quickened.

Lord Draven’s steps thundered on the porch, and he had to duck his head to enter. Mercifully, he could stand at full height once inside.

I scanned for any sign of Piper.

Tack hung along the walls, everything needed for the horses. A chitter from behind me had me whirling.

“Piper?” An iron cage hung in a dark corner of the chamber.

‘Amara?’ She slinked out from under the wood chips she’d had her head shoved into. I ran over to her, my fingertips grazing the edge of the cage, causing it to sway on the creaky chain bolted to the ceiling.

Not even a blanket? They shoved her in here on the uncomfortable chips as if she had no consciousness, as if she was nothing.

“What conditions are these?” I whirled on Lord Draven who had not moved. Rage drove me, so I could not contain my reaction. Storming up to him, I shoved his chest.

“I refuse to do anything until she’s properly cared for,” I hissed, seething. “Do what you will to me, but she deserves peace in her last moon rotations before everything she has ever known is torn away from her.” He had not moved since I’d charged him. He studied me, flicking those odd eyes over my face. What is he thinking? “Lord Draven,” I begged, clenching his tunic. I held my breath, waiting. My grip trembled.

A muscle bunched at the side of his jaw before he returned his focus to Piper. Then he clasped my chin, lifting my face higher, his fingers unyielding.

“I will do this for you,” he finally said. “Spend time with your creature, redblood.” My lips parted on an exhale. “It is one of the last you will have.”

The swell of gratitude shriveled.