Page 80 of Fallen Nocturne

I stand beside the Auctioneer with Arescaine close at my back.

“Where will you go?” I ask Thorn.

“Away from the war. Somewhere we can rebuild.” His expression remains composed, but his fingers tighten around the case of glowing seeds. “I will plant new Moths and start over.”

“All of you?”

Thorn Vale looks toward his people. “All who wish to come. The Painted Moth has never been a place, Your Highness. It is the people who make it one.”

River approaches first. He bows awkwardly, then seems to decide formality is no longer worth the effort and embraces me.

Fleur takes his place and wraps both arms around me. “Come find us when we build the next Moth.”

“I will.” Her wings flutter once behind her in nervous surprise when I hug her back.

Petal waits until Fleur releases me, then steps forward and hugs me fiercely. Her butterfly wings fold around my shoulders, trembling against my back.

“Stay safe, Fawn.” She pulls back, smiling through tears. “And take care of your prince.”

What?

I glance at Arescaine. His face gives nothing away, though one dark eyebrow lifts slightly.

“Petal, he isn’t—”

But she is already leaving with the others. The carts begin to move as dawn breaks over Greenvale. Thorn Vale walks at the front with the case of seeds held against his chest. Petal, River and Fleur fall into step among the others.

Morning light spreads across the road as they leave, turning the dust around them gold. Wings catch the sunrise as some rise above the procession, flying toward whatever waits beyond Greenvale.

I watch them go.

“We should leave,” Arescaine says quietly. “Before questions are asked about what happened here.”

I nod.

Bells ring from the town square while guards struggle to force a path through the growing crowd. I draw my hood over my silver hair. Arescaine moves beside me, placing himself between me and every guard we pass.

We walk back through Greenvale in silence.

The forest path back to the capital is dark, moonlight barely filtering through the thick canopy overhead. We have been walking since morning, stopping only when Arescaine’s injuries forced him to rest. Now night has fallen again, and my leg throbs with each step, the adrenaline from the Painted Moth long since worn away.

But I keep walking.

Beside me, Arescaine moves silently through the darkness. His footsteps make no sound. I hear only the faint whisper of his cloak and the occasional crack of a twig beneath my own boots.

We walk in silence.

The path is barely visible in the moonlight. But Arescaine moves through it like he can see perfectly. Darkness is nothing to him.

He is a Nightwalker. Darkness is his element.

Last night replays in my mind. Lord Kharlis’s voice describing troop positions to the fae commanders. They’re all dead now. The evidence of their treachery dies with them. But I heard everything. I know what they planned and which positions they compromised.

I can’t quite bring myself to feel guilty about Lord Kharlis’s death. The traitor who’d been selling my people’s lives can’t betray anyone ever again. I’m ready to tell Rainer everything as soon as we return.

I think about Petal’s bruised eye, the terror in River and Fleur’s voices when they talk about the abuse. The Fae King has stopped enforcing honor among the Highborn Fae.

Their magic is terrifying. I cannot stop thinking about what will happen when my people face it on a battlefield.