Nightborn: Totally addictive fantasy fiction (The Hollow King Book 2)

by Jessica Thorne

  ‘Grace please…’

  This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t let him do this. She couldn’t be all right with it. She pressed a finger to his lips.

  ‘Dance with the girl,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind.’ She was lying. He knew that. Her face flushed as she said the words. ‘Do what you have to do.’

  The music started up behind them and he didn’t have a choice any more. He had promised and Rynn was waiting. So was the Dowager Queen.

  He had to force himself to turn away from Grace. It was like walking to his doom.

  The old woman looked so smug as Bastien crossed the floor to meet the princess. The crowd parted around them, everyone watching.

  Rynn looked no happier about this than he did, but she was putting on a brave face. He could at least do the same. And she was the perfect partner, trained to perfection. She moved with him as if they were lovers who had spent years matching each other in every way. She was the epitome of grace.

  Except the only Grace he was interested in had taken the first opportunity to slip through the doors to the garden outside.

  The music paused, and so did they, the pair of them isolated in the centre of the ballroom with every eye upon them. There was no escape.

  ‘My noble guests,’ the Dowager Queen announced in a voice surprisingly strong for someone so old. She had all the power here, and she wielded it as the weapon it was. ‘We hereby give leave to Prince Bastien Larelwynn of Rathlynn to begin formal courtship of our beloved granddaughter, the Rose of the Valenti, Princess Rynn Elenore Layna de Valens of Gellen. He desires that she will be the Rose to the Lord of Thorns.’

  He’d made no agreement, and no such offer of courtship. This was Lara’s doing. Or the Dowager’s. It didn’t matter which one. Arranged from afar or behind his back. Bastien couldn’t help himself. He cursed under his breath, words Grace, Daniel and Ellyn had picked up in Eastferry, and he had picked up from them far too easily.

  The sharp inhalation of breath from his partner made him turn his attention to her. Because she wasn’t Grace, who would have rolled her eyes, or mocked him, if she’d felt like humouring him at all. Which she wouldn’t right now.

  ‘My apologies, your highness.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said, and the delicate little princess appeared to have evaporated. She gave him a look that was all steel. ‘I need to talk to you and this is about the only chance we’ll get. It can’t wait. I have information. It’s about Ellyn de Bruyn.’

  Chapter 4

  The wide silver mirror dominated the centre of the table, lying flat like a pool of water. It was older than the kingdom, or so Aurelie had been told. Older than her home, perhaps. It should be in the treasury, along with a hundred other magical objects, garnered by the Larelwynns over so many generations. Celeste claimed to have brought it with her when she first came here, back when she was the Little Goddess. When the Larelwynns had trapped her in the Temple – and that was where it had stayed. The problem was, as Aurelie was finding, the things Celeste told them could be true, or could be fantasy, or could just be lies told for her own amusement. She couldn’t be relied upon, and the fact that Asher kept going to her for advice was driving Aurelie to distraction.

  He was meant to be her lover, her servant, and her right hand.

  But all he seemed to think about was the insane goddess locked inside the Temple, with her powers locked inside her. Not his queen, not their kingdom.

  ‘Pour the water on it,’ said Celeste, as if speaking to a particularly dull child. ‘Slowly now. Slowly. Don’t spill it.’

  ‘It’s pointless,’ Aurelie said, but they both ignored her. Water from the fountain of the Temple gardens, collected by innocent hands. Those hands, and their innocence, were gone now. She hated the ravings of Celeste Larelwynn. A goddess she might have been, once upon a time, but now she was diminished, her power locked away by a sigil burned into her skin by her brother, the Lord of Thorns, Bastien Larelwynn. A parting gift.

  Celeste couldn’t even take magic from the mageborn Aurelie had imprisoned any more. Oh, she tried. But for every dozen they rounded up, she could extract barely the magic of one, and they took so long to recover now, if they recovered at all. She’d killed too many of them.

  Aurelie’s own cravings were not so easily satisfied. Celeste would not cooperate. She couldn’t – or wouldn’t – share the magic for which the queen hungered.

