Page 39 of Only in Moonlight (The Moonlit Court #1)

Emmeline

W e entered a set of bedchambers just ten feet past Drudon’s corpse. Valen strode straight to a mirror, reached behind it, and flipped some kind of trigger.

A hidden panel along the wall slid open with barely a whisper, revealing a narrow passage that yawned before us like a hungry mouth. Blue torches sputtered to life along the walls, their cold flames casting eerie shadows that danced and writhed in the stale air.

Even with the torchlight, the passageway stretched into darkness, its stone walls slick with moisture and years of neglect.

The air tasted of dust and decay, making my throat close up.

Or maybe that was just the memory of Drudon’s final breath, the way his eyes had gone vacant while his blood spread across those pristine marble floors.

I pressed my hand to my mouth, fighting down the bile that rose in my throat. I’d seen death before—too many times in Thallence—but never like that. Never so personal, so intimate. Never someone I knew being killed by someone I...

Don’t think about it, I told myself firmly. Not now.

Valen stepped into the passage first, his movements mechanical and precise. He hadn’t spoken since we’d left his brother’s body behind, hadn’t even looked at me directly. The Selenian Jewel kept flickering at his hip, casting an intermittent light that made his face look corpse-pale.

I followed him into the narrow space, immediately regretting it as something sticky caught in my hair.

Spiderwebs. Of course. I clawed at the gossamer strands as tiny shapes scuttled away from our footsteps.

In the torchlight, they looked like living jewels—emerald and sapphire and ruby—their multifaceted eyes glinting as they disappeared into cracks in the stone.

Another web caught across my face, and I spat out the taste of dust and something viler. My hands shook as I pulled the sticky threads away, and I realized I was trembling. Not from the cold but from everything else. The heist, the fight, the blood.

The way Valen had looked when he’d driven his sword into his brother’s chest.

God and Goddess, I couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been for him. Sure, Drudon was an asshole, but he was still Valen’s brother. And if Valen hadn’t killed him, he’d have murdered both of us. The blood dripping down Valen’s side was proof enough of that.

“Valen,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over our footsteps. “Are you—?”

“Fine.” The word was clipped, final. He didn’t turn around, didn’t slow his relentless pace through the narrow tunnel.

My chest tightened, a familiar ache spreading beneath my ribs. Of course he was pulling away. Why had I expected anything different? The job was done—we had the jewel and were leaving the palace. He’d gotten what he needed from me, and now I was just dead weight.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

My face burned with shame, hot and prickly.

How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let myself believe that someone like him—noble, educated, fey —could actually care about someone like me?

I’d sworn I’d never be that na?ve. Never trust a fey man’s silver tongue or believe their honeyed lies. But here I was, following Valen through a spider-infested tunnel like some lovesick fool.

The passage curved sharply to the left, and I had to duck under a thick cluster of webs. Something small and many-legged skittered across my shoulder, and I bit back a yelp. The last thing I needed was to look even more pathetic than I already did.

Muffled voices drifted through the walls—guards, probably, searching for us.

Or maybe people were already gossiping about Drudon’s murder.

My stomach lurched again at the thought, and I pressed my hand against the rough stone wall to steady myself.

The surface was damp and cold, leaving a film of moisture on my palm.

“They’ll find him soon, if they haven’t already,” I said, more to fill the oppressive silence than because I expected an answer.

Valen’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t respond. He just kept walking, his sword hand flexing and clenching at his side. I wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but what could I say? Sorry you had to kill your brother for a magical rock and a thief you barely know?

I walked into another web, this one thick enough that I had to use both hands to pull it away.

The sticky strands clung to my fingers, and I wiped them on my dress with a grimace.

My beautiful gown—the one that had made me feel like I belonged in that glittering ballroom—was now torn and stained with dust and worse things.

Just like me. Dressed up and pretty on the surface, but underneath still the same guttersnipe who’d grown up stealing bread and sleeping with lice.

The voices from beyond the walls grew louder for a moment, then faded as we moved deeper into the passage. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat sending waves of nausea through my already-churning stomach. What if they caught us? What if this nightmare had been for nothing?

But no—Valen had his precious jewel. Whatever happened to me, he’d gotten what he came for. The thought sat in my chest like a stone, heavy and bitter.

I stumbled over an uneven section of floor, my hand shooting out to catch myself against the wall. Behind me, more voices echoed through the walls—closer now, more urgent. They must have been tracking us with Lurena’s spell.

“Shouldn’t we leave the jewel here?” I asked. “Nobody knows about the passage. We can come back for it when it’s safe.”

Nobody knows you’re Drudon’s killer.

He shook his head jerkily. “They’ll break down the wall if they think the Selenian Jewel is behind it. And I need to get the jewel to the rendezvous point before morning. A runner will take it out of the city.”

“What?” I stopped dead in the middle of the passageway. “You never said anything about that.”

“You didn’t need to know.”

He didn’t look at me, just kept marching down the passageway. I scurried to catch up, not daring to test if he would actually leave me behind.

“Valen,” I tried again, desperation creeping into my voice. “Please, just—”

“We’re almost there.” His voice was devoid of emotion. He might have been commenting on the weather.

The dismissal hit me like a physical blow. My throat constricted, and I blinked back tears that I refused to let fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

The passage sloped upward, and I could smell something different in the air—fresher, tinged with night-blooming flowers. Hope flickered in my chest despite everything. We were almost out. Almost free.

But free to what? For him to sell me out? Abandon me? Or to go our separate ways while I pretended this had all meant nothing? To smile and nod while he walked away with his prize, leaving me with nothing but memories and regrets?

My face burned hotter, shame and hurt twisting together in my gut like a living thing. I’d let myself believe in fairy tales despite everything I knew about the world. Despite everything I knew about men from the Moonlit Court and their pretty lies.

The blue torchlight ahead grew brighter, and I could hear running water. We were close now—so close I could taste freedom on the night air. But all I felt was the familiar weight of disappointment settling over my shoulders like an old, worn cloak.

Some things never changed. Some lessons had to be learned over and over again, no matter how much they hurt.

The passage opened ahead of us into what looked like natural stone, rough and unworked, and lantern light filtered in from somewhere ahead. We’d reached the grotto.

We’d made it out.

If only things could get easier from here.