The Sleepless King and the Nightlark

Chapter 3: Truth or Treachery

FAELAN'S POV

I stormed out of my chambers in a foul mood. Murderous, even.

This, despite having just woken from the first true sleep I've had in decades. My body felt strong. My mind, clear and focused. And yet, beneath it all, I still carried the same simmering irritability that had plagued me for ages.

So that was it, then? One night. One fleeting mercy after fifty years of waking torment.

I should have felt grateful. Instead, it felt like mockery.

And my thoughts kept circling back to her.

The silent, trembling woman in my chambers. Her eyes pleading, her tears dangerously close to swaying me. She had appeared out of nowhere. Just as the Nightlark vanished. No trace of the majestic bird remained. Only her.

Coincidence? No. I’d lived too long to believe in that.

Whoever she was, whatever hell she crawled out of, she was connected to this.

If she thought her tears and pleading would save her, she was a fool. She had until nightfall to tell me the truth. After that… gods help her, because I won’t.

Ravion, one of my senior advisors and closest friends, appeared at the end of the corridor. He smoothed back his already immaculate dark hair, tied neatly at the nape, then clasped his hands behind his back, that familiar, easy smile tugging at his mouth.

“Bad night?” he asked lightly, pulling me out of my brooding.

I gave him a dry look. “Every night is a bad night for me,” I said. “You’ve known that for fifty years.”

It wasn’t a bad night. Not really. It was actually the best I’ve had in ages. It was the morning after that grated on me. But I had no intention of telling him that. Or anyone, for that matter.

He tilted his head, studying me like a hound watches its master. His gray eyes were too sharp, too perceptive. I forced my expression blank.

He shrugged. “You look even crankier this morning.”

“Do I?” I said flatly.

“I’ll have Ser Thamiel bring your elixir,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “I could also send Ingrid to your chambers tonight. Help you take off the edge.”

“No,” I said almost immediately. “Do not send me Ingrid. Or any other woman. They never help.”

Ravion laughed. “What? I thought you and she had quite the connection.”

I rolled my eyes. “She was fine for a while. Then she got mouthy and nosy. And honestly? She wasn’t even that good in bed.”

That earned a low whistle from him, half amusement, half disbelief. “Suit yourself, Your Majesty."

I turned away, intending to retreat to my study before he could press further. The last thing I needed was Ingrid, or anyone, near my chambers.

I hadn’t taken three steps when a guard came tearing down the hall, panting hard, eyes wide as if chased by death itself.

“Your Majesty,” he gasped, bowing low. “Forgive the intrusion... but there’s something you’ll want to see. In the village of Sunfield.”

Ravion stopped beside me, his brows lifting. “Sunfield?” he echoed, curiosity edged with suspicion. “That’s the village near King Mordain’s kingdom.”

The guard only nodded, throat bobbing.

That was enough. I didn’t ask more questions. I didn’t waste breath.

Magic crackled beneath my skin as my body shifted swiftly into a great white wolf. I bolted through the gates and into the forest. The wind whipped past, carrying the scent of smoke long before ashes began to fall from the sky.

I reached the outskirts in no time. Smoke still curled from the charred remains of wheat stalks. My commander, Garron, stood in the middle of the blackened field, helm tucked under his arm, his jaw set tight.

I shifted back, boots crunching against the scorched earth, the air thick with the bite of smoke and tension.

“What happened?” I demanded.

Garron swept an arm toward the devastation. “As you can see, Your Majesty,” he said grimly. “Someone’s burned the field. The entire yield’s gone.”

I scanned the ruin. Acres of golden fields had been reduced to soot. My gaze lifted past the crumbling walls and beyond, toward my brother’s land.

“You think it’s Mordain?” I asked.

Garron hesitated. “It’s possible. He and his men had access. And…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your brother’s a fire wielder.”

Ravion arrived then, riding hard. He dismounted with a low curse, his eyes sweeping over the devastation.

“But,” Garron continued carefully, “it would be unwise to accuse him without proof. There are no traces of magic, no footprints. Whoever did this was careful.”

I clenched my jaw, my gaze sweeping the scorched field. The smoke stung my eyes. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to my kingdom... and the signs always pointed to him.

I’d thought that after he cursed me, he would have moved on. Moved past my one night of recklessness. But no.

“Gather what’s left,” I ordered. “Search for magical residue, sigils, anything that can trace the spell. If it’s Mordain, I’ll know.”

Garron bowed and began shouting orders, his men moving to obey.

Ravion stepped up beside me, lowering his voice. “If this is your brother,” he said, “I’d say he’s asking for war.”

I didn’t answer, though a part of me burned to answer fire with fire.

“Too bad for him,” I said as I turned to leave, “I’m not so easily provoked.”

The rest of the day blurred. Garron and I rode the valley from end to end, setting wards and assigning patrols along the border. I ordered magical traps placed at the river crossings, spells to freeze any trespasser in their tracks.

If Fennora thought Lysarra had gone soft under a sleepless king, they’d soon be corrected.

Farmers gathered what yield they could from the surviving fields, bundling it for storage before the frost came. I helped where I could, clearing burned debris with a flick of magic.

When the sun began to sink behind the hills, Garron dismissed his men for supper. I stayed at the edge of the field, staring at the darkening horizon, weariness heavy on my shoulders.

Tonight would have been a good night for another dreamless slumber. But the Nightlark was gone.

Then I remembered her. The mute woman. The trespasser.

My knuckles cracked as I flexed my hands. I had given her until sundown to speak, and the sun was bleeding out fast.

I shifted without a word. Four paws hit the earth, and I ran—through field, forest, and plain—until the palace loomed ahead, its towers catching the dying light of dusk.

The guards bowed low as I slipped through the gates. I shifted back the instant my boots struck stone, not slowing as I strode down the corridors. The castle was quiet, unaware that its king was half a breath away from breaking something. Or someone.

I drew a slow breath and closed my hand around the door handle, bracing myself for whatever waited on the other side—truth or treachery.

The door unsealed with a soft sigh. The latch clicked.

When I pushed it open, she was exactly where I’d left her: at the edge of the bed, back pressed against the footboard, my golden lasso still looped around her ankle. The chain shimmered faintly in the setting sun, its glow catching the wet sheen of her tears.

She looked smaller than I remembered.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth?” I asked, stepping closer.

Slowly, she lifted her head. And for a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.

Her eyes were green. Not the ordinary kind, but a green that seemed alive. Wild. Ancient. The kind of green found only in untouched forests at dawn.

There was no defiance in them this time. Only surrender.

She lifted her hands, fingers shaking, and began to sign. "You’ll find out soon enough."

I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the last edge of the sun kissed the horizon. The light painted her face in gold and shadow.

I thought she was stalling, playing coy to buy herself time. My temper snapped. I closed the distance between us in a single breath and caught her face in my hand, forcing her to meet my eyes.

“Are you trying to play with me?” I demanded, my voice low and sharp.

Another tear slipped free, catching the dying light. She shook her head, lips parting, but no sound came. Only the flicker of her trembling fingers as they formed signs. "Any minute now."

I barely had time to register the words before the air shifted. A pulse of magic ripped through the room, raw and blinding. Light burst from her skin, searing white-gold, driving me back a step.

“What the hell is happening?” I hissed, shielding my eyes as the glow swelled, filling the chamber—swallowing the bed, the walls, her shape.

And then, silence.

When the brilliance finally faded, I blinked against the lingering white that clung to my vision, my breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

All I could do was stare, captivated by the miracle standing before me.