Page 71 of Ballad of Nightmares

The movement was a chore, but he let his legs hang on the side of the altar and met her eyes. “We really could have used you last night,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“I was dealing with our demons last night,” Millie said. “I heard it, but… I had to go meet Damien.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You went over the border?”

“No,” she said, and Sam sighed in relief. “No. I met him where he was dumping bodies. He’s going to call you later.”

“That bad?” Sam asked.

“I think he just wants to talk to you instead of passing messages,” Millie said. She looked between the two before her, obviously noting how pale and exhausted they were, and sighed heavily before saying, “Both of you smell like rotten corpses. I’ll pick up some food. For now, though… can you at least make it to the bath?”

Sam exchanged a look with Rolfe, who sniffed his own underarms and gave a grunt of agreement.

“And I don’t mean a hound bath, Rolfe,” Millie said. “An actual bath. Please.”

Rolfe pushed on the ground to stand. “I want a full lamb then.”

Millie raised a lazy brow, then gave Sam an expectant glance. “And you, Your Majesty?”

Sam hopped down from the altar, his stomach churning at even the thought of food. “Whatever you want,” he answered softly.

Are you okay this morning?Ana texted him later.

Sam debated how to answer. Because truthfully, he wasn’t. Between what he had seen of her in the prison and the people he’d led into an immortal life that night, he was tired. And along with hearing all those humans ask for revenge, he kept thinking about Ana and how she’d faced all those things so fearlessly.

He thought about the vision he’d had while watching her. Of setting her free and letting her have everything she wanted. Of the wings and the fire and the sword at her back.

Maybe he didn’t need to get rid of her.

Maybeshewas the answer.

He’d toyed with the idea previously, before he grew to know her. But thinking about getting rid of her then seemed like the worst mistake he would ever make. It twisted his heart to think of going a day without talking to her.

What he wanted, more than anything, was to go see her and tell her about the night he’d had. He wanted to tell her what the people that he’d spoken to had said about her. How a few of them had said they wanted revenge so they could take it in her name since she had given them the will and strength to seek it.

He wanted to lie in her arms and tell her everything.

And the realization scared him so much that he turned his phone on silent, left it on the table, and walked out into his garden, Luna following behind him.

He needed time to come to terms with this new piece. To plot it out and feel confident enough in it that he could present it to his friends as the next step.

Because maybe it was time.

When ravens fall, he’ll meet his match.

And to his own grave, she’ll lead him.

A knot wove his stomach as he pulled a piece of old parchment from his shadows, where he’d hid it on his person since it was made. A ritual for the being the witch had told him would give him everything he truly wanted, the being that would make this prison worth it.

The Ballad.

Sam inhaled the misty fog, the moss, and the white roses all around him. Special roses that bloomed in the shade and grew the most prominent thorns he’d ever seen. He took the shears from his pocket and began cutting a few that were ready, letting the thorns prick his fingers. The blood mingled with the blood of the dead already soaked into his skin.

For two hours, he let his mind rest of all that haunted him. And by the time he walked back inside, he had an arm full of flowers for the front table and some catnip that he needed to dry out for Luna.

Ana had texted him again, just his name and a question this time, and Sam took a moment before answering back.

I’m okay, he said.Work was tiresome.