Oath Taker: Kingdom of Runes Book 1 by Audrey Grey

Author:Audrey Grey [Grey, Audrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Starfall Press
Published: 2019-05-23T06:00:00+00:00

Bell jerked awake, blinking back the tormented dreams that still played across his vision. Wails pierced the air—his own ragged breaths, he realized, sputtering out like sobs.

He was leaned against a hard wall, his body stiff, achy, and near frozen. Countless heartbeats wracked his chest before he remembered where he was.

A cell—a tiny, windowless cell—deep in the Shade Queen’s castle.

Not that he needed a proper window. Half the far wall had crumbled away, leaving a jagged hole of open sky. Blasts of wind howled through the room, sending snowflakes swirling across the obsidian floor, making his teeth clatter.

The cold pierced his heavy red cloak like it was gossamer instead of fine Arlavian velvet.

Sighing, he lifted the fur-lined hem with stiff, purple fingers, grimacing at the tattered edges and oily stains. Some of it undoubtedly his blood. It was a fine cloak too. Handsomely made, the murex dye—made from a rare type of snail—would only grow brighter as it aged.

A bitter laugh formed in his parched throat. Fine time to mourn the state of your garments, Bellamy.

His thinking only proved his absolute worthlessness in this situation. And a hopeless situation it was.

He winced as he touched his tender nose, recalling how after he was taken by the brutish Shade Lord, he was paraded through the castle like one of his father’s prized horses.

After a few hours, the Noctis toying with Bell tired of his fighting back and broke his nose with a sharp backhand, leaving stars in his vision and his mouth full of blood.

And all the while, the strange beasts—the winged Noctis—they watched him with those greedy, primal eyes. Trailing him down the shadow-steeped corridors. Sniffing the air behind him.

If not for the larger Shade Lord, the other Noctis would have torn Bell to pieces.

He could feel their hungry stares even after the Shade Lord had thrown him into a cell. Even after the lock clicked and he faded into sleep. They were in his nightmares, in his head.

They wanted his magick.

Magick. The word clanged around his skull, worse than the dull headache throbbing behind his eyes. Prince Bellamy Boteler, first lightcasting noble in decades to grace the mortal realm. He’d finally gotten what he’d wanted. He was good at something. He was special.

“Special and doomed, you idiot,” he muttered, glancing down at his very magick-less—and cold—fingers.

Where was that magick now? What good was it if he couldn’t even make a meager flame to warm the blood back into his hands? If he couldn’t use magick to at least vanquish the nightmares that tormented him?

Teeth clattering, he drummed his head against the stone wall, thud, thud, a frosty breath shimmering the air as he tried to calm the tide of panic rushing over him, drowning him.

They wouldn’t just leave him here like this. He was important to the Shade Queen’s daughter, Ravenna.

They wouldn’t let him freeze to death. They wouldn’t.

Keep telling yourself that.

Who knew what the Noctis were capable of? They might not even need him alive. Especially if his magick proved to be a fluke, which seemed more and more likely by the hour.

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