Page 89 of All the Pain of Promises
Narissa’s heart skittered and her lungs caved inward, making it almost impossible to breathe. She watched in horror as the wall behind Trysta and Calfair peeled back like curtains being drawn to reveal a glass enclosure where a dozen or so men and women idly lounged on sumptuous furniture. They were sprawled like decadent works of art, draped in finery to give the appearance of a satisfactory life. Their movements were slow and languid, their voices muffled beyond the glass, while mellow music filtered into the space, disguising their words. But nothing could hide the truth in their eyes—the glazed, distant expression of a shell of a soul. A lifeless creature.
“And how exactly did you find the moonshade?” Narissa asked, desperate to buy herself what little time she had left. “It’s a rare plant and not so easily harvested.”
“That was the least complicated part of this whole ordeal.” Trysta’s gaze narrowed, and the lines crinkling around her eyes sagged with the weight of extra skin. “Lord Calfair here is a most excellent supplier, even if he has been rather late on his deliveries recently.”
“Your lack of patience never ceases to amaze me.” Calfair folded his arms over his chest, an air of exasperation settling around his shoulders. He stared at Narissa, his facial expression devoid of any sort of emotion. “Your signature, Lady Narissa.”
She reared back, defiant. “Absolutely not. I refuse to take the blame for a crime I did not commit.”
Trysta’s short laugh was punctuated by mocking ridicule. “I must say, I do admire your resistance. It’s adorable that you think my plans will somehow be foiled. No one is coming to your rescue, Lady Narissa. I’ve made certain of it.”
Solarius.
Narissa’s chest caved at the thought of Trysta harming her own son. Icy fear mingled with burning rage, and her nails bit into the firm fabric of the chair. She wanted nothing more than to gouge Trysta’s eyes out and rip that smug smile clean off her face.
“What have you done to him?” Narissa demanded, pitching forward. “What have you done to Solarius?”
“Nothing too outrageous. I didn’t poison him if that’s what you’re worried about. Though it was incredibly easy to slip the amberwood into his tea. I’m surprised he didn’t suspect a thing.” Her wrinkled mouth twisted to one side, and she dusted the tip of the feather quill against her cheek. “Like father, like son in that sense, I suppose. Zenos never questioned me until it was toolate, but by then I’d already married him and given him eight children.”
She shrugged then, bracelets tinkling as she rolled her sleeves and dipped the quill into the well of ink to wet the tip once more. The stillness in the room wavered around Trysta. “Whether you willingly sign this admission is neither here nor there, Lady Narissa. Either way, your signature can be easily forged. It would be lovely if you could pick your demise and get on with it, as Lord Calfair and I are quite busy.”
Narissa could feel Calfair’s lascivious gaze seeping into her skin and the tiny hairs along the back of her neck stood on end. If she was forced to choose between a seemingly endless sleep or becoming one of Calfair’s pets for the remainder of her days, then there was only one obvious choice. She could only hope her decision was not made in vain.
She snatched the vial off the table without hesitation and popped off the cork.
“Narissa!” Calfair lunged toward her, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Tipping her head back, she swallowed the smoky blue liquid in one gulp, cringing as the intense flavors of bitter florals and moonlit honey coated the back of her throat.
Narissa squeezed her eyes shut, knowing it wouldn’t take long for the effects to run their course. The racing beat of her heart echoed in her ears, accompanied by the devastatingly familiar thrum of the mating bond tying her to Solarius.
He would find her.
No matter what, she knew he would find her.
As her thoughts turned sluggish and her body grew heavy, as though her blood had turned to sand, Narissa reached through the bond to Solarius’s mind, praying to the stars he could still hear her.
“The bracelets,” she whispered.
The crush of nothingness slammed into her, pulling her under, and Narissa drowned.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“The bracelets.”
Narissa’s voice stole through Solarius’s mind, a swift and somber whisper, and though he reached for her in return, he received only unnatural silence as a response.
His wrath was soundless. It stole through his veins, freezing him from the inside out. He was numb to all other emotions, to all other sensations. He could no longer feel the burn of the brutally cold wind against his skin as Svartos, Drake’s dragon, aimed for House Galefell. The reins were wrapped twice around his hands, and he knew the leather cut into his palms, but that painful feeling had ebbed away the second he heard Narissa’s voice. Now, there was only cold calculation. He kept his gaze trained on the horizon, where the spires of House Galefell protruded through the inky clouds. There was nothing save for the rushing of his blood, the steady hum of a bond still intact, and the harrowing screech of a dragon.
The seat he shared with Sarelle gave him an extended vantage point, and he glanced over to where Odryss flew alongside them, with Kjeld and Ariesian atop his back. Svartos’s onyx wings stretched wide as he leaned into the gusting wind,the graying light reflecting off his shiny black scales. Darkness chased them from the east, swallowing up the leaden winter clouds like spilled ink across a canvas of slate.
Odryss cut in front, and Kjeld guided them into a frozen courtyard surrounded by towering walls of pale blue stone. Solarius was grateful for the maneuver, because even though he found flying a dragon to be much like riding a horse, it was also slightly more intimidating. Horses didn’t breathe fire, for example. Nor were they covered in massive scales with clawed wings and fearsome jaws capable of turning bone to dust. Basically, horses, and even Eponians, were far less terrifying to control.
The dragons touched down in the courtyard, kicking up bits of dead grass and frost in their wake. Solarius jumped down from Svartos’s back without hesitation, then reached up, helping his sister from the seat atop the dragon as the beast lowered itself to the ground. He thought for certain they would be greeted by some malicious guards or an odious member of the household staff, but the last person he expected to see running out of the house, heading straight toward him, was Lady Aria Skyhelm.
Her usually bronze skin was pallid, as though it had lost some of its luster. Tendrils of loose midnight hair whipped around her, having fallen from the intricate hairstyle she wore. Wide eyes were framed with spidery lashes and her cheeks were flushed from the cold as she sprinted toward them.
“My lord.” She dropped into a hasty curtsy, amber eyes flicking toward Sarelle. “My lady. You must come with me at once.”
