Page 159 of Fallen Nocturne

I release a long breath and begin the longest performance of my eternal life.

The others are gone, dragged from the throne room by Cedwyn’s treachery. For once, I am grateful Rhianelle is not here to witness Lilith’s wounded vanity. A creature like her is most dangerous when pride and fury meet.

Lilith keeps one hand pressed to her cheek where the Fae King struck her. Her fingers touch the skin, pulling away before returning again.

A bruise darkens beneath her fingers, slowly fading as magic repairs the damage. She turns her hatred on the kneeling Fae King again. Lilith steps forward and slaps him across the face with enough force to turn his head.

“You ruined my face,” she snarls.

He cannot retaliate, though the fury in his eyes promises what he would do if she ever released him.

Lilith strikes him again. Then again. Then a third time, each blow sharper than the last. Only when she is satisfied does she step back.

Lilith studies her reflection in a small mirror while the last traces of the bruise disappear. She turns toward me and notices the iron cuffs around my wrists.

“Are those truly necessary?” she asks.

“Yes,” Ruth answers before I can. “He betrayed you once. I will not allow him to do it again.”

Lilith’s smile sharpens. “I have perfect control now. Morgaine’s power has made certain of that.”

She turns toward Bas. “Bring me the wine, love.”

His body obeys before his mind can resist. He takes the decanter from the table, pours her a cup, and places it in her waiting hand before returning to his seat.

Lilith looks back at Ruth. “You see? There is no need for the cuffs. Unchain Arescaine.”

Ruth’s jaw tightens, but he reaches for the restraints.

“There is no need,” I say.

My shadow rises from beneath my feet and curls around the iron. Darkness devours the cuffs piece by piece until nothing remains around my wrists.

Lilith gives a delighted squeal. “That is why you were always my favourite.”

Ruth looks away, but not before I see the envy burning across his face. The creatures sacrificed to create the Strigon granted power to each of us in different forms. They never gave Ruthven anything beyond the strength and immortality we all share. He has hated us for it ever since.

Lilith gives him an indulgent smile, then looks between Bas and me. “What a touching reunion. The old guard together again.”

Ruth smiles. “It is almost like old times, isn’t it?”

Old times.

My mind drags me back against my will, back to when we were five instead of three.

We were kings once, gods among our people.

Vlad, Bas, Han, Ruth, and I. The five princes of the night. We stood together in the hall of our fortress, the dark empire of Morsvyenn stretching out beneath us. After we locked Lilith away in her tomb of stone and shadow, we thought we were free.

We were fools.

I was Prince Andras the Slaughter. I let them fear me and whisper about the blood on my hands. Better they fear me than know the truth. That every kill attributed to Andras the Slaughter was really Ruth’s work. My brother. My poison.

We tried making the empire work. But where I tried to build, Ruth only knew how to destroy. Where I sought to protect our people, he bathed in their suffering. Because we shared a face while he worked his cruelties, the legend of Andras the Slaughter grew.

I let it.

Because if they feared Andras then they would obey. If they obeyed, I could keep them safe from the real monster.