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

by Jessica Thorne

  Daniel rubbed her hand with his. Stalling. Clearly the rest of what he had to say wasn’t so straightforward. ‘Bastien has been declared king, for real this time. He had some words to say about that – mostly variations on no, and a lot of them not very regal at all; I don’t know what you’ve been teaching him – but, anyway, no one is listening.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Portions of the city don’t want another king anyway.’

  ‘Your brother foremost among them, I presume.’

  ‘Yes. But he might accept Bastien, under certain circumstances. And then there’s Ellyn and Rynn. They have a claim too, and Rynn’s his wife. So…’ He grimaced as he looked at her, realising what he’d just brought up again. She shook her head. That hardly mattered now. She knew how Bastien felt about her and how she felt about him. ‘The noble families, well, they basically ran away, those who were even still here after Aurelie took power. I suppose they’ll start slinking back soon, tails between their legs, and start to position themselves as close to him as possible. We’re trying to put together some sort of council to sort it all out. But… yeah…’

  ‘And marshal?’

  He laughed, which was hardly comforting. ‘Bastien’s idea. He said if they’re making him the king he could make you the marshal.’

  ‘The Academy doesn’t have marshals. The marshal is something else.’

  ‘I tried to tell him that. All of that. He doesn’t listen. He’s as bad as you. When we argued, he just made me a captain and then he told Ellyn she has to be commander of the Academy. He wants it re-established.’

  The sinking feeling of disappointment twisted inside her.

  More mageborn cadets and more days of homage, no doubt. Fix all the mageborn. Go back to how it all was before… But how could he do that now? Her heart fell as she thought about it. She hadn’t expected that. It was a betrayal.

  ‘He’s definitely the king then?’

  ‘Well, he hasn’t let them actually crown him yet, but I don’t think anyone is too bothered about that. And even with those who actually want a king, there’s still the problem of a king with magic.’

  ‘He lost his magic, Danny,’ she said. She didn’t know if she was breaking some huge secret or not. But if she couldn’t tell Daniel, who could she tell? She trusted him with her life. And Bastien’s. ‘Doesn’t have it any more, not since Thorndale. Almost got him killed.’

  Grace’s eyes were growing heavy, her brain fuzzy. The tincture they’d given her, no doubt, or just exhaustion. She was still weak and she needed time to recover.

  Time she didn’t have. She sighed and Daniel’s features softened with affection.

  ‘I know, pet. We all do. It’s okay. You need to sleep. I’ll let you—’

  ‘Wait, Danny…’ She grabbed him before he could leave, her grip still strong around his wrist. She pulled him close and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I need you to get me something.’

  When she told him what, he went pale. But she didn’t care, not any more. Grace knew what she had to do.

  Chapter 35

  The council, such as it was, met at noon to discuss the coronation yet again. Bastien sat at the head of the long mahogany table, glaring down its polished length as Kurt argued with Ellyn, who argued with the acting commander of the Royal Guard and the first general of the army, who had been recalled from the border with Tlachtlya. The first general glared at Lord Rosse of Wuel, who had managed to drag himself back from whatever rat hole he’d hidden himself in. At the far end of the table, Misha listened carefully to everything and recorded it away in that extraordinary mind of his, making a few pertinent notes on parchment. And Rynn sat by Bastien, her hand on his arm the only thing keeping him from upending the whole table and storming out.

  He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want any of this, but no one gave a fig. Grace wasn’t improving, the infection still running through her system and showing no sign of abating. By this stage, the whole population of the Healers’ Halls had seen her, and every Curer Bastien could get hold of. Nothing worked. Misha’s music helped more than most of their supposed solutions.

  Part of the crown, the tiniest shard, had managed to stay inside her, burrowing through her body, or so they thought. He didn’t want to consider what happened when it reached wherever it was going. They had tried everything.

  If he still had magic, he could have saved her with just a touch. It wasn’t fair.

  Sometimes, when he sat by Grace’s side, he was sure he saw flickers of shadows in her eyes, black flecks in the gold of her irises. The Deep Dark hadn’t gone away. It had winnowed its way into her and it lodged there like a parasite, slowly extending its hold on her ravaged body once more.

