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He hesitated, but complied, though his gaze remained downcast until he stood directly before Dominique and bared his neck.

The Lord of Night embraced him, pierced the vein, and marveled at the tale he found unfolding in the five-hundred-year-old mind. When he cut his palm and offered his own blood, Dominique smiled. “Welcome, Leonidas.”

55

Ghosts

Standinginthepredawnquiet, Dominique turned his face to the fading stars and listened. Cool wind soughed in the surrounding forest, drenched with pungent resins, damp earth, and sweet dew. Nearby, a drowsy songbird warbled tentatively. In the distance, the waterfall rumbled.

And unfurling quietly, powerfully from his core, infusing the very fabric of the night, was the dark web. Never had there been so many aligned with it, so many minds bound to him, so near to him. He felt rooted at the web’s center as its source and its master, protected and protector, inevitable and right.

Only one small flicker of discord remained, and only Dominique still heard it.

“It is not too late for you,” he said without looking at the gaunt form by his feet. Of the dozens laid out in neat rows across the clearing, Adilla was the only one still living. “You can still have the peace you sense in your young ones now.”

By now, Adilla’s body had regenerated a little of the blood it had lost. While he couldn’t do more than twitch his cadaverous fingers, his mind was stronger, aware of everything—and burning with undiluted resentment.

For long minutes, Dominique listened to Adilla’s mute rage, listened for any shadow of doubt or fear or even a question, any opening at all. There was none. Not even the coming of the sun’s inferno deterred him, which would be no small thing; old as he was, he would likely remain conscious through much of it. Dominique’s skin prickled with the memory of his own close encounter with the sun. It was not an agony he would wish on anyone, not even an enemy determined to destroy him.

“You have existed over a thousand years, Adilla. In all that time, have you truly found nothing to live for?”

The torrent of rage hesitated, surprised by a question rarely considered, if ever.

Wind gusted through the trees with a sorrowful moan.Ghosts,Dominique thought. The night was full of them. How many of all these dead had mattered to Adilla? Esteban maybe? Bhavanur at least?

“Kambysessssss,” Adilla rasped.

Dominique gazed at the withered face.

His mouth uncooperative, Adilla continued silently.Kambyses was the only one ever worthy of me. You took that from me, but you can never take his place. Never!

“But I have,” Dominique murmured. “As was his will. Does that mean nothing to you?”

You tricked him!

Had he? Dominique sifted through his memories of the games Kambyses played with him and all his younglings, manipulating them into doing exactly what he wanted—including his own death. The one instant in which Dominique had the upper hand changed nothing. It had merely brought on the inevitable sooner.

Adilla, watching these unguarded thoughts, growled quietly, and, by the end, mentally thrummed with fury.You understand nothing. I can never forgive you for what you did. Get away from me, you stupid child. Get away from me, and leave me to the sun.

There was no point, Dominique realized, in trying to sway him. His first impression of Adilla had been correct: power was all. Power to drown the insecurities that plagued him. Power to appease the anger that ruled him. Power that, in life, Adilla never had. And as a blood-drinker, all his power was derived from his association with Kambyses and the imagined promise of taking his place. Without that, only the fear and anger remained. If a millennium of night couldn’t change that, a ten-minute conversation wasn’t about to either. Still…

Dominique waited as the shadows melted. Night creatures rustled away. Exuberant bird song announced the coming day. And against his back, the dragon swords grew heavy. He had brought them to the surface as he often brought them anywhere—without really knowing why. He trusted that the reason would reveal itself, and so it did again now.

The sun roared ever louder in his ears and daylight thickened into a tangible force, making his flesh crawl around his bones. But there was no panic. For him, the cave’s refuge waited only steps away. Not so for the immobilized Adilla. The ancient one’s hollowed eyes were wide and quiet, the sky’s purple light reflecting in their fathomless depths. In his mind, the first tendrils of fear stirred.

“Is it still what you want?” Dominique asked, though how genuine a conversion at this point would be was debatable.

Shut up and burn with me or leave me the fuck alone.

He sighed. “That…I cannot do.” As he unsheathed one of his swords, the embedded dragon settled in his hand, radiating calm certainty. “From the moment Kambyses first drank from me, it has been my destiny to rule the world of night, to do with it as I choose. My choice has always been to bring peace to those who inhabit it. One way or another. Even to you.”

Adilla’s obsidian eyes locked on Dominique’s, ignoring the sword glinting against the morning sky.You are not worthy of me!

A single slash is all it took to silence the outrage for good. A moment later, there was one last flicker of something that might have been gratitude…or contempt. Maybe both, or neither. Then…nothing.

“Rest in peace, Adilla Khan.”

The wind sighed as the clearing brightened, and Dominique’s skin prickled. Glancing up, he saw the treetops catch fire in the sun’s first blood-orange rays. He watched the spectacle until his eyes watered, until the lethargy dragged at his limbs, and apprehension overpowered wonder.