  The mageborn were laughing at her, Aurelie was certain of that. So were the rest of them, all the quotidian, little commoners… the Thorns in her side. She could lock them up, torture them, kill them… it didn’t help.

  ‘There,’ Asher said. Water covered the mirror to the edge of the ornate golden frame. Ripples spread out as they leaned over it, distorting their reflections. But there was nothing magic about it. Not yet. ‘What next?’

  ‘Blood,’ Celeste murmured and a pang of fear shot through the queen. If Celeste wanted blood things could get very messy indeed. Very quickly. ‘It’s always blood. The oldest magic, the first spells, they were all born in blood. I bathed in blood.’

  ‘Whose blood?’ Asher asked. He didn’t even sound particularly worried. If Celeste wanted his would he spill it for her? Probably. How much? What if she wanted it all? Aurelie stared at him, aghast, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘For this?’ Celeste sighed wistfully. ‘Larelwynn blood would be best. Or royal blood.’ She said it almost absently, distracted and only partially aware of her words. Aurelie took a step out of range. Safety didn’t come into it. She wasn’t sure anyone would ever be safe from Celeste.

  ‘Don’t even think of it.’

  Asher laughed. ‘No one is harming the child, my love,’ he said in a suddenly tender voice. ‘We need that little bundle of joy intact.’ Then his voice hardened. ‘Remember, Celeste?’

  Celeste narrowed her eyes, working her way through whatever labyrinth of thoughts was jumbled together in her head. Then she sighed like a child herself. ‘Very well then, but it won’t be the same. Divine blood will do it. My blood. There’s so much you can do with divine blood. Don’t worry. I’ll heal. I know you’re concerned, your majesty. Here, give me a knife.’

  All the same Aurelie stepped further away as Asher Kane handed over the bone-handled knife he carried at his belt.

  ‘Divinity,’ he said, and all but bowed. Aurelie pursed her lips, watching them together. He was lucky the crazy bitch didn’t slash his throat right now.

  How did one dispose of a goddess? There had to be a way. But then, why had the first Larelwynns imprisoned Celeste in the Temple? Had it simply been to keep her out of the way? It wasn’t like she had ever been of any help. All she did was manipulate and control people.

  Well, not Aurelie. She would not be used by anyone. Not any more. Celeste might influence weaker minds, like Asher, but she would never worm her way into Aurelie’s head. She’d make sure of that.

  She watched as Celeste sliced open the pad of her index finger and let her rich, dark blood drip into the water.

  ‘Come here,’ the former goddess said. ‘Close your eyes. Let the darkness in.’

  Asher obeyed and with all the formality of a high priestess Celeste anointed his eyelids with her blood. Then she drew a crescent on his brow. The final stage was a daub of blood on his lips.

  ‘This is the oldest magic, Asher. My blessing. Once people would kill for the honour and I would make them mine.’

  For a moment nothing happened but then he gave a shudder of pleasure. Aurelie didn’t know what he was feeling but she recognised the rush of power as it rippled through him. ‘My goddess,’ he murmured. ‘You honour me.’

  Celeste turned to Aurelie, who glared at her. ‘I don’t need honours,’ she said after a long moment. To her surprise Celeste just smiled, a knowing smile which sent another shiver through the queen’s body. Jealousy of the magic coursing through Asher didn’t mean she was willing to submit to Celeste. She wasn’t that far gone. Not yet.

  ‘No mat
ter,’ said Celeste. ‘One day you’ll wear my blood, Aurelie. I’ve seen that. And then you’ll be mine.’

  Aurelie narrowed her eyes, silently promising herself that she’d never do any such thing.

  Celeste dropped the knife, a forgotten toy, and the cut healed itself.

  The blood in the water swirled like ink, or a flower unfurling, spreading out, and Celeste murmured words in a language Aurelie didn’t understand. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, grating along the inside of her bones.

  And slowly the water cleared. More than cleared. The reflection of the room drifted away and another scene appeared. In spite of herself, Aurelie drew closer once more, staring at the images moving in the mirror.

  ‘That’s the Valenti court,’ said Asher. ‘Well, he’s resourceful. We knew that.’

