The Blood of Darkness

Chapter 70

I'm back :)
Sorry this chapter is so short (only 4000 words) after you've waited for so long but to be honest I wrote this over the past two days (I just got back from my vacation) so I really did try to be fast for you all. After this chapter, there will only be Chapter 71 left for me to write and the epilogue. Next chapter (71) will be in Val's POV and probably relatively short like this one. The epilogue will be a bit longer and (in my opinion) pretty exciting. As always, thank you for reading <3

Vance

"Get up."

Consciousness begins to filter back in. Gradually. My mind is hazy, oblivion drifting farther and farther out of reach with every slow passing second.

Val's hand curling around my shoulder, gently shaking me. Her soft, tired smile, the stars glimmering outside the window behind her, the pile of blankets soft beneath us. We're in the Northern Tower, the highest one that always makes it seem like we can reach out the window and take the stars in our hands if we want to. "Get up. Come on, Vance. We should get back to our rooms. It's late. Zeke is probably wondering where you are."

I grab a pillow and press it to my face. "Can't we just stay here for the night?"

Val covers her mouth with her hand and widens her eyes. "And have the servants catch us here in the morning, clearly having slept together? That would be absolutely scandalous! Imagine the rumors!"

I grin, sitting up and throwing the pillow at her. "What would that one guard you're into think?"

She catches it and throws it back at me. "How many times do I have to tell you? Jordan and I are just friends!"

"That's what I told you about Zeke and I when we first met," I point out.

She laughs. It's one of my favorite sounds because I don't get to hear it that often. "Unlike you, I'm not a liar."

I press a hand to my chest, pretending to be dismayed. "What did you just call me?"

A rough kick to my side sends pain crashing through me. "Get up."

Reality crashes back, memories dissolving before my eyes. I want to reach out and grab them, tuck them into my heart so I can pull them out when I please.

Flashes of clarity: My knife. Buried in the Dark King's chest. His smile. The wound closing in on itself.

Horror.

I'm lying face-down on the cold floor of my cell, hurting everywhere from the beating I took, and there's a guard pulling at my wrists, forcing me up into a standing position.

I can hardly breathe; dried blood cakes my face, my lips. My head aches; I have the desperate need for water. I know I will get none.

How much more of this can I take?

"What," I rasp to the guard as he shoves me out of my cell, so hard that my knees nearly buckle and send me crashing to the ground, "What happened?"

I am terrified. Because what the Dark King told me however long ago, his wretched plan—

"Unloading and escorting prisoners," the guard tells me gruffly, checking the tightness of the Lychnus cuffs locked around each of my wrists.

I decide to be stupidly ignorant because I can't accept this, I just can't. I'm about to be destroyed and all I want is mercy. "Prisoners from where?"

He flashes me a cruel, toothy grin. "Trivette, of course."

It's like a physical blow. Something inside me splinters, cracks in half, because part of me really thought, really thought that there was hope. If Trivette and Asilo had joined forces, then maybe...maybe Rurik could have been defeated.