Bright Burns the Night Read online

  Lothar lay on the bed, unmoving. Thick black thread bound his wounds shut, but the normally metallic skin was still a livid red. Evelayn stood on the other side of the room silently watching, her arms folded, but Lorcan refused to look to her. There were too many questions in her eyes. Questions he wouldn’t—couldn’t—answer.

  By all accounts, he should have been exhausted from the immense amount of power he’d been forced to draw upon to defeat Máthair Damhán’s daughter. But it hadn’t hit him yet. No doubt a crash was in his near future, but he was grateful for the reprieve, however long it lasted. Lorcan rarely felt the effects of using his power; yet something was different ever since he’d changed Evelayn and been unable to turn her back into a swan. There was an extra draw that made it more difficult for him to fully access his power. Still, he’d managed to summon enough and had left the creature that attacked them helpless to do any more damage to him or any of his Draíolon. He could have killed her, but instead had left her alive—just enough for her to return to her master with a message of his own. One that he would have to deliver upon very soon.

  First, he had to ascertain whether Lothar would live or die. Then, Lorcan knew, he had to figure out a way to subdue the damage and hysteria that was doubtless spreading faster than daylight at dawn. But how to explain what had happened so as not to rouse even more suspicion or fear than was doubtlessly already circling the castle and beyond?

  As if he could read the king’s mind, Tanvir spoke up yet again. “Such unique wounds. And so slow to heal, at that.”

  Lorcan stopped and shot Tanvir a warning look. But the other male continued, undeterred.

  “I have fought in many battles and have seen just about every possible variation of how a Draíolon can hurt another Draíolon. And yet, I’ve never come across anything like this before.”

  “Then it would seem you obviously are not as experienced as you supposed.” Lorcan faced Tanvir fully, the icy burn of his wrath building in his veins once more.

  “Am I not? Well, you fought the foul beast—I mean, Draíolon—that did this. I bow to your superior knowledge and experience.” Tanvir inclined his head, a challenge in his eyes.

  Lorcan regarded Tanvir steadily, but the fool didn’t back down. After all these years of sulking, he’d finally found a will to fight again. Unfortunately, he had chosen a very unwise time and way to go about it. Lorcan shot a thin cord of darkness at him, winding around his torso and the chair, trapping him, and threatening to snake up toward his neck.

  “I suggest you take your leave and return to Letha before your misplaced courage rewards you with a consequence you may regret.”

  There was a gasp from behind him.

  Tanvir bared his teeth and lunged forward, as if he would attack Lorcan, but the cord held him in place.

  “What did you just say?” Evelayn’s question was deadly quiet, but it ricocheted through the room as if she’d shouted.

  “Don’t listen to him.” Tanvir looked past Lorcan to where he could hear Evelayn storming forward across the room. A volatile mix of fury and confusion burned Lorcan’s nose. “You know he’s a liar, Ev.”

  “What did you just say,” she repeated from beside Lorcan—a command now rather than a question.

  “I told him he should leave before he lives to regret speaking so freely—and incorrectly.”

  “No. You said to return to Letha.”

  Lorcan glanced down at Evelayn, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring straight at Tanvir, every taut line of her face and body limned with barely contained wrath. “Yes, I did.”

  “His sister, Letha.”

  “Yes, his sister, and only living relative. Did he tell you of her, then? I find myself surprised to hear that.” Lorcan also looked to Tanvir, who snarled at him with such unmasked hatred in his eyes it reminded him of the way he had once had to disguise his true feelings toward his father. The difference being that Lorcan had done nothing to warrant such intense loathing from Tanvir—in fact, quite the opposite.

  “He told me of her death.” Evelayn’s voice was cold.

  Sudden understanding dawned on Lorcan, along with the realization that he had, yet again—though unwittingly—been the means of delivering her a terrible blow. “It is unfortunate that he sought to deceive you, seeing as she is very much alive and living here, at this very castle, as we speak.”

