The Art of Blood and Power (Book 2 in The Gifted Trilogy)

Prologue

One of the perks of being the King of the Shadow Court was that nobody asked questions when you were absent for days at a time.

It was when that time turned into a week, then several weeks, then an entire month, that the problems started to arise.

Nox had always hated dealing with the nobles of his court. It was a festering hive of pompous weaklings whose very existence and self-aggrandizing nature was reliant on the claim that, centuries ago, their ancestors had licked the boots of the original Shadow Gifted, Nox's ancestor.

If he could wipe them all out he would, but his father had taught him early on when he was still a child that there were times where he would have to suffer fools in order to get what he wanted.

It was one of many lessons his father delegated towards him. That was one of the easier lessons.

The harder ones, well, Nox still had the marks to remember those lessons.

"You've stopped listening to me, haven't you?" Lux ripped him from his train of thought. He was tending to the marks on Nox's neck, refusing to stop his healing attempts despite the fact that his abilities had brought no progress in weeks to removing the color of the dark black veins that littered Nox's lower face.

In all honesty, it was hard to concentrate on anything Lux said when he stood so close. Nox had long since resorted to thinking about something else, anything other than the softness of Lux's fingers as he grazed Nox's neck and the hint of cinnamon that always seemed to linger on his breath.

"You were rambling about the economy again, I presume?" Nox drawled, humor tinting his words. Lux was the only person Nox still felt comfortable making a joke around.

And the feeling was mutual, as Lux rolled his eyes and pulled his hands away from Nox's face, giving up for today. Nox felt the twinge of disappointment as his cheeks felt suddenly colder without Lux close. "In a way, yes," he admitted. "I know it's a pastime of yours to pretend that money is a feeble thing that doesn't matter in comparison to our power and title, but your Court does need trading in order to remain stable. Without your trading ports open, it's a slippery slope to political unrest."

Nox snorted. Political unrest. It was hard for him to imagine being threatened by the presence of a crowd of non-Gifted people at his gates. When he tried to imagine it in his head, it was all shaking fists and demands for more bread. As if mindless cries were any sort of challenge to what he could do.

Lux shook his head at Nox's reaction, turning towards his medical kit in order to hide his face. Nox knew what that meant. Lux was trying to hide his disappointment, his annoyance at Nox refusing to take his words seriously.

Nox immediately regretted his response. If it were anyone else, Nox would've just laughed in their face and told them to get the hell out of his palace. He didn't need them. He didn't need anyone.

That is, anyone but his oldest, and truthfully, his only friend.

"It's not that I don't agree with you," Nox continued in an attempt to explain himself to the only person whose opinion of him mattered. "It's just, I can't. I can't bring myself to do it."

"Why?" Lux asked, stepping forward so that Nox couldn't avoid meeting his warm eyes. Panic rose in him as it always did when Lux tried to get too close. Nox was constantly worried that one wrong move, one extra second spent staring at Lux's cherry lips or one touch that rested a little longer than it needed to on his bare skin, and he would know the truth.

Nox swallowed hard. "Because then I'm letting people into my Court whom I don't trust. Then, there is an infiltration of strangers in my kingdom and one of them..."

One of them could be her. The one who did this to his face. The one who showed him no mercy as she brought him an inch away from the curtain of death, so close to the other side that he swore he could've heard the voices of his fallen enemies, their hands reaching from beyond death to grab and drag him to the other side.

And the only thing that had saved him from that fate had been Lux's quick thinking. Not the practically insurmountable power of his shadows. Not the ruthless intellect he'd always taken pride in. In the end, he had been worse than powerless.

He had been worthless.

It had taken days afterwards for Nox to even speak, to come to terms with what had happened. In the end, he learned a very important lesson that day. He was still a mortal, and he could still be killed.

Nox refused to ever be reminded of that human fragility again. So he closed off his trading borders. He stopped showing his face around the palace and stopped attending the gatherings and parties thrown by the nobles. He was always on high alert, suspecting anyone of being a potential enemy. That was how he remained alive. But mostly, that was how he bought himself time.

Because while he was fearful and suspecting, one emotion burned even brighter than those. He was furious. Furious that a nobody from a village he had never heard of before was able to get the upper-hand over him. Furious that, with the help of that useless Kesserian Cinis, she was able to shove darkness, Nox's own power that he'd always found a comfort in, so far down his throat that he couldn't breathe or think.

Nox didn't know how she did it, or how a Shadow Gifted somehow managed to parade as a non-Gifted for eighteen years, but frankly, Nox didn't care all that much. He was far more concerned with listing out the ways in which he'd make her pay for what she did. The tortures he'd inflict on her just to hear her screams like a melody he once knew as a child and had forgotten as he grew older.

"You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" Lux asked, reading Nox's expression accurately, no judgement in his voice other than a hint of concern.

"It's hard not to when I'm reminded of her every time I look in the mirror" Nox answered motioning to his face once more, where his veins still ran black with what she had done to him. It was the only evidence of her damage left on his body that Lux couldn't heal.

Lux's voice was soft, knowing Nox's response before even speaking. "You should try to focus on something else. It's not like Wren Heatherfield is in any rush to see you or face you in battle again."

"Oh, I know she isn't," Nox agreed, thinking back to her screams and cries during the final trial. Nox had known people like her before. People who, call it bad instincts or shitty luck, ended up in places and situations they hadn't been expecting. People who were never taught to hold their tongue, and spoke with the audacity of someone far greater than they actually were. People who got through life by the skin of their teeth and believed that, because of that reason, the world owed them something.

But Nox knew better. The world was a cruel and unforgiving place that took what it wanted and left you with nothing to fill your hands but your own tears. He knew of absent mothers and fathers who had long since forgotten qualities of sympathy and patience. He knew the smell of death on a battlefield and how to not flinch when a man's blood was completely drained from his body right in front of you. He knew the weight of a cold crown and an even colder group of subjects. He knew of attempted assassinations that led to constant paranoia. Nox knew better than anyone that the world didn't owe you a damn cent and that if you wanted something, you better learn how to take it yourself.

Nox smiled slowly, knowing the thing he wanted was within his reach if he just remained patient and allowed for events to play out as they would. He wanted the taste of iron blood to cling to his teeth while a body rested dead at his feet, its chest open to reveal a heart that no longer beat. He wanted that body to be Wren Heatherfield's.

"I know she doesn't want us to meet again," Nox repeated, grinning up at Lux's worried expression. "That's why she won't see me coming when I do."