had vowed to save him.
“Fuck you, Vasili!”
The bastard didn’t get to make that choice for him. He didn’t want that perfect life without Vasili in it. “Fuck you, my prince.” He hunched forward and squeezed his eyes closed against the sudden all-over ache of loss.
Cool tears splashed into his dusty palms. He opened his eyes and looked at those wet splashes.
Dark flame dripped from his fingertips, and his memory flashed back to the killing in Loreen’s streets, to the monster he’d briefly been.
Fear clutched at his heart and stole his breath.
He lifted both hands and turned them, watching the flame pulse. It hadn’t gone. It was… waiting. Quickly, he folded his fingers into fists, and the dark flame spluttered out. Controlled.
He had the flame inside him still, leftover from whatever horrors Amir had forced him to commit. His gut said not to use it, to hide it, but his head already knew what had to be done.
Get his fucking prince back.
He looked up the empty road.
Vasili didn’t get to surrender, not for anything, and certainly not for Niko. Niko was damn well bringing his prince home, and no vicious elf, no endless war, and no dishonorable Yazdan was going to stand in his way.
The Prince’s Assassin series concludes in
Curse of the Dark Prince.
Order now from Amazon.
Acknowledgments
A huge thank you to all my readers in the Ariana Nash Silkies Facebook group, who keep the stories alive long after they’ve been released into the wild. And to everyone who takes the time to leave a review on my books. Reviews are like little gifts to authors. If you’re able to leave one, please do.
Vasili and Niko’s final adventure takes place in Curse of the Dark Prince, coming early 2021.
Available to pre-order from Amazon now.
Silk & Steel excerpt
Eroan
The iron door rattled on its hinges and groaned open, spilling silvery light inside. Gloom fled to the corners, leaving behind a figure with broad shoulders. Male, Eroan thought. Curious scents of warm leather and citrus tickled his nose. After the wet and rotted smell of the prison, he welcomed any change in the air, even if it meant his visitor had returned.
Eroan kept his head low and his eyes down, hiding any signs of relief on his face. The shackles holding his wrists high bit deeper. He’d been so long in the dark, he’d almost forgotten he was a living thing. The constant, beating pain was a cruel reminder. This visitor was a cruel reminder too.
He knew what happened next. It had been the same for hours now. Days, even.
The male came forward, blocking more light, lessening its stab against Eroan’s light-sensitive eyes. He turned his face away, but the male’s proud outline still burned in his mind. Other images burned there too. The male’s half-smile, the glitter of dragon-sight in his green eyes. Eroan had rarely gotten so close to their kind without killing them.
His mission would have been successful if not for this one.
“You need to eat.” The male’s gravelly undertone rumbled.
He needed nothing from him.
A tray clattered against the stone floor. The sweet smell of fruit turned Eroan’s hollow stomach.
Moments passed. The male’s rhythmic breathing, slow and steady, accompanied the scent of warm leather rising from his hooded cloak, and with it the lemony bite of all dragonkin. A scent most elves were taught to flee from.
“Were you alone, elf?” the dragonkin asked. The questions were the same every time. “Will there be another attempt on her life? How many of your kind are left in our lands?” More questions.
Always the same. And not once had Eroan answered.
Steely fingers suddenly dug into Eroan’s chin, forcing him to look, to see. Up close, the dragonkin’s green eyes seemed as brittle and sharp as glass, like a glance could cut. His smile was a sharp thing too.
“I could torture you.” The dragonkin’s smile vanished behind a sneer.
Eroan’s straining arms twitched, and the chains slung above his head rattled against stone. He has me in body, but not in spirit. He gave him nothing, no sneer, no wince, just peered deep into the dragonkin’s eyes. Eyes that had undoubtedly seen the death of a thousand elves, that had witnessed villages burn. If they had souls, this dragon’s would be dark. He could torture me. He should. Why does he wait?
Eroan recalled that cold look when their swords had clashed. He’d cut through countless tower guards, severing them from their life-strings as easily as snipping at thread, but not this one. This one had refused to fall. This dragonkin had fought with a passion not found in the others, as though their battle were a personal one. Either he truly loved the queen he protected, or he was a creature full of fiery hate that scorched whatever he touched.
The dragonkin’s fingers tightened, digging in, hurting, but just as the pain became too sharp, he tore his hand free and stepped back, grunting dismissively.
Eroan collapsed against the wall, letting the chains hold him. Cold stone burned into raw skin. His shoulder muscles strained and twitched. Pain throbbed down his neck too, but he kept his head up, kept it turned away.
“I cannot…” Whatever the dragon had been about to say, he let it trail off and reached for the ornate brooch fixing the cloak around his neck, teasing his fingers over the serpent design.
Eroan wondered idly if he could kill him with that brooch pin. Of course, to do that, he’d need to be free.
The dragon saw him watching and dropped his hand. “You do not have long, elf.” His jeweled eyes glowed. Myths told of how the dragonkin were made of glass and forged inside great fire-spewing mountains in a frozen land. Not this one. This one had something else inside. Some other wildfire fueling him.
The dragon turned, sweeping his cloak around him, and headed out the door.
“What is your name?” The question growled over Eroan’s tongue and scratched over cracked lips. He almost didn’t recognize the rumbling voice as his own.
The dragon hesitated, then partially turned his head to peer over his shoulder. The fire was gone from his eyes, and something else lurked there now, some softer weakness that belied everything Eroan had seen. His cheek fluttered, an inner war raging.
The answer would have a cost, Eroan realized. He shouldn’t have asked. He let his head drop, tired of holding it up, of holding himself up. Tiredness ate at his body and bones. The shivers started up again, rattling the chains and weakening his defiance. This dragonkin was right. He did not have long.
“My name is Lysander.”
The door slammed, the lock clunked, and Eroan was plunged into darkness.
Download Silk & Steel from Amazon here. Also available in paperback and audio.
Also by Ariana Nash
Please sign up to Ariana’s newsletter so you don’t miss all the news.
Also by Ariana Nash
Prince’s Assassin Series
King of the Dark
Reign of Darkness
Curse of the Dark Prince
Silk & Steel Series
(Complete Series)
"I would expect this series (Silk & Steel) to appeal to fans of CS Pacat's Captive Prince and Jex Lane's Beautiful Monsters." R. A. Steffan, author of The Last Vampire.
"A few pages in and I'm already hooked. I can't wait to see the deliciously dark world Ariana has created." ~ Jex Lane, author of Beautiful Monsters.
"The characters yank, twist, and shatter your heartstrings." ~ Goodreads review
Click here to start the adventure with Silk & Steel, Silk & Steel #1
Primal Sin Series
"A story of star-crossed lovers, of two men, two enemies, who should never have fallen in love."
Angels and demons fight for love over London’s battle-scarred streets.
Primal Sin, Primal Sin #1
Eternal Sin, Primal Sin #2
Infernal Sin, Primal Sin #3
About the Author
Born to wolves, Rainbow Award winner Ariana Nash only ventures from the Cornish moors when the moon is fat and the night alive with myths and legends. She captures those myths in glass jars and returning home, weaves them into stories filled with forbidden desires, fantasy realms, and wicked delights.
Sign up to her newsletter and get a free ebook here: https://www.subscribepage.com/silk-steel