  “He’s a liar, Ev,” Tanvir repeated, finally meeting her gaze, his expression softening into one of pleading. The way he moved so easily from one face to another reminded Lorcan of himself. It filled him with disgust, knowing what it was to manipulate, and be manipulated—disgust that Evelayn had been the victim of such manipulation for so long.

  “Don’t call me that.” She stepped toward Tanvir, but she hadn’t softened one bit—if anything, she sounded more furious than ever. “I wondered what could have made you act the way you have tonight—why you are so changed toward me. But I believe I begin to see.”

  “Ev—Evelayn,” he corrected himself quickly, “you have to understand my shock when I saw you standing there, alive. It had been so long, and I believed you to be—”

  “I have only one question for you. Is your sister truly dead, as you told me?” She squared her shoulders, facing him with all the authority and aplomb of his queen. Not a female speaking to the male she loved. It would have made him proud, had Lorcan not also scented the bitter scorch of betrayal that ran beneath her superficial rage. “Or does she live?”

  Tanvir remained silent, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

  Evelayn whirled to face Lorcan, her violet eyes flashing. “What do you know of Letha?”

  Lothar suddenly moaned from the bed behind them. Evelayn and Lorcan turned simultaneously to see his brother’s hands clench and unclench, his head thrashing first to one side and then the other.

  “If he’s alive enough to be in pain, he’s alive enough to survive,” Tanvir commented dully from behind them, the fight gone out of him—for now. “Congratulations.”

  Lorcan wove his hand through the air at the same time that he stepped toward his brother, releasing the cord that bound Tanvir.

  “I suggest you leave. Now,” he added without facing the other male or even giving him a backward glance.

  There was nothing but silence for a long moment, then he heard Tanvir move, rising from the chair.

  “Evelayn … please …”

  But she resolutely continued to face Lothar, her shoulders stiffly thrown back, her chin lifted.

  The door clicked shut as Tanvir left.

  TANVIR STORMED INTO THE OUTER ROOM OF HIS QUARTERS only to stop short when he spotted Letha sitting at the table near the window, wrapped in a dressing gown, nursing a mug of something that wafted steam into the chilly night air. He caught the scent of chamomile and lavender.

  “I take it whatever has kept you this long while did not go well?”

  “Why are you up?” Tanvir asked, unable to keep the hostile edge from his voice.

  “I heard them summon you and couldn’t go back to sleep.” She set the mug down with a dull thunk on the table. Her bark-brown hair—the same shade as his—hung in a thick braid down her back, and her skin was luminescent. But Tanvir could still remember how she’d looked the first time he’d seen her after that fateful day when he’d lost track of her on the battlefield. Hair raggedly shorn to just below her chin, her skin sallow, her eyes lackluster. Until she’d seen him standing there, alive, saving her from the fate she’d thought never to be released from. Her face had lit up with shock and relief; he’d never forget the fragrance of her gratitude as he’d embraced her for the first time in so very long.

  But now he had a new memory that tarnished the other: the burn of Evelayn’s anger, the pain of her betrayal. After so long, he’d nearly convinced himself that he’d never see her again. But of course he’d been mistaken—as he had been so often before.

  “Sit down, brother, and tell me what has happened.” Letha gestured to the chair on
the other side of the small table.

  Tanvir sat heavily on the plush cushion and propped his elbows on the table, to drop his head into his hands.

  “Let me get you something to drink,” Letha offered, as gracious as ever. Once, they had fought and groused at one another. Once, she had been as invincible as he on the battlefield. But her time as a prisoner had changed her. Before, Tanvir had felt as though he needed to constantly watch his back lest she take him by surprise with an attack of some sort; now she seemed as fragile as porcelain. Yes, he’d saved his sister from death, but not from the consequences of what had happened to her. This female was nothing like the one he’d lost that day on the battlefield.

  “There’s no need. Not unless you think to offer me something much stronger than that tea in your mug.”

  Letha was quiet for a moment, and then, “I heard sounds of fighting. Was the castle under attack?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “But that’s not what has upset you.”

  “No,” he confirmed.

  “Tanvir.” He flinched when she touched his arm gently. “Look at me. Tell me what has happened. For once, let me help you.”

