Page 11 of Prince of Night and Storm
does, and prompts me. “You’ve talked about the abyss.
Realms, I’m tired. My mother’s words when I was eleven ring in my ears more of late.
“Our people have forgotten we left the old Realm to find peace, mon chéri,”Maman had said.“This endless conflict wastes the sacrifice we made in coming here. It shames us.”
She’d dreamed of establishing peace I’d abandoned after her murder. But today we will shed more blood, disrupt Montague brokering a potential alliance with a neutral House.
Is this what you want?Darkan asks.
I stiffen. He hasn’t spoken to me since the power concussion days ago.
“The dark place,” I say.
Not the misty place. The misty place is safety, comfort?—
sometimes sharp comfort, but Darkan will never be
completely comfortable. We have too many edges.
“It’s a crater. A pit that used to be filled with something,
and I don’t know what. It’s missing and sometimes I look
down at my chest and expect to see it’s been clawed out but
it’s still there. Whole. It’s a lie. I don’t know why I feel this
way. I don’t know if the way I feel is real.”
“No, I don’t want the feud anymore. I want to live my life. I’m tired of fighting. Maman wanted it to end. Danon’s capture would have broken her.”
Then stop,he says.You are Lady of your House, though you scorn the title, and the true unacknowledged Regent.
I push off my bed and begin to don my leather armor, biting back a retort. “Thank you for the advice. I’ll enact that right away, since it’s so simple.”
Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. Don’t try to lie to me. What is the real reason you don’t command peace?
I close my eyes. “The only reality is revenge. The only chaos
I can control is how efficiently I kill.”
“Because that bastard has gone unpunished for killing my mother! Until I feel Renaud’s blood pumping through my talons, there will be no peace.”
I let out a breath. “And I think. . .I think this is really why I’m
always angry. Because someone took something essential
from me. They took it, and it wasn’t theirs to take. This sounds
insane, and I feel insane, and I just want five minutes of not
existing in my own head.”
I strap on a back scabbard custom built for my torso so the hilts of my blades don’t dig into my breasts. Another around my thigh holds a second set of knives. Lightweight, matte black to absorb light, and spelled to return to the holster.
“Édouard is right. We can’t let the death of our Lord go without blood or recompense. I just. . .I’m tired of this. We never seem to gain ground.”
If given the opportunity to fulfill my mother’s wish, would I dishonor her by refusing it? Ending the feud isn’t the same thing as letting the Prince live.
