The Stars are Dying : (Nytefall: Book 1)
The Stars are Dying: Chapter 36

I stood outside The Poison Garden with an eerie reluctance to step past the tall, ornate iron gates. They were open, but there was nothing of invitation in the outdoor scene entirely shrouded in black. Not the kind of decay; this was one of beautiful death.

With a deep breath, I strolled in with the hairs all over my body rising at the sense of something sinister. It was so silent, no other bodies to be found. All that disturbed the quiet was the faint crunch of the frost under my boots. I was somewhat expecting a creature like the Crocotta to greet me. Nyte had yet to show at all despite our deal, and I wondered if I was succeeding in blocking him out, reluctant to face him after the cunning trick he’d pulled.

A garden was a fitting term for the decoration around the stone maze path, only this garden was like nothing I had seen before. I thought I recognized some of the flowers, but they bloomed a stark, unnatural black.

My gaze trailed up the dark timber of a tree, finding gleaming black apples that made me want to itch the impulse to reach for one. A butterfly that almost glowed with a trail of gold against the gloomy background flew close to a low-hanging apple. I watched its beauty as it landed, but my awe was smothered when it tensed and shuddered until the blackness from the apple seeped over it and it turned to dark dust that caught on the winter wind.

My face fell in sorrow at what should have been an insignificant death. But I couldn’t help but to think the insect was part of a far bigger story.

“I was looking for you yesterday,” Drystan said, encroaching on my silence.

I hadn’t expected his intrusion out here. With everything I’d learned, I couldn’t help my new coating of unease around him. He could turn on me as the notorious name he carried the moment he discovered I knew of it.

“Oh? I was training, then I took a walk, then I joined Zath in his rooms for supper, then—”

Drystan cut off my rambling. “He’s very protective of you.”

I swallowed, reading his hint of a question. “He’s like the older brother I never had.”

“Hmm.” Drystan reached up.

“Wait—!”

He plucked the apple carelessly, and I gaped at the black fruit in his gloved hand. Was that enough protection from the poison? Drystan revealed two pointed teeth with wicked delight at my reaction, then he brought the apple to his mouth.

I jerked to stop him on instinct, my hand just shy of brazenly grabbing him when his teeth sank into the ripe flesh. My breaths came hard as I watched him tear out a large bite, waiting on a razor’s edge for him to choke and splutter to the ground.

He simply chewed.

I blinked from his hand to his face, but nothing happened. The apple remained black, though inside was an ordinary, glistening pale yellow-white.

“I didn’t know you held such regard for me,” Drystan said casually, tossing and catching the apple. “I’m touched.” He stepped closer.

Too close.

“Try it.”

I shook my head, but it didn’t seem like he would accept that. “What are you—?”

An arm slipped around me, bringing our bodies flush, and my blood roared against it. I tried to strain, but his grip was firm. His other hand held up the dark apple, and I balked at the proximity of the false allurement. I didn’t know how he ate it with no affliction, but everything in me was screaming it would not have the same mercy on me.

“Just one taste,” he said with a low, seductive edge.

My lips parted, almost willing to oblige if it would get him to release me. I almost closed my eyes as the apple came close enough to bite, until it slipped from his hand, and instead his mouth came down on mine.

Wide-eyed, I braced flattened palms against his chest. Drystan held me for a few more long, torturous seconds before yielding to my push.

My hand rose to my mouth in utter shock at what he’d done. Then he laughed.

Anger boiled in me, and I spun to him with a deadly glare, uncaring if it was Nightsdeath instead of Drystan I saw after he’d made such a deplorable mockery of me.

It was neither.

The last of the prince’s form caught as black smoke in the wind, and I stumbled at the sight of it.

A trick.

Drystan hadn’t been here at all.

On the ground lay the apple. Missing one bite.

I shook my head to pass a wave of dizziness. A bitter, ashy taste filled my mouth, and I pulled off my glove to raise a hand to my lips. “Shit,” I breathed, smudging the black soot-like substance between my fingers. It was poisonous. My mind had been played with to have eaten it.

The trial’s timer was now set with the need to find the antidote.

I focused on my steps, my breathing. Why did it have to act so damn fast? I thought the stark roses were crying. Soft wails carried through me, and I mourned with them, not knowing what for, but I became so weighted with sadness. Their vines grew, reaching to share their condolences, and I leaned toward them.

“They are beautiful,” the ghost of Drystan observed with me. “The black rose blooms when death lingers near.”

The first scratch pierced my skin. I gasped, snapping out of the illusion to stumble back, and their sorrow turned to merriment, so overwhelming and eerie it cut through me.

