Page 51 of Prince of Night and Storm
“I’m Lord of House Faronne,” I snarl, and almost start because. . .I was able to say the words aloud.
His affectionate smile is wry, his eyes grave. “I have no doubt of it. But you’re not Lord of Avallonne.” He hesitates. “Otieno. . .”
“Baba's alive, and acts as your Regent but you know how he is. He doesn't want anything to do with ‘Roman bread and circus.’ He does the paperwork and the politicking, Édouard and I handle the feuds.”
I’m hanging off his neck like I’m still twelve and trying to annoy him with my weight. He doesn’t notice—which says something, considering the weight I’ve packed on in both muscle and feminine adult padding over the years.
Danon looks thoughtful. “That is not an unintelligent arrangement—Embriel’s arrangement with Baroun is similar. Embriel was never interested in the feuds either. I believe he took the position as Dean to give himself an excuse, though he’ll deny it.”
My chest expands as I take a deep breath to report to my Lord. “We've entered a ceasefire. The Prince is awake.”
His expression alters, tension tightening his shoulders. He doesn't ask. But I answer anyway. “Danon, the Prince. . .I think he—I think. . .”
I can't voice my uneasy suspicions. Not to mybrother,though I want his counsel and comfort. Looking in his eyes now, I hold back, sparing him those few sentences that will do nothing but cause worry. Wherever he is, he can't help me.
He understands anyway—I file that away to think about later. “Listen to me, little thorn. There are things you don't know about the Kuthliele bloodline, about your father's bloodline. You're not as defenseless as others may think—and you are far more valuable to the Temthrennes than you know.”
“What?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I won’t say more when I’m not there to protect you. There are things, that if you knew, would begin a chain of events you aren’t ready for. Infants don’t survive when born too soon. Pretend to be nothing but our mad halfling pup a few years longer.”
. . .what pretense, but okay.
Danon clutches my shoulders. “The Prince knows what I know and hewillseduce you, but don’t let it be to his will.”
“I don't care about that right now. Tell me where you are.”
His silence is answer enough.
Because he refuses to tell me, I step away—but grab his hand so he can’t disappear—and look around. There's a glimpse of a white stone building in the distance, high up a cliff accessed by a narrow footpath. There's forest, and when I gaze out across the sea, in the distance is the faintest shimmer of land.
“This is an island,” I say. “This isn’t earth Realm.”
Danon’s expression hardens as he lets me go, his words rapid, his tone brusque. “Leave, Aerinne. Obey me. It will not be forever. We're immortal and we will meet again. I love you, little thorn, and I am well. Hold the line and hold your own.” His eyes brighten, mouth tense as he forces himself to step back. “You’re lovelier than Mother, and just as fierce. Understand your worth—you’re adult enough now to leverage it.”
He lifts his hand and gestures as I cry out in denial— “Wait, Danon!”
—and the scene shatters.
I'm frozen. My brother is alive. I know it. He’s healthy and. . .I don’t know if free is the right word but he didn’t look under duress. I force myself not to break down in crushing relief, but to take a deep breath and focus on where I am now.
Overgrown gardens surround me, blooming with flowers and foliage taller than people. I glimpse a wide river through the foliage, and scent water in the air. Cool, dappled light filters through boughs heavy with leaves, blanketing the forest floor with hues of green. Paradise, though not quite tropical.
A paradise with teeth.
The undergrowth rustles and I spin, heart pounding. Something moves in the shadows, large and dangerous. I back away but can't escape.
“Our idyll comes to an end,” Darkan murmurs, arms sliding around me from behind. They're covered in black armor, shimmering scales edged in antique gold. His fingers are long, light brown, his sharp nails a matte black.
He lowers his head and silky, crushed sapphire and onyx hair slides over my shoulders. He won't let me shift to face him, keeping my back pressed against his chest and the uncomfortable ridges and grooves of his armor. He's never physically manifested before, not beyond a tall, somewhat solid shadow.
There's a light vibration at my ankle and I look down. My black kitten rubs her head against me, her brilliant green and purple gaze almost pleading.
“What do you mean? Where are we?” I pause, sluggish mind beginning to work as she wanders off into the foliage. She's grown. “Who really are you?”
He’s silent a while. “You were a bright child. I feared you would die from your fearlessness if I didn't contain you.”
“Why did you care?”
