Page 6 of Nocturn

Stories did not prepare me. They spoke of a towering, inhuman king, but what was before me was more imposing than any description could convey. Pale, chiseled with a power so potent, it was as if it lived and breathed under his skin.

Even the way he moved looked wrong.

My stomach dipped until I felt hollow. Every hair on my body stood on end.

His eyes narrowed on my Sigil. I expected to see something in his expression, but it remained bland.

“I-I—” I took a deep breath.

He did not let me try to finish. He grabbed me around the waist, arm banding against my midsection so I dangled against his side. Thank Saints Piper hid. The ground was much farther down than it should have been. Straw turned into cobblestones, then a clipped lawn. His height allowed him to cover three times the pace that a normal man could.

Each step pushed against my belly.

‘Amara,’ Piper’s voice faded and I could no longer hear her. She must be more than a few paces away from me. I strained to look toward the stable and it had shrunk many sizes in the distance.

Every instinct screamed at me to be very, very still, but I turned back forward to watch as he strode in the same direction I’d run away from. How utterly pitiful. I thought I had managed to create more distance, but he devoured the length with his wide stride.

He barreled through the line of the trees, making leaves and branches smack into me. I flinched, sputtering at the lash of foliage colliding with my face. An officer shouted about me being found, but he did not approach the king. He would be stupid to approach with His Highness’s infamous temper.

A group stood on the steps of the obsidian castle, and now that I wasn’t blinking as though my life depended on it, the Citadel was easier to focus on. Up the steps, onyx stone columns framed the mahogany doors, which were massive and lined with iron.

I had thought Bjorn Estate was grand.

The group eyed him, some almost fearful. He strode to one of the Guard with gold embroidered into the edges of his black uniform, indicating a higher position. He took a step back at the Warlord’s approach, his heel thudding against the bottom step.

“I am sorry they lost her, Your Highness—” A sharp look from the Warlord silenced him. The Warlord dropped me, and my legs gave out at the sudden rush of sensation traveling to my feet.

Dread thickened in my throat while I could only gawk up at him. His Highness gripped my arm, lifting me to my feet in the same movement.

“You, saddle Abrax.” The Warlord did not offer another word, and he pulled me up the stairs leading to the entrance. He walked so fast that half the time he dragged me, each of his wide steps making it harder to catch my footing. Clenching my teeth tightly, I caged my angry shout.

Thick columns framed the main entrance to the Warlord’s Citadel, and the two looming doors were already wide open. From the sheer size of the high ceilings, I could tell everything had been tailor-made for him. Cool air wafted out from inside.

To the left of the foyer stood that same dark-haired woman from the courtyard—pale, fitted into a tight black dress. She was the one who ordered the officers to grab Piper. She clasped her hands together in front of her, an air of expectation clinging to her, but she did not say a word. Her gaze stayed on the Warlord, lingering too long.

Evenly sized stones covered the floor. A dark polish coated them, making the stones seem reflective. My bare toes told me the polished stone was not slippery, only freezing. My ankle gave out, faltering under my screaming calf, but fortunately, we’d reached the stairs, and I was able to catch myself by grabbing onto the side of his belt. His skin seared the back of my fingers, and he stopped so quickly I slapped my other hand on his hard abdomen to stop my slide off the edge of the stair.

My fingertips tingled from the steep drop.

The Warlord’s grip tightened until pain stung my arm.

Even with him glaring down at me, I did not let go. There was nothing else to hold on to, and with him dragging me like this, I was bound to slip and fall.

I panted, holding his angry gaze.

With a sound of disgust, he continued the rest of the way up the black, curving staircase that opened up to a slim rug. He followed the path to the end of the hall and took a sharp turn to the right where it wound into an open space with windows coating the far wall, iron crisscrossing the panes.

Dusklight peeked in, the hazy orange light casting over the polished floor. He passed an upholstered seat suitable for his size and reached behind it to the fireplace for a thick metal circle hanging on a hook.

It clanged as soon as he picked it up—it was a collar. He let me go, yanking my shoulder so I faced him, and in the same smooth motion, he snapped the iron around my throat, over part of my Sigil. I did not even have time to fight it.

But who was I fooling? I could not fight against him, much less succeed. With my next breath, he grabbed my arm and toted me over to an ankle-height spike poking out from the middle of the dark floor.

My eyes widened, and I went limp, but it did not work. He did not release me. Pulse thundering in my ears, I struggled to breathe past the pressure compounding on my chest. Ivory caught my eye, and I let out a strangled shout, digging my feet against the hard floor. Skulls stared at me from their perches embedded within the wall, framing the entire window where it met the stone of the building.

He crouched and reached for the iron link dangling from the loop on the spike. With one squeeze of his bare hand, he bent it open—wide enough to feed the last link of my collar’s chain through. Then he snapped a lock through both.

Once he stepped away, chains clanged on the ground.