Page 193 of Fallen Nocturne

Vladimir Mircea Drăculea.

My friend whom we locked inside a tomb after he went mad. I look again.

Death watches me through Vlad’s furious eyes, his expression promising vengeance from beyond the grave.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Chapter 27 Svenn

The transition from death to life is violent.

One moment we’re floating in light and nothingness and the next we’re slammed back into our bodies.

Rhianelle convulses against me. A gasp rips from her lungs as she presses both palms to my chest, her weight settling over me where we still sit tangled together on the floor. I wrap an arm around her before she can pitch sideways and hold her against me until the trembling eases.

The throne room. We’re back.

I look around. Everyone is still here.

Bas is leaning against a pillar. His face is drawn and haggard. He looks older than I’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something for a vampire who’s existed since before recorded history. But when his eyes meet mine, he smiles.

“Brother,” he says. “Welcome back.”

“Bas,” I reply, and there’s so much I want to say. My friend. The only one who has ever been a real brother to me. He fought her from the inside and held on.

Then the room erupts around us.

Shade is pale from the wound the Fae King gave him, but the moment Rhianelle lifts her head, he pushes himself upright. She lets out a broken little laugh as he reaches her.

The Grimsbane wraps his arms around her fiercely, holding on like he has forgotten anyone else is in the room.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he says, voice rough. “Do you hear me?”

Rhianelle wraps her arms around him. “I’m here, Shade. I’m here.”

Garrett follows.

His armor is dented and bloodied, and he looks like he’s been through hell. I suppose he has. But when Rhianelle turns toward him, his expression breaks.

“Your Highness,” he breathes, like he cannot quite believe she is real.

Rhianelle barely has time to answer before he pulls her into a careful, desperate embrace.

Lucien approaches last. In his wolf form, he presses his massive head against Rhianelle’s shoulder and lets out a low, broken whine. She sinks her fingers into his fur and scratches behind his ears.

“I missed you too,” she whispers.

Landon is sitting on the steps leading to the throne, his missing right arm bound in makeshift bandages. Despite his injuries, he is watching Rhianelle with a quiet smile. It is tired and pained and full of relief.

“How?” Garrett demands, looking between us. “You were dead. Both of you. There was no pulse, no breath, nothing. Bas checked. How are you here?”

“Death let us go,” Rhianelle says simply.

Garrett stares at her. “Death let you go?”

He looks at me as though I might offer a more reasonable explanation. I have none.

I find Rainer across the room. His skin has a grayish tint to it due to the poison. He’s dying.