  ‘And perhaps a ceremony renewing your marriage vows, your majesties?’

  Lord Hale’s voice cut through Bastien’s thoughts like a hot knife.

  ‘A what?’ If a few of them recoiled at the tone, he didn’t care.

  ‘A good point, my lord,’ said Lord Rosse. ‘The marriage took place so rapidly on Iliz that your people here felt bereft. A public renewal would give them something to… to cheer for. Not to mention reassuring the Valenti.’

  The Valenti. The last people Bastien wanted to make nice with. They were desperate to cover themselves now. If word got out they’d drugged him and forced him into marriage… well, all the world would turn against them.

  But he wouldn’t do that to Rynn and Ellyn.

  The Dowager, on the other hand, could squirm for a bit. She had played her dangerous game and lost. Iliz was now a disaster area and no traders in their right minds were going there. Her own people were turning against her. He’d rather enjoyed those reports.

  ‘Your marriage was a master-stroke politically, of course,’ said Lord Hale. ‘A true master-stroke, but… but…’ He stammered to silence as Bastien glared at him.

  ‘Give the people a show, you mean?’ Kurt cut into the silence. ‘Let the ignorant fools cheer and wave, maybe throw some flowers. Afterwards, they could scrape up the petals so they have something to eat. Or maybe you’d like to hurl them some bread after your feast.’

  The room fell into uncomfortable silence.

  And then Rynn spoke. ‘Perhaps a public celebration isn’t a bad idea. But among the people themselves rather than here, and the food from such a feast could be more evenly distributed throughout the city. I’m sure the lords will be more than happy to help provide the necessary provisions.’

  Lord Hale looked like he had just swallowed his own tongue. It took him a moment to force a smile. ‘Princess Rynn is wise. And we should consider approaching her father in regard to a rebuilding loan to the crown in order—’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise it. If you take a penny from my family, Lord Hale, you’ll owe them forever. We have money enough here. Mr Parry has some other options. Don’t you, Kurt?’ She turned her radiant smile on him instead.

  Yes, Bastien thought, Rynn might look tiny and fragile as a bird, but she had her grandmother’s mind. They underestimated her at their peril.

  Kurt stared at her, without any semblance of a polite smile. ‘I knew you were trouble the minute I met you, pet. We should never have left you chatting to the girls in the inn for all that time.’

  ‘Saffron’s an incredibly good accountant, Kurt.’

  ‘I know that. That’s why I hired her. Not to mention how great she is in the sack. Lord Rosse knows all about that, don’t you?’

  Bastien wondered who would collapse first – those trying to contain their outrage or their laughter.

  He pushed himself back from the table and stood up. The accompanying scraping of chairs and the noise as everyone got up as well irritated him all the more.

  ‘Majesty, your coronation—’ Rosse tried one more time.

  Bastien sighed. ‘Just sort it out without me. Or crown Rynn instead. She’d look better anyway.’

  Grace was up and dressed, which was a tribute to her determination rather than her improved health. She hadn’t left the tower
bedroom Bastien shared with her. He hadn’t had the heart to move to another room. It would feel too much like a statement. And he wasn’t going to go anywhere without her now. Let the nobility whisper behind their backs and cast dubious glances at Rynn and Ellyn. None of them cared.

  The bandages around her middle were barely visible through the loose shirt she wore over simple drawstring trousers. She was pale, blood loss and the infection still draining all her strength.

  She had been busy though. A small table and two chairs had been set up in the space between the door and the bed. It was laid as if for a banquet, with covered dishes, gleaming wine glasses and some of the best cutlery the palace had to offer.

  Grace had been looking out of the window when he’d arrived and, when he’d entered, she’d given him the soft smile she reserved for him alone.

  That was everything to him.

  ‘I thought they’d try to keep you longer,’ she said.

  ‘They tried. There’s so much to do and all they want to talk about are ceremonies. It’s infuriating.’

  ‘So you ran away?’

  ‘I left Rynn in charge.’

  ‘That’s mean.’

  ‘She can handle each and every one of them.’

