Page 44 of Fallen Nocturne

“Exactly what I said.” She folds her hands on the table. “Morgaine wanted power. Whatever she made a bargain with, I don’t think she understood what she was inviting in. The mistress may be as much a prisoner as the king now.”

“How do you know any of this?” I ask.

“Whispers from palace servants.” Her gloved finger traces the rim of my mug. “They say Morgaine speaks to empty rooms and receives answers, though her voice no longer sounds like her own. Birds fall dead when the thing wearing her body passes beneath them, and servants disappear every week.”

She pauses, watching me from beneath her hood.

“One maid claims she saw Morgaine trapped inside a mirror, pounding against the glass and begging to be released while the thing wearing her body stood on the other side.”

My fingers tighten around the mug. “You believe her?”

“I believe the maid vanished the following morning.” Her hand withdraws from the mug. “Perhaps Morgaine’s search for power finally gave her more than she could control. Perhaps she opened a door and something walked through wearing her skin.”

Every muscle in my body goes still. “What is it?”

“That information costs more than you can afford, Herald.” There’s something almost apologetic in her tone. “But I can tell you this. War is coming. Soon. The entity controlling Eirik has been very busy making alliances, promises and threats.”

“We’re already at war.”

She shifts, and I catch a glimpse of pale skin beneath the hood. “Mammoths have been gathered from the frozen wastes. Fae warriors are being assembled in numbers the world hasn’t seen since Casimir’s conquest. Orcs and dwarves are mobilizing their full strength. You are on the losing side of this war, Landon.”

The use of my name sends ice down my spine.

“The elves can’t stand against that kind of force,” she continues. “Aelfheim will fall. Your queen will die. And everyone sheltering there will die with her.”

Rhianelle. The mate bond pulses in my chest at the thought of her in danger.

I grit my teeth. “What about Finnbheara? Can I trust him?”

The figure goes very still.

“No.”

The answer lands with enough force to empty my lungs.

“Finnbheara is loyal to his father above all else.” She leans closer, her voice dropping. “He will stand with the Fae King until the very end.”

“He’s my friend.”

“He was your friend.” The hooded figure straightens. “Meeting with him would be suicide.”

I want to argue and insist that she’s wrong. Finn would never betray me. Our bond runs deeper than politics and war.

But I remember the coldness in Eirik’s eyes when he ordered the attack on the elven capital. Finn was standing beside him, silent and obedient.

“Tell me about the entity,” I say instead. “What does it want?”

“I do not know.” She gathers her cloak around herself and rises. “But it wants your queen destroyed. Whatever drives it feels personal. A vengeance nursed across centuries.”

I stand with her. “Why Rhianelle?”

“That is the question you should be asking.”

She takes one step away, then pauses. “Here is one piece of advice you did not pay for. The entity knows about the mate bond. It knows you are sheltering in Aelfheim.”

Fear spikes through me. “How?”

“It has eyes everywhere. The Court of Nightmare trades with all sides, but we’re not the only ones dealing in information.” She moves toward the door. “Watch the shadows. Trust no one, not even those you once called friends.”