Sold to the Night Lord - Chapter 72: Chapter 72
You are reading Sold to the Night Lord, Chapter 72: Chapter 72. Read more chapters of Sold to the Night Lord.
What a ridiculous thought.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement in the gardens and spot Elara holding her little sister’s hand. Both have their faces tilted toward the sun, eyes closed, small smiles on their lips. I remain there, frozen, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene. And when Elara looks at her sister, unaware the girl is watching, I see love in its rawest form. My insides twist, and I don’t know if it’s from guilt or longing.
I place the glass back on the desk and leave the office, at first unaware of where I’m headed—until I find myself knocking on a door with my knuckles. I wait to be let in, using that time to regain my composure and put on my mask of indifference. The golden eyes of Elara’s brother open wide when he sees me at his door.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, hesitant.
I don’t wait for him to invite me in. I don’t need it—this room is as much mine as the rest, and I don’t ask for permission with what belongs to me. He steps aside as if I carried the bubonic plague when he senses my intent.
I walk away from him, moving toward the window while he clutches the door and refuses to move from it.
“I think the real question is, what’s wrong with you?”
I make a massive effort to control the tone of my voice. It bothers me more than I expected, having heard Elara’s pained voice while she spoke to her brother. It’s not that I’m nosy—it’s just that my hearing is difficult to control, no matter how hard I try to ignore all the noise.
“What’s supposed to be wrong with me?”
I arch an eyebrow at him arrogantly.
“Your name is Silas, right?” He nods. “Good, Silas. Let me be clear. You didn’t make a great impression when you arrived, but there’s something I don’t tolerate—and that’s people upsetting my bloodmaids. Did you know their mood affects the taste of their blood? No, of course not. Why would a human know something important to a monster like me?”
I’m not being entirely honest, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I granted you a tremendous gift by allowing you to visit Elara. I’m very aware you didn’t have the chance to see her again once she entered the Red Auction—and even though this isn’t customary, I allowed it. Don’t push your luck, boy.”
Silas lets out a huff and looks at me with skeptical eyes.
"Are you sure it’s the taste of her blood that matters to you?"
My ears catch the sound of his skin tightening over clenched fists, knuckles turning white.
"I won’t deny your sister’s beauty; however, don’t insult me like that. I have plenty of others at my disposal—more willing and less fragile."
Strangely enough, I don’t really want to belittle Elara, but it seems I have no other choice when it comes to her brother. The truth is, Elara has slipped into the cracks of my thoughts and I’m not very interested in other bloodmaids. It’s been a while since I demanded blood from another, and it’s making me constantly thirsty. It’s not like the little wildcat has been particularly cooperative either. She’s killing me with thirst, and the small sips she allows me aren’t enough for someone insatiable.
"What do you want?"
I move toward him decisively.
"I want you, before you leave tomorrow, to fix whatever you’ve broken inside her." My eyes lock on his like daggers, like I could wound him with a glance.
"I didn’t allow you to come here just to fuck with me—and that’s exactly what you’re doing, little mortal."
"Careful, Lord Draven, you might make it seem like the rumors are true."
I smirk, and in the blink of an eye, I grip his throat and slam him against the wall next to the door. I bring my face close enough that my breath brushes against his skin. Some twisted part of me would enjoy knowing her taste still clings to my mouth.
"Careful, little Ruggiero, anyone might think this isn’t brotherly concern, but something much more perverse. Maybe I’m not the only repugnant thing in this castle right now."
His nostrils flare as anger boils inside him.
I release my grip one finger at a time, satisfied to see the redness on his neck—and even more so when I see him gasp for air.
"I hope I made myself clear." I let the threat soak my voice.
"If not, know this: the distance to Sunnyside won’t be enough to keep me from coming for you. I don’t like my investments being damaged."
The word tastes bitter in my mouth. I ignore it and leave the room, making sure the door slams shut behind me. Without thinking, my feet guide me wherever they feel compelled to go. I head outside, wandering the gardens, careful not to cross paths directly with Elara and her sister. I search for a way to watch her without being seen.
"Do you like it here?" asks the little Ruggiero girl.
A silence stretches longer than expected. I’m surprised to realize I want to know the answer.
"It’s a beautiful place, don’t you think?" says Elara. "These gardens are magnificent, and my maids are really kind people, wonderful friends."
—I hold my breath, thinking she won’t give a real answer—
"Keep it secret, Abigail, but I think I’m starting to like this place."
"Wouldn’t you go back to Sunnyside?"
"Of course I would," she replies immediately. "But that’s not possible, little sister. So this place isn’t bad, is it? I think I can manage to live here."
“Of course you will. This is your place, your destiny.”
I don’t recognize the voice whispered through the air—and it seems I’m not the only one who hears it. Elara immediately straightens, and before she turns her head and catches me watching them, I disappear from her line of sight. She looks around in all directions, searching for the source of those words. I end up doing the same, searching with little success—until Drystan finds me hidden behind massive hedges.
"The air smells different," he says with a mocking tone. "Things are changing, Cassian."
I sigh and close my eyes, very aware that I can’t hide much from my right hand and closest friend.
"Yes, they are changing—and I don’t know if I like it."
"I’d say you do. A lot."
I scoff low enough that Elara’s human ears won’t catch it, but loud enough for Drystan to get the message. He doesn’t say anything else, and we both remain silent as we lift our faces toward the sun. I know Drystan enjoys this more than I do, which is why I gave him the task of watching over Elara during the day. I’m not used to enjoying the sun, and though my condition allows it, for some reason, I’ve forced myself to live a life of shadows, darkness, and night.
