Page 94 of Taken By the Lord of the Nocturne Court

“My promised—”

I spot the arrow headed straight for my heart half a second too late.

Chapter 34

Luke

My body stiffens when I spot something in the air, but then Kyran brings me closer to his wide chest and shields me from it. Tristan’s red hair flashes on the edge of my vision, and then he falls into Kyran with a dull grunt, grabbing his shoulder.

I sense blood, but it’s not the stag’s.

No, that sharp scent belongs to an elf, and I cover my mouth when Tristan descends to his knees, clutching at his throat with a sharp wheeze. A bolt is sticking out of his exposed thigh, but the veins on his neck turn black, as if poison was spreading from where the projectile broke the skin.

The Marquise gives a choked cry and dashes to our side with her own crossbow ready, but as Tristan collapses from a bolt meant for my Kyran, I’m too shocked to acknowledge her presence.

The contrast between light and dark is sharper, because the shadows feel tangible now. I can’t explain it, they justdo. Across the clearing, I spot a shadow moving down an ancient tree and slithering into the bushes. It couldn’t have been cast by anything within sight, and it disappears like a black widow that has just delivered its venom. Kyran’s too preoccupied with helping Tristan to take note of it, but my body remains alert to the presence of this unknown predator.

Several horses dash into the clearing, with Sylvan heading the party despite being the most insignificant member of the Goldweed line. His father and Elodie are right behind him, but as they halt, his heels hit the ground first.

“It’s poison!” Kyran grits through his teeth, holding Tristan in his arms. “This was not a bolt meant for the stag.”

Tristan gasps for air, his face turning gray, throat swelling. “M-my duty—” he tries to speak, but it becomes impossible for him, and all I can think of is that this poison was meant for Kyran.

“We will track this assassin!” Gabriel Goldweed yells out, and gestures at his daughter.

Elodie takes in the scene with a somber expression, but she stalls when her gaze lands on me. She must understand what happened despite me standing here uselessly.

And I see it. Her shadow recoils under her cloak when our eyes meet. She can’t be afraid of me, can she? I’m barely a baby taking his first steps in my understanding of shadowcraft.

She follows her father out of the clearing as Sylvan runs to us with his cheeks going pink.

“What can we do?” I ask Kyran.

The reality of maybe losing Tristan hovers over us like a guillotine. I’ve seen death since I arrived in the Nightmare Realm, even brushed against it myself, but this is too damn close.

Tristan has often been my companion, eager to learn about my world, happy to joke around or teach me things. I know he has a violent side, there are eels on his forearms to prove it, but he lives in a cruel, dangerous world, so that’s to be expected.

He’s been nothing but kind to me.

He’s a bright flame and doesn’t deserve to go out this way.

Kyran clenches his teeth. “We need to get him to the medics in the palace.”

“No! Don’t move him!” Sylvan yells and drops to his knees by Tristan’s side. Some of his silvery blond strands escaped the neat, slicked-back hairdo, and hang in his face. He’s tiny, dainty even, but commands Kyran’s attention like a scalpel that doesn’t need to be large to cut deeply.

“What do you know about this?” Kyran asks. “Where is your brother?” he adds in a low voice that promises death and destruction for the wrong answer.

Sylvan looks up at him with eyes like two bright sapphires frozen in ice, but he’s dipping his delicate fingers in the… ground? No. In the shadow. “I don’t know and I don’t care. Last time I saw him, he was nursing his bruised face. You wouldn’t know anything aboutthat, would you?”

“Focus on Tristan!” Kyran snarls as the Marquise paces right behind us.

Sylvan’s lips are a tight line, and I watch him lift a pale shadow out of the ground around him. With a grunt of effort, he moves it over Tristan. “I know this poison. We need to slow down his heart so the venom doesn’t spread all over his body,thenget a medic here. That’s his only chance.”

Thick strands of Kyran’s hair lift, as if lightning was about to strike him. “And your shadow helps with that,how?”

Sylvan is panting with effort, and a sheen of sweat glints on his forehead. “It might be weak, but it’s a container.”

I see it now. The pale shadow Sylvan has created is like a coffin holding Tristan’s prone body. The small elf pulls out a vial containing a lilac powder from the pocket of his jacket and sprinkles it onto the barrier.