  ‘He’s my brother,’ Celeste purred. ‘He’s a shining star. He always has been. All kings and queens should bow to him.’

  Aurelie scowled. She’d rot in the ground before that happened.

  All the same she couldn’t tear her eyes off him. Bastien Larelwynn had always fascinated her. She couldn’t help it. Marius had been sick and wan, a weakling from the day they married. Bastien, on the other hand… Celeste was right. He was a shining star. He burned with the darkest fire she had ever seen.

  Men didn’t ignore her. They never had. She used that and relied on it. Asher had been an easy conquest, and an inventive lover. And in all things but his infatuation with Celeste, he was everything she could have wanted.

  Except… he wasn’t Bastien.

  He wasn’t a Larelwynn either. Oh, and he knew it. He was the last of his family, because he and his sister Hanna had murdered them all. She had become Mother Miranda, leader of the Temple and the keeper of Celeste Larelwynn, until her downfall, until Bastien had destroyed her. Asher had relatives in half the royal families that Aurelie knew of. He was rich beyond reason. But it was never enough. Not for someone like him. Nothing and no one was ever enough.

  The crackle of magic in the bowl tugged at Aurelie, drawing her closer. She felt the same addiction he did. She’d never forget the feeling of stolen magic coursing through her, the power, and the sheer strength it lent her.

  She longed for that feeling again. But some things came with too high a price. Coupled with an image of Bastien there, she couldn’t draw away.

  Images moved in the mirror. The ballroom, figures dancing…

  ‘That isn’t the charming Captain Marchant he’s dancing with,’ Asher said, his tone a mocking drawl.

  ‘She’s not a captain any more,’ Aurelie snapped before she could stop herself. ‘I stripped her of that rank.’ It sounded petty even as she said it.

  ‘Of course you did, my love.’ There was a smirk behind his calm words. She could feel it. She didn’t want to look at him, not painted with Celeste’s blood, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  All his attention was on the mirror anyway. She’d take another lover soon, she decided. Oh, she needed Asher and she’d keep him on side, but this time… someone dark-haired and golden-skinned, with eyes like pools of night. With a rush of satisfaction she imagined the moment Asher would walk in on that.

  ‘We knew he’d gone to the Valenti Islands. It wasn’t a big leap of imagination, Asher. But who is that girl he’s dancing with?’

  Celeste began to sing. The tune was simple and childlike and it twisted Aurelie’s stomach. ‘She’s the prettiest girl in the world, the prettiest girl in the world. She’s lithe as a gazelle, and graceful as well…’

  Aurelie couldn’t take it any longer. ‘Enough, Celeste! I asked a question.’

  It was Asher who answered. ‘She’s a Valenti princess, King Roderick’s youngest. Rynn Elenore Layna de Valens of Gellen.’ The name came from his mouth like music. Aurelie remembered a time when people used to say her name that way. ‘My third cousin once removed, or something like that, on my mother’s side.’ He leaned in conspiratorially. ‘They say she’s even more beautiful than you were.’ She sucked in a breath and stared at him. His grin turned nasty. ‘At that age,’ he added, a final twist to the knife.

  Two lovers. Both looking like Bastien Larelwynn. And she’d make Asher watch. And then she’d turn them on him as well. She’d have them overpower him and—

  ‘The Valenti are playing politics in the oldest way imaginable,’ Celeste said. ‘She’s pretty. She glows. I know that glow. If she marries him, we could bring her back here as well and play with her. The Dowager Rhyannon will understand, won’t she?’ She giggled and grabbed Asher’s shirt, pulling him towards her. ‘Can you imagine, Asher? Do you think she’ll scream?’

  ‘Enough,’ Aurelie snapped and drew herself up to her full height, steeling her spine. She was the queen here. They needed to remember that. This was her kingdom now and she meant to keep it that way. ‘He’ll never take up with her. Not while he has his beloved Grace beside him. I know Bastien.’

  Celeste laughed at her, releasing Asher Kane. ‘Better than I do? My own brother?’

  ‘He’s not the brother you remember. Not any more. And you… you can’t even get out of this room, let alone the Temple. You have no power now.’