And now there’s a point of light in this castle—someone who makes me want to admire the sun—and I don’t know if that thrills me or terrifies me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement in the gardens and spot Elara holding her little sister’s hand. Both have their faces tilted toward the sun, eyes closed, small smiles on their lips. I remain there, frozen, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene. And when Elara looks at her sister, unaware the girl is watching, I see love in its rawest form. My insides twist, and I don’t know if it’s from guilt or longing.
I place the glass back on the desk and leave the office, at first unaware of where I’m headed—until I find myself knocking on a door with my knuckles. I wait to be let in, using that time to regain my composure and put on my mask of indifference. The golden eyes of Elara’s brother open wide when he sees me at his door.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, hesitant.
I don’t wait for him to invite me in. I don’t need it—this room is as much mine as the rest, and I don’t ask for permission with what belongs to me. He steps aside as if I carried the bubonic plague when he senses my intent.
I walk away from him, moving toward the window while he clutches the door and refuses to move from it.
“I think the real question is, what’s wrong with you?”
I make a massive effort to control the tone of my voice. It bothers me more than I expected, having heard Elara’s pained voice while she spoke to her brother. It’s not that I’m nosy—it’s just that my hearing is difficult to control, no matter how hard I try to ignore all the noise.
“What’s supposed to be wrong with me?”
I arch an eyebrow at him arrogantly.
“Your name is Silas, right?” He nods. “Good, Silas. Let me be clear. You didn’t make a great impression when you arrived, but there’s something I don’t tolerate—and that’s people upsetting my bloodmaids. Did you know their mood affects the taste of their blood? No, of course not. Why would a human know something important to a monster like me?”
I’m not being entirely honest, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I granted you a tremendous gift by allowing you to visit Elara. I’m very aware you didn’t have the chance to see her again once she entered the Red Auction—and even though this isn’t customary, I allowed it. Don’t push your luck, boy.”
Silas lets out a huff and looks at me with skeptical eyes.
"Are you sure it’s the taste of her blood that matters to you?"
My ears catch the sound of his skin tightening over clenched fists, knuckles turning white.
"I won’t deny your sister’s beauty; however, don’t insult me like that. I have plenty of others at my disposal—more willing and less fragile."
Strangely enough, I don’t really want to belittle Elara, but it seems I have no other choice when it comes to her brother. The truth is, Elara has slipped into the cracks of my thoughts and I’m not very interested in other bloodmaids. It’s been a while since I demanded blood from another, and it’s making me constantly thirsty. It’s not like the little wildcat has been particularly cooperative either. She’s killing me with thirst, and the small sips she allows me aren’t enough for someone insatiable.
"What do you want?"
I move toward him decisively.
"I want you, before you leave tomorrow, to fix whatever you’ve broken inside her." My eyes lock on his like daggers, like I could wound him with a glance.
"I didn’t allow you to come here just to fuck with me—and that’s exactly what you’re doing, little mortal."
"Careful, Lord Draven, you might make it seem like the rumors are true."
I smirk, and in the blink of an eye, I grip his throat and slam him against the wall next to the door. I bring my face close enough that my breath brushes against his skin. Some twisted part of me would enjoy knowing her taste still clings to my mouth.
"Careful, little Ruggiero, anyone might think this isn’t brotherly concern, but something much more perverse. Maybe I’m not the only repugnant thing in this castle right now."
His nostrils flare as anger boils inside him.
I release my grip one finger at a time, satisfied to see the redness on his neck—and even more so when I see him gasp for air.
"I hope I made myself clear." I let the threat soak my voice.
"If not, know this: the distance to Sunnyside won’t be enough to keep me from coming for you. I don’t like my investments being damaged."
The word tastes bitter in my mouth. I ignore it and leave the room, making sure the door slams shut behind me. Without thinking, my feet guide me wherever they feel compelled to go. I head outside, wandering the gardens, careful not to cross paths directly with Elara and her sister. I search for a way to watch her without being seen.
"Do you like it here?" asks the little Ruggiero girl.
A silence stretches longer than expected. I’m surprised to realize I want to know the answer.
"It’s a beautiful place, don’t you think?" says Elara. "These gardens are magnificent, and my maids are really kind people, wonderful friends."
—I hold my breath, thinking she won’t give a real answer—
"Keep it secret, Abigail, but I think I’m starting to like this place."
"Wouldn’t you go back to Sunnyside?"
"Of course I would," she replies immediately. "But that’s not possible, little sister. So this place isn’t bad, is it? I think I can manage to live here."
“Of course you will. This is your place, your destiny.”
I don’t recognize the voice whispered through the air—and it seems I’m not the only one who hears it. Elara immediately straightens, and before she turns her head and catches me watching them, I disappear from her line of sight. She looks around in all directions, searching for the source of those words. I end up doing the same, searching with little success—until Drystan finds me hidden behind massive hedges.
"The air smells different," he says with a mocking tone. "Things are changing, Cassian."
I sigh and close my eyes, very aware that I can’t hide much from my right hand and closest friend.
"Yes, they are changing—and I don’t know if I like it."
"I’d say you do. A lot."
I scoff low enough that Elara’s human ears won’t catch it, but loud enough for Drystan to get the message. He doesn’t say anything else, and we both remain silent as we lift our faces toward the sun. I know Drystan enjoys this more than I do, which is why I gave him the task of watching over Elara during the day. I’m not used to enjoying the sun, and though my condition allows it, for some reason, I’ve forced myself to live a life of shadows, darkness, and night.
And now there’s a point of light in this castle—someone who makes me want to admire the sun—and I don’t know if that thrills me or terrifies me.
End of Sold to the Night Lord Chapter 72. Continue reading Chapter 73 or return to Sold to the Night Lord book page.