  ‘I meant to them. You married well, you know, even if you didn’t mean to. You don’t deserve her.’ The teasing tone made the words gentler. He still felt so guilty about the marriage. But there didn’t seem to be a way to dissolve it. Not that his people would accept. All he wanted was Grace. She took one look at his face and laughed easily. ‘Come,’ she said, crossing to the table. ‘Sit with me. I asked them for some lunch while I still have a chance to lead you astray. They asked what I wanted, anything I wanted, can you imagine that?’

  He looked at the covered dishes. ‘What did you ask for?’

  ‘Spicy sausage and bean stew and seven-grain bread. I think they had to go and find a recipe. Your valet went and got the chef to try to work out what it was. I sent Daniel down to them in the end to sort it out.’ She lifted the lid and the most incredible aroma billowed out with the steam. The dish was a deep red, with lumps of succulent sausages and many-coloured beans. The bread was thick and rustic, already cut into regimented slices. She uncovered her own dish as she sat down. ‘It was my favourite thing we ever had to eat in the Academy. I thought you should try it at least once.’

  Her portion was about a quarter of the size of his. She couldn’t manage much more yet. As Bastien sat opposite her, she smiled but her eyes looked so sad. Maybe she was thinking of all those they had lost, all her friends who had died since he had come into her life.

  He took a mouthful. It was hot and so spicy it made his eyes water in seconds. Grace laughed softly at him again and poured a glass of red wine into his goblet. He drained more than half of it in one go. ‘Isn’t there any water?’

  ‘Of course, sorry. Here.’ She poured water too and then topped up the wine. ‘Eat the bread with it. It helps. It’s the combination – stew, bread and wine. All of it together. Trust me.’

  He’d trust her with his life. He wanted to tell her but he was too busy with the meal. It really was delicious. He wasn’t sure he’d ever eaten one better; if so he couldn’t remember it. She poured herself some cordial. The healers had forbidden wine for now and Grace was cooperating in the hopes that she’d speed up her recovery.

  The light tone was a relief as well. As they ate they chatted about nothing of any great portent, laughing, sharing stories, until his bowl was clear. He mopped up the last scraps with the bread and finished the wine.

  Her mood had not been good of late. At night he lay beside her while she slept, the medicinal tinctures Healer Langan made for her causing a deep sleep from which it was hard to wake. They also didn’t help with the nightmares. Sometimes he could bring her around. Sometimes he had to listen as she sobbed or screamed and fought against ghosts and memories.

  Not all of them were memories.

  Voices, she called them. They tormented her. The constant pain made it worse.

  When he sat back she smiled again. He’d do anything for that smile. Anything she wanted. But Grace poured him some more wine. ‘Drink up. I can’t have it but I can watch you enjoy it.’

  ‘If I still had my magic, I could cure you,’ he told her, ashamed that it was true. But he didn’t have a trace of magic left in him.

  ‘Do you really miss it?’ she asked.

  ‘Apart from that? No, not really. To be honest, it’s a relief.’

  For a moment she looked down at the table and a wave of pain passed over her face. Bastien pushed himself up and stood awkwardly. His legs felt weak, wobbly, and his head swam in a syrup. He swallowed hard on a suddenly dry throat.

  When Grace lifted her face, her eyes were glittering with tears.

  Bastien swayed for a moment and then sat down heavily in the chair. ‘What… what have you done?’ His words seemed thick in his mouth, hard to form.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bastien,’ she whispered, all the easiness draining from her voice. ‘It’s for the best. You’ll see.’

  He didn’t have the strength to push himself up again. But he wouldn’t just give up.

  ‘Danny,’ she called and the door to the study opened. ‘Help him. Don’t let him fall.’

  Strong arms caught him and he found himself half dragged, half carried to their bed. He tried to struggle, to fight Daniel off, but he couldn’t.

  ‘Take it easy, Bastien,’ Daniel Parry told him. ‘I’m sorry, mate, truly I am. But she says it’s the only way. And she’s still the boss.’

  ‘It is the only way,’ Grace told him. ‘Out you go now, and don’t let anyone else in. I need to do this right. No interruptions.’ She sat on the bed beside Bastien and waited. She still had the wine glass in her hand. ‘Here, drink the rest, love. It’ll help.’

