He met her luminescent eyes, glowing softly in the night, filled with a warmth she hardly ever displayed.
“I believe in your future, and the future of Nevandia,” Marai continued.
“What if Nevandia doesn’t want me?” Ruenen asked, voicing a fear that had been brewing inside of him for years. “What if people are angry that I stayed away for so long?”
Marai’s brows pinched for a moment as she thought. “I abandoned you, but I came back. It wasn’t easy to admit my failings, but you listened, and I think you’ve forgiven me, at least partially.”
“I haven’t,” he said, but couldn’t stop the cockeyed smile from reaching his lips.
Marai snorted, and his heart nearly burst at the sound. “You’re far more likable and honorable than I am. Nevandia will see your goodness shining through. If you can forgive me for leaving, then your people can also forgive you. And I’ll be right by your side, for better or worse.”
Ruenen had forsaken his people. He’d shunned the responsibility and duty that was his birthright for far too long. Too many people had died protecting him to ensure that he would take the throne.
I need to become worthy of their sacrifice. He could finally set things right.
“Alright, Sassafras, you win,” he said. “I’ll go to Nevandia. I’ll declare myself.”
Marai didn’t look surprised. Instead, she smiled again as she had earlier in the woods. Smiled with pride, and his whole heart burned bright.
At dawn, Marai held out her hands. In an instant, a portal appeared. She’d summoned it easily; no strain shown on her face. Ruenen smelled the scent of magic, rich and bubbly. He briefly thought that if temptation had a smell, that would be it.
“Where’s the portal taking us?”
“The glen on the outskirts of Kellesar, near the river.”
Ruenen didn’t know where that was. He’d never been anywhere close to Nevandia’s capital city of Kellesar. He’d avoided it his entire life.
“It should be a safe spot. You need to go through first.”
With a nervous swallow, Ruenen’s grip on his lute strap tightened. He stepped into the portal, feeling the tendrils of magic stroke his cheeks and neck. The magic felt more solid this time. As he kept stepping between space and time, he sensed Marai all around him: strong, unwavering, sparkling. It eased his nerves.
His feet touched brown, brittle grass, and he took in his new surroundings. There was the Nydian River in the distance, snaking through the highlands, but its color was oddly muted and sludgy. The nature around him was gray and dull. Trees that should have been budding with spring life remained barren. Even the sky on a sunny day was overcast and glum. He’d heard that Nevandia’s lands were floundering, but it was strange to see it with his own eyes, to feel the emptiness so potently.
Something was wrong.
Marai appeared at his side, the portal gone. “I felt this darkness when we were in the Red Lands before, but now that I’ve used it, myself . . . Nevandia reeks of dark magic. I think Rayghast has been using it for years, sucking the life from these lands.”
“Do you think it can be reversed?” Ruenen asked. Add that to the long list of things he would soon be in charge of . . .
“I’m not sure. I don’t know enough about dark magic. Once Rayghast is killed, it’s possible the magic will be returned to the land.”
Once he’s killed? Ruenen scoffed. If they managed to kill him . . .
The capital city of Kellesar loomed in the distance, encircled by the Nydian, almost an island in the middle of the highlands. Ruenen didn’t want to look. He knew he’d see the castle spires climbing up towards the heavens and the gods-city of Empyra. Kellesar sat on a large hill; the city scaled upwards in a way unlike any other on the continent.
Marai suddenly stiffened and spun around, hand on the hilt of her sword.
Behind them stood a cloaked figure.
A bounty hunter? Ruenen’s hand reached for the knife at his belt. But strangely, Marai smirked.
“I should have known you’d be sniffing around here.”
The cloaked figure glided towards them and pushed back the velvet hood, revealing crimson eyes and a pointed, gray-hued face.
“I’ve been trying to track you for weeks.” His mouth opened into a dangerous, fanged grin. “I’ve run up and down these highlands. Dul Tanen is the last place you were before your scents disappeared entirely, so you can imagine my surprise when I caught a whiff of you on the wind moments ago.”
Nosficio the vampire.
Ruenen didn’t drop his guard. He’d personally staked the vampire through the stomach at Iniquity, a dodgy town full of criminals, a few weeks ago. Since then, the vampire had taken an odd liking to Marai, and had helped them escape Tacorn soldiers. His fangs had grown back, and Ruenen cringed at the way his red eyes shimmered with want.
“Why are you tracking us?” he asked the ancient vampire.
Nosficio raised a single, elegantly shaped eyebrow. His dark dreadlocks were draped over his shoulder. “It’s lovely to see you, too, Prince,” he replied evenly. “A thank you would be nice, since it’s due to my assistance that the Butcher knew you had been taken by Tacorn.”
“We didn’t need your help,” Ruenen bit back.
The vampire’s face lit with interest as he took in Ruenen’s outstretched knife. “Then by all means, get captured again, and we’ll test your theory, Princeling.”
“That branch would make a nice stake, don’t you think, Nosficio?” Ruenen asked, letting an edge, a warning, into his tone. “And this time, I’ll aim for the kill.”
Marai rolled her eyes and removed her hand from Dimtoir.
The vampire smiled in his lethal, smooth way. His nostrils flared. “You’ve finally come into your powers, Lady Butcher. Have you stopped denying what you are?”
A smirk lengthened across Marai’s lips. Then Nosficio’s eyes flit to the bloodstone ring on Marai’s blackened fingers. It was the first time Ruenen had ever seen the vampire so caught off-guard.
“That ring. Where did you find it? And your fingers . . .”
