Page 25

Shit,couldshe be telling the truth? She knew other things about me.

If what she says is true, I’ve been destined for heartache. Even if I look past how coarse and petty humans can be, there’s still their insignificant lifespan to deal with. A mortal life can begin and end within the snap of my fingers.

“Eurion?” Malaki’s voice rings out in the night air.

I close my eyes. This moment, which I’d assumed couldn’t get any worse, just did.

I glance over my shoulder. Malaki stands several feet behind me, looking between me and the fae woman.

The woman lifts her eyebrows. “Does My Lord have friends? My, have you come a long way since your humble beginnings. Too bad he doesn’t even know your real name. Hard to keep a friendship when it’s built on lies.”

Malaki steps forward. “Leave us, wench.”

She doesn’t budge. Instead she licks the last of my blood off her finger. Her eyelids flutter closed.

“Oh, what future awaits you!” she says, her eyes darting back and forth beneath her lids. All at once, they snap open. “I’d tell you the rest, but where’s the fun in living if you already know how it all ends?”

She begins to back away into the foliage. “Son of Galleghar Nyx, you’re going to need more than sheer fury to kill your father. Join the royal guard. Find your valor. What you seek lies on the other side of it. Perhaps then a different sort of ruler will reign over the Kingdom of Night.

“Oh, and be kind to your dear human mate. You really don’t deserve her.”

The prophetess disappears into the trees, and now I’m left with the mess she made.

Several seconds pass in silence.

“Galleghar Nyx … is your father?” Malaki finally says.

Should I flee? Should I kill my closest friend—my brother?

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I feel shame wash over me. I am not my father, who kills his foes the moment he senses a threat.

Lying always works.

I piece together the excuse I plan to say. The lie already tastes bitter, and I haven’t even spoken it.

My eyes meet Malaki’s, and I just … can’t. Not tonight, on the anniversary of my mother’s death. I don’t have all that much fight left in me. I’m not even two decades old and I feel as weary as the ancients.

Rather than answering him, I force my wings into existence, dissolving the enchantment that normally cloaks them. I stretch the taloned tips of them as far as I can, the sinewy flesh brushing nearby trees.

Malaki staggers back, his eyes transfixed on my wings, wings that only the royal bloodline inherits.

“You escaped the Purge?” he asks, his gaze finding mine.

So far.

“My mother and I lived in hiding,” I explain. “My father didn’t know of my existence until a little over two years ago. He found us a few days before I joined the Brotherhood.”

Malaki’s eyes spark with understanding. Galleghar visits, mother dies, son flees. It’s fairly easy to piece it all together.

“You survived an encounter with the Shadow King?” he says, astounded.

I wet my dry lips and nod.

Malaki swears. “That information could get you killed—it could get me killed.”

Or it could make him rich—very, very rich. And men like my brothers … the only thing they love more than their comrades is money.

He rubs his face with a darkly tanned hand. “Gods.” He reaches behind him for his holstered dagger.