Page 163 of Fallen Nocturne

Trust.

She trusts me.

Even as I kneel before her with instruments of torture in my hands, Rhianelle trusts me. Her eyes are soft. Lilac pools that hold entire worlds. And in them, I see... knowing.

She knows.

I reach for her delicate foot. I’ve kissed these feet and now I’m supposed to—

“Do it or I’ll have Ruth do it,” Lilith commands, her voice sharp.

I position the metallic shoe and Rhianelle’s breath hitches from anticipation.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, so low only she can hear. “Forgive me.”

The room plunges into darkness.

Coinneach has finally made his move. I feel him surge through the room like a tidal wave of night. It wraps around our allies, pulling them from their bonds. The darkness is so complete even I can barely see.

But I feel everything because I’m the one who commands it.

Coinneach reaches Garrett first, dissolving the chains holding them. Then Shade. I feel my shadow hesitate for just a moment at the Grimsbane assassin, some primal recognition passing between them. Then the wolf, snarling and snapping as the bonds fall away. Coinneach goes to Rainer last. He is still weakened from the Nevrin poison but alive and breathing.

Once they are free, Coinneach turns upon the carriage itself. Darkness pours through every gap in the woven branches, forcing them apart from within. Wood cracks throughout the throne room as the living cage splinters. Its thorn-covered walls collapse, and the great root wheels break beneath it.

The suppressing symbols flare once, then vanish.

Coinneach does not release the shadows.

The darkness holds for three more heartbeats. It’s long enough for our allies to arm themselves and find their footing.

Light begins to seep back into the throne room. The green flames inside the suspended skulls flicker through the darkness first, revealing broken branches scattered across the floor and the prisoners standing free among them.

“What—” Ruth’s voice cuts through the dark. “What is this?”

“A change of plans.”

I hurl one of the iron shoes through the fading darkness. It strikes Ruth across the mouth, the white-hot metal searing his lips before dropping to the floor.

Ruth roars, one hand flying to his burned mouth. His flesh is already beginning to heal.

He is Strigon. Pain will slow him, but it will not stop him.

I launch myself at him with the wrath of a thousand stolen years behind me.

“Hello, brother,” I whisper.

I don’t wait for him to answer. We collide in the center of the room, a tangle of fangs and claws and pure hatred. Ruth was always more vicious and creative in his cruelty. But cruelty is all he has.

His claws rake across my face, opening furrows that heal almost instantly. My fist catches his jaw with a crack that echoes off the stone. We’re snarling and trading blows across the throne room, two beasts wearing human skin.

“You always were so righteous and foolish,” Ruth hisses as we grapple, our faces inches apart. “The noble prince. It made me sick.”

“And you were always a rabid dog that should have been put down,” I growl back.

Around us, I sense the others engaging their own battles. Rhianelle’s presence burns like cold fire as she goes after Lilith.

My brave little fawn.