I broke into a run away from them.

At least I tried to. Fatigue turned my shoes to lead instead, until lifting one foot in front of the other became a heavy burden. I almost gave in to the wobble of my knees until I came across a bench.

I needed to rest. Just for a moment.

My breath frosted the air desperately as I slumped down. I rubbed my eyes, trying to rally some focus. I couldn’t fall asleep. I had to find the antidote.

“Something made from the same place,” I thought out loud through a labored breath. I tried to calculate. “Another plant.”

Movement caught at the edge of my vision, and I leaned back, jerking away from the long black stalk that grew from the bush beside me, thinking the roses had followed me.

Until it stopped reaching. A black flower bloomed magnificently, more like a lily of death. I blinked as though the illusion would vanish or turn into another cruel trick. It stayed still except for a flicker dangling from the top of the stem.

I reached for the dark paper tentatively, reading one word:

I was not about to trust that.

Groaning, I massaged the dull ache forming in my head. I scanned the three letters carefully, but their placement was off. The “T” sat highest, then the “e” slightly slower, and then “a” a further fraction below. My final observation was to wonder why the “e” and “a” were in small letters while the “T” was uppercase.

Seconds ticked by.

My mind rearranged the letters. Then my brow relaxed, and a small smile curved my mouth.

“Tea,” I said to no one.

I swallowed hard, conjuring what might have happened if I’d eaten it as the instruction prompted at first glance. Making tea, however, must be a way of canceling out whatever poisonous effects the apple had.

Down the path I spied a quaint hut. With nothing to lose, I plucked the flower and sluggishly headed for it.

My first knock made the door creak open, and I slowly eased myself inside. “Hello?” I called out, but from the rundown interior I figured it to be long abandoned.

The floorboards groaned under my weight as I wandered over to a small kitchen area. No place for running water. I had to pause and stop myself from cursing the gods for their sadistic humor. To add insult, the firepit mocked me as I slumped before it. I tossed some of the piled wood into the dark space.

“You’ll want to add the dried leaves and moss.”

My teeth clenched at the sound of Nyte’s irritating voice. “I can figure it out for myself,” I grumbled.

He was the last person I wanted to see.

“You might have to come back to this tomorrow to make it back before twilight.”

“In case you haven’t noticed…”—I winced at the ache in my muscles—“that’s not really an option this time.”

“You’ll be fine if you take the flower back to the castle. Try again tomorrow.”

“Not going to happen,” I said, barely a wheeze as I tossed the final log onto the pile. “I want these trials to be over, and I’m getting a damned key piece if I have to sleep here.”

“You need to be back tonight—”

“Then command me,” I bit out, finally turning to cast him a glower.

He didn’t ease his hard frown that looked prepared to fight me on the matter. “I won’t do that.”

“Then why add the condition to the bargain at all?”

“To protect you.”

I scoffed, my smile pure bitter resentment. “You don’t do anything unless it is to your benefit.”

Nyte crouched slowly, sparking a hint of challenge in those molten eyes. “My benefit and my desire are that you stay alive.”

I stuffed dried leaves into the firepit, trying to ignore him.

“Good. Now use your dagger to carve out a small wedge in the log and grab that stick.”

My petty side didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of obeying, but time wasn’t my luxury. At Nyte’s instruction I was up on my knees, braced and trying to roll the stick between my hands to create a spark. I whimpered pathetically on my fifth try, finding it far more labor-intensive than it looked.

“Don’t stop—you almost have it,” Nyte encouraged.

When the first glow of amber against the darkness ignited, I could have cried with joy. Then, after a few more tries, a flame sparked to life. I continued to follow Nyte’s guidance, gathering the leaves and gently blowing until it caught on the wood.

I smiled with relief at the fire that licked across the tinder, growing like a precious heartbeat. I was transfixed. Nyte remained silent, and when I turned I found him watching me with a softness I didn’t want to see. The kind that stole all past tension just for a moment.

“There’s a water pump outside,” he said gently.

I wished he wouldn’t look at me like the helpless person I was right now.

It took the last out of me to return with a crooked pot of water. I set it over the fire thinking I wouldn’t make it to standing again. The heat of the fire enveloped me, further dragging on my consciousness. My eyes fluttered as I watched the blazing tango.

Nyte sat beside me, one knee bent with his arm resting over it, while the other he angled flat and propped himself up with one hand. So casual and beautiful. My gut sank.

“What will you do when you’re free?” I asked quietly, setting aside our animosity for a moment.