  His focus blurred but he wasn’t sure if it was tears or the horribly familiar sensation of lyriana root sweeping through his system. Grace brought the glass to his lips, lifting his head with her other hand, and helped him drink. He couldn’t seem to resist her.

  The ache inside tore at his heart, shredding it with claws of iron. ‘What have you done?’ he asked again, words blurring together.

  ‘Made the right decision for both of us. It has to be done, love. I have to go and you have to stay here. They need you. You’re their king, Bastien Larelwynn.’

  ‘The wine?’

  ‘And the soup. And the bread too. I couldn’t take any chances. I needed to make sure I got enough into your system. The spices were the best disguise.’

  Spices. It had been so spicy he couldn’t taste the sweetness.

  ‘Danny got it—’

  ‘Don’t blame Danny. He owes me, that’s all. He’s… he’s our friend, Bastien. Listen to me now. Listen, because I don’t have much time and we need to get this right. You’re going to forget all about me, love. You’re going to forget all about me as if—’ She choked on a sob, then forced herself to go on. ‘As if I never existed. You’re going to find someone else to love. Rynn and Ellyn are going to look after you for me, and Danny too. They’ll keep you safe, always. And I will never forget you. I’ll hold you in my heart forever. But I have to go. If you’re ever going to be free.’

  She’ll set you free…

  Her tears fell on his face and she kissed his lips.

  ‘Grace, don’t do this. Please… my love…’

  ‘I have to. Look at me. Really look.’ Her voice dropped low, her eyes so wide, the golden irises flecked with more dark than he remembered. The Deep Dark. He knew it. He had known all along but he didn’t want to admit it. That was the infection. That was what they couldn’t cure. ‘It’s still inside me. It’s only a matter of time. I can feel it. The shard. I can feel it, almost at my heart. I won’t let it take me, understand? Not again. I won’t let it hurt you any more. The more sedatives and drugs the healers give me, the harder it is to fight. You see?’

  ‘No,’ he whispered. This couldn’t
be happening. She couldn’t be doing this, not making him forget her. She was everything to him, all he had left. She couldn’t take that away. If she was gone, not just from his life but from his memories… from his heart… ‘I won’t forget…’

  She kissed him again and broke away with a sigh. Her hand brushed down the side of his face like a ghost. ‘But you will. You have to. Because I know you. You’d keep looking for me, keep searching, keep coming after me… You’d sacrifice everything and you’ve sacrificed so much, for far too long. I can’t risk you. I love you more than life itself, Bastien. You need to forget me. I need to set you free.’

  Do this for me and you will be free, the voice of the Maegen had said. She’ll set you free.

  Not like this. Divinities, not like this!

  He couldn’t focus any more. The words were drifting in and out of his mind and he couldn’t cling to any one thought.

  ‘Forget me,’ Grace told him. ‘Forget magic. Be the king I know you can be. Never lose the kindness in you. You don’t have to hide it any more. You don’t have to protect yourself like that. It’s my job, love. You’re going to be… such an amazing king, Bastien. The king they need. Like Marius. Good, kind, just. Please…’

  He struggled to sit up, to lift his body, to stop her.

  She rested a hand on his chest, pushing him down effortlessly and holding him there with no force at all.

  ‘You’re fine,’ she told him. ‘Don’t fight it. No more Hollow King, no more Maegen, no more magic. I’m taking the crown. I’m taking all that remains of the pact and the Deep Dark with me. Three times dead, twice entombed. That’s me, Bastien. I’ve died too many times. Been pulled out of a pile of rubble twice now.’

  ‘You haven’t died three times,’ he protested weakly.

  ‘Not yet.’ She smiled and he knew what she intended. ‘I can finish it.’

  ‘Grace,’ he whispered but the shadows were clawing at the edges of his consciousness now. The words made no sense. But she was leaving, and he couldn’t stop her. With all the power in the world he wouldn’t be able to stop her. He never could. His eyes closed. Not even his own tears could stop them as his strength gave out and he knew that the next time they opened the lyriana root would have erased every precious memory of her.