Marai wiggled her fingers and the ring at Nosficio. “The ring called to me. I’ve had it for years.”
Nosficio’s gaze never left the jasper ring. “That ring belonged to Queen Meallán.”
“You knew her?”
Nosficio nodded once. The ancient vampire’s face shuttered, blocking emotions he didn’t want them to see. “She was a powerful queen. A very impressive being.”
Ruenen saw it then in Nosficio’s face: sorrow. Regret. Years and years of it. An ageless being forever burdened with the loss of one he held dear.
Nosficio’s demeanor shifted as his back straightened, chin jutted forward, and the sorrow was washed from his face. “Your voluntary presence in Kellesar can mean one thing: the princeling has decided to claim his throne. Which further means that the war between Nevandia and Tacorn will soon begin escalating.”
“Why do you care?” Marai crossed her arms.
“We discussed this before. Rayghast is using magic he shouldn’t. He’s corrupting this land, and creating creatures of darkness.”
Ruenen scowled. “What creatures?”
Nosficio turned crimson eyes to him. “I’ve seen them. Beasts unlike anything else on this continent, sprouting up like weeds from the ground every time the King of Tacorn uses his magic.”
“You’ve been watching them?” Marai asked.
“I wasn’t merely sitting around, waiting for you to return to the Red Lands. I was tracking the scent of one nearby; that’s how I was able to find you two so quickly.” Nosficio smirked. “This continent has been my home for centuries. I won’t let it get destroyed by a human who shouldn’t be able to use magic. I want to see Rayghast dead.” His eyes blazed with fire on that final word. “He’s killed dozens of vampires in his lifetime, and his father was no better. Not to mention all the other magical lives he’s taken. He deserves to die for those crimes.”
Marai cocked her head in that bird-like way. “I thought you didn’t care about what happened to anyone but yourself.”
“On the contrary, my dear Butcher,” said Nosficio, “I cannot speak for my brethren, but I care deeply about Astye.”
Ruenen scoffed. “You’ve killed just as many humans as Rayghast has killed magical folk.”
Before Ruenen could blink, Nosficio disappeared, then reappeared in front of Ruenen, as if he’d been a mirage. His face was so close that Ruenen could smell the blood on the vampire’s breath.
“There’s a difference, boy, between killing by choice and killing from necessity. I was created this way. I cannot change what I am, how I feed, and what bloodlust does to me. Don’t presume to understand the cravings of a vampire and the complexities of our long lives.”
Marai shoved Nosficio backwards. He was far stronger than her, but the vampire let her move him easily. Marai’s hand returned to Dimtoir’s handle.
“Rayghast chooses to take lives, human and creature alike. He chooses to reach into the darkness, like a true monster who doesn’t have a heart,” said Nosficio. “Forgive me if I still hold on to some human sentiments.”
“You want to help us defeat Rayghast?” Marai frowned.
Nosficio gave one slow nod.
“And what help can you possibly provide?”
“The first is obvious: I can fight. I’m far stronger than you and your prince. And you’ll need me to help with these creatures of darkness. They’re traveling out of the forests and into villages. I also know this continent better than anyone alive. Better than you, Butcher. I know the ins and outs of many kingdoms. I have acquaintances everywhere.”
Ruenen waved his hands, suddenly overwhelmed. “Wait, wait, hold on! I haven’t even taken the throne yet. We don’t know if Nevandia will accept me as their king. It’s going to be hard enough to get them to trust me, but add on the fact that I’m bringing a half-fae mercenary into their castle, I don’t think Nevandians will take too kindly to me waltzing in with a vampire on my arm, as well.”
“You don’t want my help?” Nosficio asked, lifting his chin haughtily. “A foolish decision for a young, inexperienced prince.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want your aid,” said Ruenen, “but I don’t think right now is the time. Let me get established first. Let me win their trust. Then, Nosficio, I will grant you your revenge on Rayghast.”
“Get in line,” Marai murmured.
“I suppose there’s logic in that. Fine. I’ll wait here until you return, Princeling,” said Nosficio with a slight incline of his head to Ruenen. “In the meantime, I shall continue my surveillance on the creatures. I’m looking forward to joining forces with you, Butcher. I cannot wait to see what you’re capable of.” He showed off those fangs again and disappeared with a gust of wind.
Ruenen turned to Marai, feeling weak in the knees and lightheaded. “Things are going too fast for my comfort.”
Marai adjusted her hood and clothing, then stepped to Ruenen’s side. She tugged at his leather vest, fixing the collar, then brushed a dead leaf from his shoulder. Ruenen blushed at the intimacy.
“Do you trust him? Nosficio?” he asked, following the movements of her hands on his body.
Marai lifted those vibrant eyes to his and Ruenen’s face grew hotter.
“I trust his knowledge. I trust his anger at Rayghast. But do I trust him? No. We will always need to stay on our guard around him.”
Ruenen and Marai observed Kellesar, the once magnificent city that had rivaled Kaishiki, Lirrstrass, and Chiojan. The brown, infertile highlands were so desolate at a time of year when the land should begin bursting with greens and lilacs of the heather. Nearby farmlands were void of crops. The Nydian River, usually so blue, weaved unimpressively through the hilly landscape, carrying mud and clay around the city. Ruenen’s heart ached. This was his land, his kingdom, and it was dying.
The castle of Kellesar was perched at the top of the hill, surrounded by tall, thick stone walls. Its spires rose like beacons of beauty amongst the floundering land. Monk Nori had told young Ruenen that the Kellesar castle was the most beautiful in all nine kingdoms, with moonstone marble and granite shaped into intricate carvings, engravings, and buttresses. Pristine. A symbol of status. The stone wasn’t native to the highlands; it had cost a fortune to transport the materials from elsewhere in Nevandia.
But the white stone, like the highlands, had lost its color. It was dirty, derelict, even from a distance. The castle was intact, but it appeared disappointing to Ruenen, who had the glorious image Nori had told him in his mind.
If I succeed, Nori, I’ll return it to its original splendor, Ruenen vowed to the monk.
“Are you ready?” Marai asked.
Ruenen swallowed and nodded. He would never be ready for this moment. “Are we going to walk up to the front door?”
“Oh, yes, and we’re not going to be quiet about it,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