The flames danced across his thoughtful features as he stared through them. “I’ve had a long time to think of what I’ll do,” he said, not meeting my gaze. “It’s recently come with some reassessment, and I’m not entirely sure where to start.”

I shuddered. He spoke as if he held many promises to fulfill. Someone had wronged him truly, perhaps several people, and I would be the one to unleash their looming fate.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” I admitted.

He slipped his golden gaze to me, and it was alive with the flames marching in them. “How is that going for you?”

“I think you’re afraid.”

“I have little to fear.”

“Except yourself.”

A breath of silence. Then his mouth curved a fraction. “You fear what I might be capable of,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“You like people to fear you.”

“I need people to fear me,” he corrected. “It is an easy feat. Once I touch someone’s fear, I can destroy them with it. One thought from me, and they would bend to my mercy.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered. My lids grew so heavy I had to close them.

His answer came in the form of a growing energy. I felt him as though he’d snuck up behind me, and with my neck inclined in my sleepy, delirious state I believed the warm lick of the flames was his breath across my skin.

“I fear myself sometimes,” I said.

A phantom hand tipped my hair away for his words to purr close to my ear. “Tell me.”

I shouldn’t want his touch. Yet I craved it.

“One time I wandered through a part of Hektor’s manor I shouldn’t have. Many places were off-limits, but I was curious, and he was out of town. It happened to be a private lounge for Hektor’s highest-ranked men. I was found by one of them, and though he knew who I was and how his life would be forfeited if I spoke, he was confident enough that I wouldn’t speak out for risk of Hektor’s wrath if he discovered I’d left my rooms while he was gone. The man was huge, and I was so scared I didn’t know how I would escape. He tried to force himself on me—” I had to pause, not at the recollection but the waves of anger that washed over me, so raw and shadowy that for a moment I regretted sharing the story for Nyte’s reaction.

“You can tell me anything,” he said. I had never heard his tone so restrained. “Add the petals.”

I nodded heavily. Sweat slicked my skin.

The black petals gave off a hiss when they touched the water, like a cat priming to strike, and my heart galloped. They shrank, dissolving into a mist that one by one turned the water dark.

“I had my dagger,” I continued. “And until then I never truly believed I had what it takes to wield it. Even now I hardly remember the slice across his throat, nor the several wounds in his chest he was said to be found with. All I remember is my blood-splattered reflection and the dark, sinister way I was exhilarated by what I’d done. Not only that, but I knew I had to clean myself up to get rid of any trace that could relate his death back to me. Yet for a long moment, I didn’t want to. I wanted Hektor to find me that way. Blood-soaked and near savage, I wanted him to see what I was capable of. Not his weak little pet. Not deserving of a cage, with or without bars. Because I could do the same to him.”

At Nyte’s stillness my head turned. The light graze of his hand across my cheek pinched my brow.

“You are perfect.”

With three words he set me free. Maybe I shouldn’t have found comfort in being his kind of perfect—something of danger and unpredictability—but I didn’t want to be anything else. Our darknesses touched, understood each other, and the only thing that frightened me was how content I became.

My head slumped, and I cursed the tightening of my throat as the spell of sleep overcame me.

“The tea, Starlight,” he said as though pained he couldn’t truly aid me.

I thought I nodded, though I couldn’t be certain when I could barely reach out to wrap a cloth around the pot handle. My hand shook the boiling water dangerously, but I managed to pour enough into the cup.

“This is safe?” I asked with blurred vision, hoping the black water was a mistake.

“It won’t taste pleasant, but yes. And if you’re still wondering, the plant would have killed you if you’d consumed it raw.”

It wasn’t the right moment to tell me that; now I was overcome with the notion I hadn’t boiled it for long enough and it could still be deadly.

“Your time is running out,” Nyte urged.

I took a deep breath, letting it blow over the cup to cool its surface before I took a sip. Cringing, I pulled away, coughing at the bitter taste of ash and water.

“You have to drink it all.” Nyte was behind me again, bringing a hand under mine to coax the cup back to my lips.

I tried to shake my head, but the cup reached my mouth and I drank again. I gagged, but Nyte’s hand remained there, determined to make me drink it all despite the water pooling in the corners of my eyes.

It burned, and I wanted to vomit with every gulp I took.

“That’s it,” he soothed, his voice becoming distant.

The last drop sliced my throat, and I panted. The cup dropped, shattering as my hand caught me from falling, but the world was spinning.

“Lie down.”

I didn’t have a choice when my arm gave out and I fell.

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