Defy the Night (Defy the Night, #1)

by Brigid Kemmerer

I can hear his voice telling me to keep calm. Mind your mettle, Tessa. They’re the first words he said to me on the night he saved my life, and he’s said them a dozen times since.

AWE

Mind your mettle, Tessa.

<3

I don’t know if I want to hug him or hit him. Maybe both. “You’re late. I heard the horns. I thought—I thought they caught you.” “Not today.”

Them

He was late because he brought me breakfast. Not just any breakfast either. Food from the Royal Sector will be the finest imaginable.

AWE

I shouldn’t be daydreaming about Weston. It’s the least productive way to spend my time.

Oo

Thoughts of Wes are safe, and nearly as indulgent as the sweets would be. He was pressed so tightly against me yesterday morning, his palm against my cheek, his voice so soft in my ear.

Ship

I imagine what Wes would say. Mind your mettle, Tessa.

<3

Minutes—hours—days before I’m ready, he pulls away, his eyes full of stars again. He taps me on the nose. “Mind your mettle and keep your head down. I’ll be back in an hour.”

<3

Mind your mettle, Tessa. A tear squeezes free of my eye, catching in the mask. I freeze in the doorway. I can’t go out like this. Not in the sunlight. I can’t go after him.

:(

Mind your mettle, Tessa. It’s like his voice is in my head, and I choke on a sob. One of the guards must hear, because he peels away from the gate. I need to run. Wes would want me to run.

:((

Mind your mettle, Tessa. Oh, Wes. My eyes fill. I press a hand to my mouth so I don’t openly sob.

:(

“Mind your mettle, Tessa.” The voice is low and soft and so familiar that it forces me still the way nothing else would. “You don’t want to draw the guards in here.” I’m frozen in place. I’m dreaming. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. “Wes?” I whisper, and my voice is so soft.

Aweeee

“I wish I’d never let you kiss me,” she says quietly. I almost flinch. I should have let her hang on to the chain. Being hit with that would’ve hurt less.

My heart

“Mind your mettle,” I whisper. For a breath of time, I want to press the paper to my chest. Weston Lark isn’t real. He’s not. But if he’s not real, then Prince Corrick sent me the exact words I needed to hear at the exact moment I needed to hear them. Words that could sound like a warning or a threat or nothing of consequence at all.

Awe

Mind your mettle. My brain supplies images before I’m ready. Wes in the workshop, helping me weigh and measure. The children we have to coax into taking their medicine. The women who cry on my shoulder when we appear with the vials, because they’re so worried they’ll lose their entire family. The men who want to skip their doses so others can have more.

Aw

“I bring nightmares to life,” I say. “If you think a dark look will affect me, you will quickly learn otherwise.”

Oooo

I want my hands on her waist, on her back, on every inch of skin this gown leaves bare—and some inches that it does not. I want her scent in my head and her taste on my tongue and her arms wound around my neck. I can’t move. I want her to want those things, too.

Simp

Mind your mettle, Tessa. Shut up, Wes. Corrick. Whatever.

Oooo

I blow a breath out through my teeth and step forward, catching the edges of his jacket between my fingers. He startles and jerks his hands down. “Mind your mettle,” I say as I work the buttons.

Ekk

Corrick clears his throat, and I jerk my gaze up. My cheeks are on fire. “Mind your mettle,” he says. “I hate you.”

Them

I meet his eyes. Cool blue stares back at me, no deceit or cunning in those depths. “You make me want to do better,” he says suddenly, and his voice is thick with emotion, so I go still. “You make me wish Weston Lark was real, because you will never look at me the way you look at him. I don’t know how to fix everything I’ve done wrong, Tessa. I don’t even know if I can. But I want to try.”

Awe