He knew he wouldn't get far.
"So nice to see you again, human."
Malik turned toward the voice.
The Prince of the Night Court stepped through a door to the side, and Malik's breath caught in his throat.
He'd caught a glimpse of the man earlier, but he hadn't had the time to take in what he was seeing. The prince was beautiful. Perfection carved from starlight, with features so flawless they seemed unnatural. His skin shimmered with an inner luminescence, and hair as black as night fell past his shoulders.
The prince's eyes, though—those were what really caught Malik. Completely black except for pupils of burning silver that seemed to see through flesh, through bone, straight into whatever made Malikhimself.
Malik shuddered, and not only because of the image the prince presented. He'd spent long nights reading about this man and his capacity for casual cruelty.
There were many villains featured inMonsters of Veridia, but Malik had always thought the Prince of the Night was the worst of them all.
There was no speck of remorse, no sense of goodness within that creature.
He claimed to dedicate his life to upholding the faith of the Church of the Night, but all he did, he did to while away the boredom of his immortal existence. He tortured the unbelievers not because he had to, not to teach anyone a lesson, not even because he believed it was the right thing to do, but simply because he thought it was entertaining.
And now the prince's lips curved into a smile as he looked at Malik. "You're staring."
"I apologize." Malik tore his gaze away.
"No need." The prince glided closer, flowing more than walking. "I'm accustomed to admiration."
He circled Malik slowly, appraising him like a collector might examine a curious artifact. "You know who I am, don't you?"
Malik swallowed. "Prince Ashelon."
"How fascinating." The Prince—Ashelon—reached out and traced one cold finger along Malik's jaw. "A human who claims to be from another world who knows who I am."
Malik fought the urge to recoil from the touch. The finger left a trail of ice on his skin, and something worse—a thin tendril of awareness that wasn't his own, like a hook seeking purchase in his mind.
"You're afraid," Ashelon observed, his voice almost gentle. "But not in the way the other humans were. You know exactly what I am. How curious."
The Prince's finger traced a path from Malik's jaw to his temple, lingering there. The cold penetrated deeper, a spiderweb of frost spreading through Malik's thoughts.
"I can taste your knowledge," Ashelon murmured. "It sits at the surface of your mind, half-formed and trembling. Tell me how you know me."
Malik's tongue felt heavy in his mouth. The truth would sound insane, but lying to someone who could apparently touch his thoughts seemed equally foolish.
"In my world, there are stories about yours," he managed. "About Veridia. The Courts. You."
Ashelon's silver pupils expanded slightly. "Stories? I'm flattered." His hand slid to the back of Malik's neck, gripping firmly. "What do these stories say about me?"
That you're a monster who tortures people for fun, Malik thought, then immediately tried to push the thought away, terrified the Prince might pluck it from his mind.
Too late. Ashelon laughed, the sound strangely melodic. "Is that how you see me?" His grip tightened painfully. "Most who think such things die before they can voice them."
He released Malik and drifted toward an ornate chair that seemed to grow from the floor itself, shadows solidifying into black stone.
"These barriers between our worlds interest me greatly," Ashelon said, settling into the chair. "They're weakening. I can feel it." He gestured lazily at the air. "Yesterday, half a village on the eastern border simply... disappeared. Replaced by a strange forest not of our world."
Malik's fear momentarily gave way to curiosity. "The barriers are failing here too?"
"Everywhere." The Prince's eyes narrowed. "But I think you knew that already."
Malik chose his words carefully. "I know the barriers between our worlds are breaking down. I don't know why."