  He did as she bid, looking up to meet her butter-yellow eyes that had always seemed to glow, even in the faint, flickering light of the few candles she had lit during her apparent vigil, waiting for him to return. “There is nothing you can do, I’m sorry. It is merely …” The price I had to pay to rescue you. But he couldn’t say the words—he couldn’t bear to add to her guilt. “The reminder of an old hurt. Don’t think on it.”

  Letha’s fingers wrapped around his arm. “Tanv, I’m not as fragile as you think. And I can tell when something has upset you far more than just a memory.”

  He shook his head but didn’t respond.

  They were quiet for a long moment, and then Letha said, “I fear you made a bad bargain, all those years ago.”

  Tanvir’s head jerked up. “You cannot possibly think that to be true. You’re here and alive, are you not? That’s all I ever wanted.”

  Letha eyed him speculatively, her fingers flexing against his arms. “All? I think not, brother. I think you’ve learned to want more … though you’ve tried to hide it all these years.”

  He yanked away from her, forcing himself to ignore the flash of hurt that crossed her face. “You don’t know what you are talking about. And there truly is nothing you can do. Especially not tonight. The castle is safe for now, and I have returned, so go back to bed. You need to get your rest.”

  Tanvir pushed back the chair and headed for his room, refusing to look at her sitting there, surely watching him walk away. The scent of her dismay was enough; he didn’t need to see it on her face.

  Only once the door was shut and the lock shoved firmly into place did he let his shoulders sag, and the pain hit him as if he’d been blasted in the chest by shadowflame. He’d known the potential cost of his choices when he’d made them but …

  Tanvir lifted his right arm and rubbed it, remembering the feel of the cord that had been wound around it when he made his vow to be Bound to Evelayn. He squeezed his eyes shut but couldn’t block the memory of that night. Of the way she’d looked at him—the way she’d kissed him. So much trust, so much love.

  And tonight, he’d finally received his reward for what he’d done all those years before—he’d watched that light in her eyes die.

  He’d watched her love for him shatter.

  Tanvir dropped to his knees on the hard floor and let his head fall into his hands.

  “What do we do now?”

  “What does this mean?”

  “I have to see her—I must get to her at once!”

  This last was from Rylese, Evelayn’s aunt, who had jumped to her feet when Quinlen made the announcement, the blood leaving her lips, her eyes so wide the whites were visible all around her earth-brown irises.

  All those who they had been able to reach in time had gathered in their home, making the normally spacious dining room feel cramped and close. Though it was bitterly cold outside, a frigid wind beating a constant barrage against the drawn shutters and sturdy walls of the house, it was miserably hot in the room full of males and females who had dedicated their lives to finding Evelayn and somehow restoring her power. Ceren wished to open a window but didn’t dare for fear of being seen and questioned. If Lorcan found out that she had told not only Quinlen but an entire group of Draíolon that she’d seen Evelayn in his quarters this past night, he was sure to do far worse than imprison her.

  “As much as we’d all like to rush to her side,” Quinlen called out over the other voices, “we must wait. For now,” he added when many protested—loudly.

  “It is a very precarious situation.” Ceren spoke up from where she stood beside Quinlen.

  “Are we not all in a precarious situation? Every year, our kingdom weakens and dies a little more. If our queen has finally returned, we must go to her—we must fight for her!”

  “And be cut down in the process? We are nearly powerless, especially against the power of King Lorcan and his Draíolon. Which is why that is precisely what we shouldn’t do.” Quinlen’s deep voice cut through the rising din of the restless group. “If we tried to storm the castle, it would be tantamount to a suicide mission, leaving Queen Evelayn completely without allies.”

  “Lord Quinlen is right. We must be cautious—more now than ever,” General Kelwyn said from where he stood near the wall, observing silently until that moment. “King Lorcan will be watching closer than before, not only because the queen has returned, but because Ceren knows.”

  “Then what are you suggesting?” Rylese spoke again, her sharp gaze slicing to Ceren before returning to Quinlen. “That I leave my niece there in the hands of that … that monster?”

