The Nightrender.
“I heard you’d come here,” Hanne said, keeping her tone light.
People all over Caberwill had been talking about the Nightrender, but none of their descriptions did her justice. She was tall—too tall—and sharp faced, with soot covering every part of her body. Black hair hung limp with dried sweat, charred at the ends and knotted beyond salvation. She was not pretty, Hanne decided, and it was far too easy to imagine what her parents would think if this creature walked into their throne room looking like some sort of carrion bird.
The Nightrender stared down at her for a moment. “I’m pleased you’re not dead.”
“How nice.”
“We’re all happy Princess Johanne is alive.” Rune came up and stood between them, looking suddenly uncomfortable.
The Nightrender hardly acknowledged him. “But there was no weak spot in the malsite.”
Anger coiled in Hanne’s stomach. How dare this creature speak to her in such a way? How had she even heard Hanne’s story?
“It doesn’t matter what you say,” Hanne said icily, “because one thing will always be true: I would never have been trapped if not for you.”
“Princess Johanne—” Rune snapped his mouth closed when she shot a look at him.
“You.” All the rage and terror of the last few weeks rose to the surface, clogging any sensible part of her that knew enough to fear the Red Dawn. Although now, after what she’d endured, she feared only one thing: the Dark Shard, and the threat of that was over. She had done what she needed to survive. “You should have cleared the malsites hundreds of years ago. You should have kept us safe from the rancor. And you should have protected us from the worst darkness our world has ever seen. But you failed. Not just with apathy or boredom, but with malice all of your own. You turned on the people you promised to protect and slaughtered hundreds. You are the monster.”
Stark, horrified silence rolled through the hallway. The monarchs had emerged from their office, followed by guards, and now they were all just waiting to see how the Nightrender would react.
She continued staring down at Hanne, her face completely without expression and her hands motionless at her sides. Then, softly, with no inflection whatsoever, she said, “How unfortunate I didn’t meet you before agreeing to rescue you.”
“You. Didn’t. Rescue. Me.” Hanne sidestepped and went on her way—toward the east wing where her cousin was being held.
They had a wedding to prepare for.
24.
NIGHTRENDER
“So.” Nightrender looked at Prince Rune, who watched the empty space where Princess Johanne had just stood. “This is the princess you were so eager to rescue.”
“She’s usually better behaved than that.” He smiled stiffly, like he didn’t quite believe the words himself, and then glanced at his parents. “Well, Mother. Father. As my fiancée is no longer dead, I’ll be getting married tomorrow. And the war is, of course, canceled.”
Nightrender hid a smile. This bold prince was a nice sight.
“No, we won’t be going to war with Embria, Elmali be praised.” The queen touched her heart as she said the name of Caberwill’s patron Numen. “Assuming, of course, you make it through the wedding.”
“Of course I will.” Prince Rune frowned. “I’ve done everything in my power to make this happen. I don’t know how she managed to survive a malsite, but I’m grateful. The alliance is back on. We can focus on the things that matter most.” The prince cast a meaningful look from his father to Nightrender and back.
“Ah, like your Dawnbreaker trials.” King Opus nodded slowly. “Perhaps the Crown Council will support you, once you’re married. Even Charity won’t be able to easily dissent.”
Prince Rune lowered his voice. “Perhaps you should stop appointing Duchess Wintersoft to the Crown Council, if you’re so often at odds.”
“You know we can’t,” Queen Grace muttered. “She has too much support.”
The king turned his attention to Nightrender. “So there has been more than one triumphant return today. I’m glad you’ve decided to come back.”
That was likely untrue, but Nightrender would work with what she had. “I’ve come to request—”
Prince Rune touched her arm. “Let me,” he said softly, just for her. “Tomorrow.”
He would have more power after tomorrow, with his position secured by marriage.
Nightrender nodded and turned back to the king. “I’ve come to request clean clothes while my armor mends itself.” Even now, she could feel the numinous fabric growing, stitching itself back together. It wasn’t uncomfortable to wear her armor while it mended, but it did tickle sometimes.
“Of course,” said the king. “I will have something sent to your quarters immediately.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, son,” the king said to Prince Rune, “I suppose you have a wedding to organize yourself for. You should see to it.”
The king and queen returned to their office. Prince Rune sighed and started down the hall.
“Tomorrow seems very quick for a wedding,” Nightrender observed.
“It’s not. It was the original date.” Prince Rune rubbed his temples. “The chefs will need to work overnight to get the food prepared, and none of the parties or balls scheduled for this week happened, but the guests are here, the Grand Temple has been decorated, and the bride is not actually dead. That’s as much as anyone can really ask for.”
“I am glad for you.” Nightrender pressed her lips into a line and veered toward the tower that held her quarters. Perhaps, in addition to clean clothes, she could have a bath. Perhaps that food cart was waiting for her….
Prince Rune turned toward the tower with her. “I’m sorry about what she said to you. I was in the malsite only briefly, while she was trapped in there for days. Longer, for her. That kind of trauma would make anyone snappish.”
“There’s no need to apologize.” Nightrender tightened her wings as she started up the stairs, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t carry to every corner of Honor’s Keep. “She was correct about my failures, this awakening and the last.”
Especially if a rancor king truly was involved somehow. If she hadn’t sent him back to the Dark Shard before.
The dream flashed back into her mind, a castle in the Malice, twin thrones in the center of a huge chamber. Why build a castle if not for a king?
Fingers brushed her arm, tightened, and she halted. Prince Rune stepped around and squeezed onto the stair with her. In the dimness of the stairwell, his eyes were warm and brown, and his gaze was soft as he looked at her. “Princess Johanne was cruel to you. It’s all right to admit that.”