Page 25 of The Night Prince

The priestess looks between Blake and me. Her eyebrows almost imperceptibly lift—as if something has dawned upon her. She dips her head. “I apologize.”

She turns on her heel and strides toward the center of the circle. Elsie huffs sharply through her nose. Her dark hair whips her face as she spins around to face Blake. “I told you not to interfere.” She shakes her head. “I’m heading back.”

Blake grabs her wrist. “You have every right to be here—”

Her eyes blaze. “Drop it. And she’d better be alive in the morning.” When Blake doesn’t reply, she smacks his arm. “Blake.”

His mouth pinches in the corners. “Fine.”

He puts his hands into his pockets as she stomps away from us all. She casts one last glance at Alfie on Arran’s shoulder before she disappears between the stones to head back down the mountain.

“What was all that about?” There’s a crease in Callum’s brow. “Does she worship Night?”

“No,” says Blake. “She’s tainted by her father’s choices, that’s all.”

Not for the first time, I wonder who she is to Blake. Before either of us can ask anything else, Lochlan strolls up to us, four drams of whisky in hand. Blake conceals his emotion as quickly as I do.

“Is everything okay?” asks Lochlan.

“Fine,” says Blake. He’s watching the priestess as she talks to a group of women wearing yellow tartan beneath their cloaks.

Lochlan passes us each a drink. “Well... here’s to old friends, new alliances, and broken birds escaping their cages.” He winks at me.

Despite the discomfort of what has just occurred, we clink our glasses and drink. I can’t shake the dark feeling that has come over me as the smoky substance burns my throat.

“Tonight is going to be fun,” says Lochlan.

Chapter Nine

It takes a while for the tension to dissipate after Elsie’s departure. Yet as more of Lochlan’s whisky is consumed, the chatter gets merrier, and the scent of alcohol fills the air. I even catch Blake laughing with members of his clan, who, strangely, seem to like him.

The ceremony is more serene than I expected, though much has surprised me about Wolves since I arrived in the Northlands. There is a brutal beauty in this kingdom—in its wild peaks, and howling winds, and powerful alphas who can be gentle as well as deadly.

Callum has me tucked against his side as we sit against the stones in the circle, holding unlit candles while the priestess tells us stories of the Elderwolf, when darkness claimed the Northlands and monsters roamed the earth. Her own candle is alight and flickers in front of her face.

“WhenGhealachwas sentenced by the Sun to the prison in Night’s Sky, before she ripped out her heart and sent it to the Elderwolf, she was only condemned to be captive for a century. However, she travelled to the depths of his prison to make a dealwith him,” says the priestess. “And thus, we experienced the first Dark Night.

“On this night, she vowed she would stay with Night in his prison for all eternity, if, in exchange, he would lock all the monsters who possessed his dark power within his cells. Her soul was one he coveted more than any other, so he accepted her terms, knowing it was the only way he could keep her forever. The vow was sealed with her power, and the monsters disappeared from our world. What Night did not realize was that, in his haste, he was tricked. For he, too, was a monster with dark power—and thus was locked within his prison too.

“On this night, which occurs every two and a half years, whenGhealach’s light is gone from the sky, we know she finds herself in the furthest depths of his prison once more. On this night, we commemorate the sacrifice she made, and shine our light for her so she knows that we remember.”

The priestess walks around the circle, and we lift our unlit candles for her to light. We stand and I breathe in sharply as a shadow passes over the moon, and the land becomes dark. The Wolves sing in a language I don’t know—the words rough yet soft—and they raise their candles to the sky. While I don’t recognize the song, my heart knows it, somehow.

I lift my candle. Callum’s smile is big and easy, and his eyes brim with joy when they lock onto mine. It’s like he is pleased to be sharing this sacred moment with me, and warmth swells inside me.

I smile, too, as our small lights fill the darkness—casting the shadows away.

***

After the ceremony, Jack rolls a barrel of whisky, hidden behind one of the stones, into the center of the circle. He tellsus it’s courtesy of Lowfell, and a cheer fills the air. The fifty or so Wolves gathered swarm around him. The bagpipe player resumes her tune and the cold air fills with music and laughter. Callum pulls me against his chest, nips my ear with his teeth, then tells me he’s going to get us some drinks.

I pull my cloak close as Callum exchanges warm greetings with a few of the Wolves in yellow tartan kilts. They laugh at something he says as he clasps one of them on the shoulder. He has an easy way with people, and I think that will be just as useful in us winning against James as his brute strength.

I’ve often thought that much of Callum’s power comes from showing his more gentle side. My father would see that as weakness, but I’m starting to see that my father’s cruelty was nothing but a mask he used to hide his fear.

Callum is making his way back to me when he stills about halfway across the circle. His body becomes rigid, and the humor disappears from his face. His expression becomes unreadable, the way it does when he’s under threat, and my insides clench. The chatter in the circle dims, as more people cast their gazes into the shadows surrounding the stones. Their wolf senses are picking up on something that I cannot. Something is wrong.

A loud crack shatters the night. My heart leaps from my body. A few Wolves throw themselves to the ground. A crack forms in one of the tall stones as a bullet hits it. I look wildly around as the music shrieks to a halt.

---