Page 23 of Heart of Night
Fear flashes through me, drawing upon what little energy I have left, making my knees buckle. Before I can hit the ground, Herinor catches me with a massive arm, and I wish I could jerk away from his touch.
The forest and Ephegos’s hissing disappear in a dark void as my consciousness leaves me for what feels like the hundredth time.
My hip hits something hard, and I jerk out of oblivion. I don’t get far, though, with the hard grip restraining my legs and the way I’m slung over someone’s shoulder. The scent of leather and sweat climbs into my nose, making me want to weasel out of that iron hold.
“Stop moving,” Herinor orders. “You’ll only hurt yourself more.”
I want to ask him since when does he care whether I get hurt, but all I get out is a dry, raspy sound that could have been a complaint or a grumbling whine.
“We’re almost there. Ephegos ordered you cleaned up before we meet the King of Tavras.”
I force my eyes to stay open and focus on the tall, colorful buildings, the countless arches and carvings lining their roofs, windows, and countless little towers. The morning sun gleams from the small spheres sitting atop each roof tipped with needle-sharp spires pointing toward the perfect clouds above. A wave of childhood memories rushes through me at the sight of narrow streets weaving between ornate fences painted in fir green and azure and butter yellow. For over a decade, this part of Tavras’s capital was my home. I walked each of those alleys when my mother took me to luncheons and parties hosted by Meer’s society, knocked on too many of the carved, painted doors when I accompanied my father on his visits with clients.
It doesn’t feel like home, though, when I glance around to take in the otherwise empty streets. It’s too early in the day for the noble quarters to come to life with artfully dressed Tavrasians and too late in the day for the servants to fill the streets on their early errand runs.
All color blurs, and the evenly spaced cobblestones are the only things I see as my head slumps against Herinor’s back, cheek resting against his leathers.
Fuck—
We’ve arrived in Meer … and I’m hung upside down over Herinor’s broad shoulder.
The scent from days’ worth of travel climbs deeper into my nose, the intensity making me cough.
“Maybe you should clean up,” I murmur, responding to his earlier statement.
Of course, the male hears it with his damned Crow ears. His laugh rumbles beneath me as he turns into an alley and marches up a set of blue-painted, wooden stairs. “Don’t worry. I will. But first, we’ve got to get you presentable.”
“And by we, you mean?”
“If you’re worried I’ll lay a hand on you, you can stop right here, Ayna.” Herinor’s laugh has faded, leaving behind the same serious tone he used in his torture chamber when he tried to explain that he’s my ally.
The fact he even says something like this tells me that Ephegos has to be out of earshot.
Wiggling myself into a more comfortable position that won’t make my stomach empty itself all over again, I heave a breath to convince myself it’s a good idea to even bring it up.
By the time I work up the nerves, we’re inside a small, dim entrance hall. Herinor sets me on my feet, his hand remaining locked around my arm to stabilize me, not to hurt. I notice that detail, too.
“Are you still my ally?” My eyes lock on his, and I refuse to bleat with fear at the way the morning light makes his countless scars stand out even more.
With a shrug, he leads me past walls hung with portraits of Tavrasian kings and queens. From the corner of my eye, I spy one of Erina’s father in his uniform rather than ceremonial dress. He’s still young in the painting, the way I remember him from his visits to my father’s warehouse.
“More than you’d think and less than you’d hope.” He shoves me inside the next room, closing the door behind us before he follows me into the corridor leading to what must be sitting rooms, dining rooms, and reception rooms. All houses in this part of Meer have a similar layout when it comes to the ground level where nobility likes to impress their guests. This home is no exception.
“What do you mean, less than I’d hope?” I turn, my arm brushing the wood-paneled wall and almost swiping a small painting down. After Myron and Royad, I’ve become accustomed to fairies speaking in riddles, but I need to know who I can trust, or I’ll slowly lose my mind—perhaps that’s already happening.
“It means exactly what I’ve told you before, Ayna. My bargain with Ephegos prevents me from helping you the way I want to. Nothing has changed.”
The way he says it, flat and matter-of-fact… A shiver rakes through me, and my legs go weak all over again. He’s going to hurt me again, to poison me again. Even if he doesn’t want to.
“In there.” He reaches around me to open another door, this one leading to a large bathing room with a tall milky window. The scent of lavender and berries floats in clouds of steam from the porcelain tub. “Your lady’s maid will be there soon.”
Herinor turns to leave, but my hand latches onto his forearm in an impulse that might have been stupidity or desperation.
“Please tell me I’ll get out of here. Please tell me there is a different life for me than being Ephegos’s toy. His to sell to whomever he chooses.” I hate that I’m begging him—especially when he’s done nothing to aid me since the moment he carved me open in the torture chamber. He hasn’t proven that he’s on my side. Has poisoned me over and over again.
He’s also the only one I have left to talk to. The Guardians know where Kaira ended up. I wouldn’t put it past Ephegos or Herinor to have made her their supper, and I don’t dare ask.
The look Herinor gives is all I need to know there is no other future—and that he wishes there was.