Reign of Darkness (The Prince's Assassin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,94

Alissand wouldn’t have captured him and they wouldn’t be here now. Maybe if he’d never gone to Seran, Vasili would have succeeded alone. He was too clever to be caught by the Yazdans. But Niko hadn’t known the truth, not all of it. History had lied. The Yazdans—blood drinkers, sorcerers—they’d never been good.

He checked Vasili’s heart rate again, this time at his thin wrist, and listened to it patter. Faint but steady.

The next few hours were a numb blur. He found a blade in the carriage—probably the one used to cut Vasili’s veins—and dug the pistol shot out of his own thigh, then wrapped the wound and set to work on a fire to boil the water he’d need to wash Vasili’s wounds.

With every gentle stroke of a damp cloth, Vasili bled anew, like his body knew only how to give up its blood, not keep it. Niko meticulously cleaned each deep slice on his arms and chest. His breaths were shallow, like the next might be his last. Wherever he was inside his own head, Niko hoped he found peace there. He wouldn’t blame him if he chose never to come back.

With Vasili’s wounds cleaned and wrapped with strips of mostly clean cloth torn from the carriage fabric, Niko fed the fire and occupied his mind with building a shelter.

The prince didn’t wake.

Adamo didn’t fare much better. The horse had stumbled to the creek bank and rested at its edge, head drooped.

As night fell, Niko wondered about Seran and about Loreen, about Amir and Julian. He’d failed in all of it, hadn’t he? He was just a man, tossed about like a ship in the storm of a past he didn’t understand. He’d tried to do the right thing, but it wasn’t enough. In every direction he looked, enemies lurked in the shadows. Was this how Vasili felt every waking moment?

Rain started in the night. The shelter kept much of it off Vasili, and the fire provided warmth. Niko wedged himself against the tree out of the rain and listened to the thick droplets fall from fat leaves. There had been nights like these he’d waited and listened for the sounds of elves stalking him and his men. That man in his memory didn’t seem like the man he was now. He’d been full of fire and rage and the knowledge that he fought for what was right, for a cause worth fighting for.

Now it felt as though whatever he did, the cause was already lost.

Vasili’s thrashing tore Niko from a dream. Shudders wracked the prince’s body, locking his muscles and arching him off the ground.

“Shit.” Niko gripped Vasili’s arms, pinning him down, but it did little to ease the relentless assault running through Vasili’s muscles and bones. The prince threw his head back, mouth thrown open in a silent scream. Niko’s vision blurred. This wasn’t fucking fair. “Etara, leave him be!”

Vasili fell limp, open eye rolling, infected by the dark. Niko clutched him tightly to his chest, forgetting the wounds and the orders not to touch. He cupped the back of his head, holding him through the aftershocks. “Come back, you stubborn prick.”

He deserved to be free. Maybe he was the only one in all of this who did.

When Niko next woke, he reached for Vasili on the moss-bed, but his hand fell through the air.

“Vasili?”

He was gone.

Niko shot to his feet, grabbed his sword, and staggered down the creek-side. “Vasili?” It was still early. Dew coated the grass and a soft mist hung over the creek bed. He couldn’t have gotten far.

Niko rounded a small bend and saw him then, crouched near the water’s edge, hands out to balance himself as he stared back at Niko. His blue eye shone wide with raw fear. He bared a snarl, like a wild animal caught unawares.

“It’s me.” Niko gently lay the sword down. “Just me.”

His gaze darted, chest heaving.

Niko stretched out a hand. “You’re safe.”

He bolted.

Niko launched forward, chasing the ripple of knotted white hair up the bank and into the trees. “Wait… Vasili. Gods, wait!” If he lost him in the trees, he might never find him again. He wasn’t thinking right. He was terrified. If Niko didn’t get to him, something else might.

Vasili fell, scrabbled forward, and was up again, thrashing through the ferns. Niko grabbed his hair—hating that he had to do this—and yanked. Vasili whirled, swinging an open-handed attack that would probably have knocked Niko on his ass if he hadn’t snagged the prince’s wrist