Page 81 of Fallen Nocturne

The memory of the commander’s spell returns with brutal clarity. Fire climbing the walls and searing through the air. Arescaine’s wings wrapped around me, dark and massive, sealing me away from the flames. I remember the smell of burning membrane and the way his body locked with pain while he held me against his chest. He did not make a sound.

The fae fire was so powerful that it left Arescaine, a Strigon, unable to fly or use his shadow magic. That is what we are up against.

I glance at him walking beside me. His face is calm in the shadows. My leg sends sharp spikes of pain through me with each step. The running around in the Painted Moth’s maze was brutal, but the walk back home is worse.

But I don’t slow or complain. I just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other. His pace slows slightly, just enough to make it easier for me to keep up.

“Once my injury recovers a little more, I should be able to use my shadow again,” Arescaine says quietly.

“That’s all right,” I reply. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to slow down because of me. But the relief is immediate. My leg still hurts, but the slower pace makes it bearable. So I say nothing and accept the small mercy.

We walk without speaking for a long time. The forest fills the silence around us with the wind moving through the branches overhead, the distant call of an owl and the rustle of some small creature in the underbrush.

“I’ve been to the Painted Moth before.” I break the heavy silence.

Arescaine says nothing.

“I remember it.” I frown, trying to grasp at the fragments. “The building that twisted back on itself, the auction room. I remember standing on that platform.”

The memory is vivid. I can still feel the fear coursing through me. The terror of not knowing who would buy me or what they’d do once they had.

“I remember Petal, River and Fleur helping me,” I continue. “They were so kind.”

The vampire doesn’t respond. He simply keeps walking beside me.

“But there are pieces missing,” I say, looking at him. “Big pieces, as if someone cut them out.”

Arescaine stares ahead, his expression unreadable.

“Petal called you my prince,” I press. “Why would she say that?”

“I don’t know.”

“They aren’t afraid of you.” I study his profile. “Were you there that same night?”

Arescaine keeps his gaze on the path ahead.

For a long moment, only the forest answers.

Then he says quietly, “Yes.”

“But I don’t remember you being there at all.” I stop walking.

It forces him to stop too. I turn to face him in the darkness. “I remember everything, but you’re just... gone. Erased completely.”

He looks at me. In the moonlight filtering through the branches, his features are sharp and shadowed. I realize now the gaps aren’t random.

They are specific and they all center around him.

I focus on the memory and try to see past the missing pieces. There is something there, just beyond my reach. Something important.

The auction room, the platform, people in the crowd bidding, and among them a figure. I push at the memory. Try to see his face clearly to remember—

Pain explodes through my skull.

Agony rips through me as claws made of fire scratch at my brain. I cry out and stumble. My hands fly to my head.

The world tilts. I am falling—