Her Wolf King

{le sauveur}

THE RESCUE

Their saviour's living quarters consisted of a hollowed-out redwood tree: enormous, circular, and marked with rings on the curved surface. It was part of a larger forest on the edges of the Court of Curses, untouched by its creeping tendrils of darkness. Though their saviour was plenty dark: a nymph of nighttime, with stars in her hair and tattoos on her arms of the moon, waxing and waning. Her name, as she'd told them, was Nyx, which seemed a bit on the nose to him.

It also surprised him that a nymph of the darkness would live in a redwood tree, which seemed more suited to a forest sprite. Something about their rescuer didn't quite sit well with him. 

A shudder rippled down his spine as he stared at the wooden walls, relaxing his grip on Lenore's hand only when she gave a yelp of pain. This day certainly wasn't going the way he'd thought it would when he'd woken up to find his wife not in any of her usual places: the library, dining room, or her bedchamber. Having followed her scent down to the cellar, he had hardly anticipated finding the two of them in such trouble.

Part of him felt like he ought to protect her, to lock her away in a tower and keep her safe.

Another part of him was reminded that he was not the prince, or the golden knight riding in on a white horse. No, he was a wolf. And that part of him wanted nothing more than to get into all sorts of scrapes with her.

"I will confess that I did not have entirely altruistic motives in rescuing the two of you, Wolf," Nyx said, clearing her throat as she perched on her black velvet settee. Its carved legs bore intricate inscriptions of constellations, as did the mosaic tiles beneath his feet. "I require a favour."

"What is it?" Lenore asked warily, leaning into his side. Her hair tickled his nose.

"I would like for someone to be killed," Nyx admitted. "Preferably tonight."

He eyed the petite nymph, whose array of curved swords hung from a glittering silver belt around her hips. "You seem perfectly capable of doing so yourself, Nyx. Unless those deadly weapons are only for display?"

"If I could do it myself without risking my life, I would," Nyx said vaguely.

"So, you wish for us to do it and put ourselves in danger?" asked Lenore. "How kind of you to rescue us from one certain death to another."

He couldn't help but admire his wife's wit and cunning, even if her sharp tongue could be getting them into no small amount of trouble.

"Who do you need killed?" Everett said, drumming his fingers on his knees.

Lenore gaped at him. "You can't seriously be thinking of--"

He put a hand on her arm. "I am. The name of the target, Nyx."

Years ago, he'd been a soldier in the army. He knew what it was to kill, and he knew what it was to make one's first kill. He could remember the rush of adrenaline, the sword in his hands, the taste of blood in his mouth. Everett did not want that for his wife.

"The Queen's right-hand man, Armand. He knows too much about me... yet if I were to kill him, I would be executed," Nyx said.

"And what would become of us, your prospective assassins for hire?" Everett said.

"I would find you a way out," Nyx said, black eyes gleaming. "I did it once, didn't I?"

"Let us discuss this before we make any decisions," he said.

"You have until the clock strikes midnight." With that, she vanished in a swirl of black smoke.

"You have placed us in the most abominable of circumstances," Lenore snapped the moment that Nyx  vanished. "You expect us to kill someone?"