  ‘Aurelie…’ Asher tried to intercede but that only made her anger burn all the brighter.

  ‘I’m going. This fiasco isn’t telling us anything we don’t already know.’

  ‘But it is,’ Celeste crooned. ‘Of course it is. Can’t you hear them?’

  ‘No, of course I can’t. It’s images in water. There’s nothing to hear.’

  Celeste glowered at her. ‘Should have let me paint you. They’ll be married. We’ll have a new queen.’ She turned to Asher like a child in search of a present. ‘I want a new queen.’

  Like a replacement? Or a toy?

  Enough. That was enough. Aurelie slammed her fist down on the mirror, which shattered with an almighty crash. Glass and bloody water flew everywhere and beneath the cracks an endless darkness opened up. Celeste shrieked but Asher caught her in his arms as Aurelie swept from the room, slamming the door behind her. The carriage awaited her in the courtyard. One of the attendants offered his arm to help her in and she glanced at him. He fought not to recoil from her obvious rage, which only made it even worse. She shoved him aside and seated herself, spreading out her skirts and taking a deep, calming breath.

  ‘Aurelie, wait,’ Asher called from the far side of the courtyard. She heard him running. He jumped through the door before the carriage set off and landed at her feet. He tilted his head up to look at her and gave her that wicked smile. ‘Going without me?’

  The urge to kick him out was powerful. But when he looked at her like that…

  She grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him up, face to face with her.

  ‘Wipe that shit off your face,’ she told him. ‘Remember who is the queen here, Asher. It isn’t her. It never will be. Nor that Valenti bitch.’

  His pupils went wide with desire and he smiled, not that knowing smirk which so irritated her. This was a smile of relief. His face was a picture of pure lust. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his hand up to his face, smearing the blood into his flesh until all that remained was a flush of heated skin. He locked his gaze with hers the entire time.

  ‘Only you, my queen. No one else.’

  Perhaps she didn’t need to replace him just yet. He had his uses. So many uses.

  ‘That’s better.’

  But when she kissed him, she still imagined Bastien. And she wondered if Bastien pictured Grace Marchant when he kissed his princess. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing that if he had fallen under the power of the Dowager Queen of Valenti, he’d never be with the jumped-up Academy whore again.

  She pushed Asher away. ‘You’re going on a trip.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A journey. To Valenti. As my representative. If Bastien Larelwynn is getting married there should be someone there from home, shouldn’t there?’

  Asher bowed h
is head, his smile so cruel she could almost forgive him his obsessions. Almost.

  ‘Of course, and I’ll bring them back. Celeste wants to meet her future sister-in-law. Isn’t that sweet?’

  Aurelie suppressed a shudder. She doubted if it was anything but sweet. Quite the opposite.

  Chapter 5

  Cold night air closed around her and Grace drew in a breath, the first that seemed to actually fill her lungs since she’d seen Bastien with the princess in his arms. They looked perfect together, like they belonged with each other. Their breeding, their education, their elegance… everything.

  She dragged another breath in and leaned on the marble balustrade overlooking the lagoon. The water beneath her glittered with a thousand lights. It moved and swirled, rippling like the Maegen, the source of all the mageborn power, did in her dreams. But it was dark, entirely dark, beneath the surface reflections.

  She had to be strong for him, for Bastien, because she’d always known this would happen. Well, not this. Not exactly this. But she’d known that they couldn’t be together. That Bastien being who he was would tear them apart.

  Because they didn’t belong together. They were from different worlds.

  And if he was to be safe – if any of them were to be safe – he needed to marry Rynn. It was the only thing that made sense.

  Movement behind her made Grace turn but it was just another couple of guests stepping out into the night. They started when they saw her and then scurried off into the garden to the right, the woman casting a resentful glance at Grace as she went. The look the man gave her was darker by far.

  Making friends wherever I go, Grace thought.

  She stared down into the water and tried to persuade herself to go back inside. But she didn’t seem to be able to move.

  Something shivered down her spine, a warning, an alarm. She hadn’t felt anything like it since they’d left Rathlynn. Not until last night.