  “He won’t hurt her.”

  There was an immediate outcry of disagreement.

  “I speak truthfully!” Ceren was as shocked to hear herself say the words as anyone in the room—or at least she would have been before the few hours she’d spent in the castle. But though it defied logic and experience, she knew it to be accurate. After witnessing the way he’d treated Evelayn that night, she knew her friend was safe. For now, at least.

  “How dare you defend him!” The shout came from the back of the room. “She was supposedly your closest friend—you saw him transform her and then tear the stone from her breast. Who’s to say he wasn’t waiting for you to leave to finish the job?”

  More shouts and cries.

  “He hasn’t done it yet—why now?” Ceren yelled to be heard over them all, but she wasn’t loud enough.

  “SILENCE!” General Kelwyn roared, and immediately the room went quiet. “Let her speak—and no more interruptions.”

  All faces turned to Ceren, begrudging and impatient.

  “I don’t know why he did what he did that night … but he hasn’t hurt her since,” Ceren tried again, ignoring the tension that had built in the crowd. “He has done nothing this night that gave me concern, either. His brother was gravely injured during the attack on the castle, and he was wholly absorbed in tending him.”

  “What attack?”

  “What is she talking about?”

  “Is Prince Lothar dying?”

  The new outburst hit Ceren like a tidal wave, threatening to pull her under. Her adrenaline had kept her going up, but suddenly it drained away entirely, leaving her exhausted to the point she could barely summon the energy to remain standing before them all. These were her friends and allies, her most trusted confidants. But right now, they felt like more like strangers on the verge of riot. So much had happened that night, so much that she still had to process—and so much more to try and figure out. Like where Evelayn had been, and why she’d suddenly returned.

  But for now, there was this to deal with.

  “I will return to the castle later this morning, to make certain she is unharmed.” After I rest for at least an hour or two, Ceren added silently to her offer. r />
  “And why would he allow you to see her again? How can you be sure you could even get an audience with him?”

  “If I show up and send a note that Lady Ceren has come about important business, I guarantee he will see me.” Ceren lifted her chin, attempting the pose she’d seen Evelayn employ so many times, daring anyone to argue with her.

  Though the other Draíolon didn’t seem very happy about her proposal, General Kelwyn and Quinlen readily agreed, and soon were making plans while she only half listened, her thoughts turning to the castle and to her closest friend.

  There was a crack in the shutters that allowed her to peek outside if she squinted, only to see downy white fluff swirling slowly toward the brown, half-dead earth. The first snow of the year during Athrúfar in Éadrolan?

  Even though it was true she didn’t believe Lorcan would harm Evelayn, Ceren knew she had to help her queen escape his grasp and regain her power as soon as possible.

  Or they were all lost.

  BY THE TIME LOTHAR FINALLY STOPPED THRASHING ON the bed, the sun had risen, breaking through the clouds of a storm that had left a fine dusting of snow across the castle grounds. Evelayn’s eyes burned with fatigue—and with the assault on her senses. She hadn’t seen sunlight as a Draíolon in a decade. She’d forgotten just how bright it was, how many layers there could be to light. Whenever she looked toward the window, she had to fight the urge to squint.

  “When I’ve been in my hawk form too long, it takes some time to readjust to my Draíolon senses, too.”

  Evelayn glanced at Lorcan in the chair where he’d spent the majority of the night, leaning toward his brother. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

  Lorcan rubbed at his eyes wearily. “Of course not. Why would I wish to comfort you?”

  The hard edge to his voice was at odds with the apathetic words.

  “I don’t understand you.” Evelayn had spent the night examining him, trying to come to terms with the many different sides she’d seen of the powerful male. “You made a vow of peace, and then turned around and did this to me.” She gestured to the scar on her breastbone where her conduit stone had once been embedded in her skin. “You leave me for a year at a time on that lake as a swan—but not a swan, not truly. Only to force me back into my Draíolon form every night of Athrúfar and ask me to Bind myself to you. And now I’m here. And you …”