Page 43 of Promise of Darkness
“No comment, Princess?”
Be brave. At least you’re not alone in here.
I release a steady breath. “Considering I can’t see a cursed thing, and therefore neither can you, I don’t think I have to bother.”
Thiago snaps his fingers, and just like that, a faelight appears in the air over my shoulder, glowing a faint silvery blue.
“Watch out for the nixies,” he whispers.
* * *
Cobwebs and spiders.
Literally my least favorite combination in the world. I exit the tunnel right on the prince’s heels, trying not to scrape the dusty cobwebs from my face until I know the way is clear. Light spills ahead of us, highlighting the enormous cavern we’re in.
I stagger over a cracked tile and a leering face jumps out at me. The sword clears my scabbard, hissing loudly in the stillness of the night, and I’m two seconds away from skewering the beast before I realize it’s a troll carved from stone.
Soft laughter echoes behind me.
Heart pounding like I’ve just run a race, I turn to find the prince bent over as he tries to choke down his amusement.
“Thanks for warning me,” I whisper, since he’s clearly unconcerned with being found.
I could have had a heart seizure—or worse, screamed—and he thinks this is funny?
“Nerves of iron,” he mocks.
I punch him in the abdomen. Hard.
Or at least, it’s meant to be a punch, but the bastard barely flinches, capturing my wrist. There’s got to be a solid ripple of pure muscle behind his leather body armor, because I think I broke my knuckles.
“Next time, hit something a little softer,” he mutters, pushing past me.
“Next time, I’m going to aim for your balls.”
He doesn’t quite wince.
Instead, he turns around, pressing a finger to his lips in warning as he steps into the light.
Understood. No speaking from here.
I follow him past more stone statues. More leering trolls. Guards, I realize, for the enormous stone sarcophagi between them. We’re in the catacombs of Mistmere, though after venturing into the City of the Dead, with all its wraiths and shades, I barely flinch. The roof is caved in, and as I step through the moonlight, I feel a creep of dread down my spine.
Because I could swear something just howled in the distance.
We move like wraiths in the night, and Thiago merely assumes I’ll follow his lead, gesturing sharply every time he thinks he hears something.
Fog lingers like a soft blanket in the streets, stirring around our boots. I feel something pulse against my skin, like a far distant drumbeat.
“Do you hear that?” I breathe into the prince’s ear as we hover in the shadows under an arch.
He looks at me sharply.
“Drums.”
Thiago cocks his head for a long moment, and then slowly shakes his head. “Nothing,” he mouths.
I hold my arm out. All the hairs have lifted, and I can almost feel the pulse of that beat in the night. Weird.
