Page 135 of The Night Prince

I let myself feel the rage of losing my mother, the emotion I was beaten into suppressing, the wildness I was taught to prune. It fills my lungs, and makes my entire body vibrate with the force of it. It hurtles inside me. It presses against my skin. I push myself to my feet.

Enough.

I meet the obsidian gaze of the darkness.

And the scream that has been building in my chest all of my life...

I let it go.

No.

I unleash.

Chapter Sixty-One

Ascream erupts from my lungs.

The jagged pieces of my heart tear like glass, and the wild thing inside me extends its claws. Power flares up from my soul. I taste it. Night, and untouched mountains, and moonlit forests, long before the first men came to this world. My back knits itself together, and the pain melts from my bones. My skin glows, and a bright blinding light flashes before my eyes.

As the tide of darkness crashes down, a wave of my moonlight rises to meet it. The serpentine creature rears back, and releases a bloodcurdling shriek of its own. Its eyes bleed like ink as it looks upon me, as if it’s used to only darkness, and still, I scream. The shadows that shield its body dissolve and expose scales the color of obsidian. When my light touches its skin, the sizzle of burning flesh fills the air.

The creature flails. Its tail cracks the stands. Debris rains down upon me but still, I scream. Threads of light burst from my body, and they link me to the Wolves. I’m pulled in what feelslike a thousand different directions. It’s like the night of the full moon. My soul is being pulled apart, and I don’t stop.

My senses erupt. I taste seawater and rum. Jack. There’s a flicker of black fur beside me, and when he leaps past me and crashes into Night’s prisoner, he is a snarling wolf with claws like knives. I catch the scent of heather and as a man swipes his sword at Claire, he finds himself pinned by a grey wolf. The smell of the battle and bracken crashes through me, and James shifts at my side and rips off the head of one of the acolytes.

I can’t breathe. Whispers fill my ears. Fingers claw my body. They pull at me. Try to take my soul from me. I scream. I catch the scent of the mountains at dawn, there’s coolness against my skin, then pine and shadow fills my lungs until they’re all I can breathe. Blake is there, fighting. The thread that connects me to him is stronger than the others.

I tip back my head, and my light brightens. The serpent hisses and whimpers. It tries to retreat back into the pit from whence it came. I won’t let it. It burns. Its head bashes against the ceiling as its flesh melts from its bones. It lets out a heart-curdling shriek that turns into a rasping laugh.

“She thought it would save you. He is coming.”

Burning scales float like snowfall from above. They scatter and cover the blood and destruction with ash. They hiss as they touch my skin, then dissolve into shadow. My scream dies with the beast.

Silence.

It shrouds the amphitheater. My glowing skin is the only light in the darkness. Dark shapes cover the floor, and the blood is black and glistening. The coppery scent of death is overpowering.

It should be sickening, but everything seems far away. It’s like I’m floating, and there’s a primal song in my ears. The Wolves have shifted back into humanoid forms—covered in gore and shredded clothing. There are hardly any left.

James stands directly ahead of me, in front of the trapdoor. His bare chest rises and falls deeply. Blood paints his face and dribbles down his chin. My light dances off the tattoos that mark his biceps. My enemy. The wolf who bit me, who ruined the small shred of freedom I managed to find.

His lips are parted, and his eyes fill with awe. He drops to his knees. “Cridche na Ghealach,”he breathes.

The remaining Wolves follow his lead.

Blake stands near the throne. His powerful shoulders move up and down deeply. Blood glistens across his scarred chest, and his dark hair sticks to his forehead. His lips curve into a slow smile, dimples springing into his cheeks. He opens his mouth.

Alexander appears behind him and slides his blade across Blake’s throat.

Time stops. Blake’s eyes widen as they hold mine. For a moment, I think he’s fine. Then blood spills from the thin line across his neck.

Adrenaline erupts within me. The ringing in my ears gets louder. I don’t hear Arran’s roar as he charges at Alexander, knocks him off Blake, and decapitates him. I barely register Jack lurching forward and catching Blake and dropping to his knees, or more of the acolytes charging toward the remaining Wolves.

The bond between Blake and me pulls taut. I feel as if my soul is being ripped from me. I see it between us, and itshudders. I follow it. I land hard on my knees beside Jack, who clutches Blake’s wound with both hands.

“You’ll be alright,” he is saying, though he clearly does not believe it. “You’ll be alright. We’ve been through worse than this.”

Blood dribbles out of Blake’s mouth. His skin is deathly pale. He tries to speak.

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