Thirty Nights Forgotten

Chapter 16: Finding Ulric

Nicholas’ POV

Something has caused my wife great despair. Her sorrow was so deep that my Light One and I could feel it even at this distance, and then…nothing.

All I know is that she is not dead, but that is my only singular solace.

I want to know – no, I need to know – what caused Addy such inner turmoil. Because when I find the bastard that did this to her, I will not hesitate to torture him to death and kill him by my own hand.

But right now, I am powerless to help her, and there is nothing that makes my blood boil more than being helpless.

Taking out my insomnia and frustration on the wildlife, I wander into the village with the bounty of my hunt at sunrise. After selling the meat to the villagers for a tidy sum, I visit the local tailor to purchase some clothing for both myself and my Light One.

He looks absolutely ridiculous running around the woods with rabbit hides covering his buttocks, like a man of the wild. However, if we are going to blend in and keep a low profile, we both need clothing from this realm.

I do not particularly enjoy dressing like a peasant, but it is certainly better than the alternative. I have already attracted too much attention this morning in my jeans and ripped t-shirt. It’s hardly appropriate, so wearing peasant clothing is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

As I change behind a curtain in the tailor’s shop, a long, black cloth falls from my pocket. With a start, I realize that it is Addy’s bloodstained bandage, which I’ve kept by my side all this time.

Holding it up to my nose, I inhale her sweet, delicious scent like a man gasping for air. It’s the only tangible sentiment of Addy I have in my possession, and it makes my yearning for her grow even deeper, if that were possible.

This is unbearable, being apart from her.

Sticking the bandage back into my pocket for safekeeping, I head back to find my Light One in the forest, where he is awaiting my return.

“Here. Put some damned clothes on.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief when I toss him the extra set of clothes and a pair of shoes.

“Did anyone in the village recognize you?”

“No. I have never visited this particular village before, so I doubt any of the villagers would recognize my face.”

My Light One gives me a skeptical look.

“The Demon Realm is not like Earth,” I snap. “We do not broadcast the faces of our leaders like religious idols here.”

“Hey, Earth is your home now, too. Remember?”

I do not have the patience for his insolence today.

“Just get dressed. You look utterly ridiculous prancing around naked in the woods.”

He opens his mouth to argue with me, but he ultimately decides against it, shaking his head and turning away in silence.

Smart lad.

“So, where exactly is this goblin guy you mentioned?”

“Ulric,” I nod. “He lives in a manor on the other end of the village. If I recall, most of the town pays their rent to him, but being a landlord is just one of his many sources of income. He has garnered much wealth over the two centuries he’s been alive. He is well-connected and can provide the funds to raise an army to storm the castle.”

“Seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Is that doubt I sense, Light One?”

“No, it’s just…it seems a little too easy.”

“That is the point,” I huff impatiently. “We get money; we buy soldiers. We storm the castle; we save Addy. What is there to think about?”

“Nothing, I guess,” he sighs. “Let’s just go.”

No one in the village pays us any mind as we head toward the other end of town. Everyone seems to be going about their business as usual, despite having a new king in power.

And, for some reason, it irks me.

I had always believed the realm would descend into chaos if the Oureys were not on the throne to instill order. However, it seems that people are more resilient than perhaps I gave them credit for. These commoners are oblivious to the power struggle going on beneath their noses, going about their daily lives in blissful ignorance.

They clearly could not care any less who is in charge, so long as their simple lives remain uninterrupted. And this is doing nothing to help my foul mood.

When the buildings begin to grow further apart, the village opens up onto a grassy hill where Ulric’s manor sits atop a long, winding path.

“This is it,” I say, gesturing for my Light One to follow.

When we reach the top of the hill, we head up the steps to the massive front doors of the estate, where I use the door knocker to announce our presence. However, even after multiple knocks, his butler does not come to greet us.

“Maybe no one’s home?”

“Even if Ulric is not at home,” I huff impatiently, “his servants should be running the house and greeting guests! This is unacceptable!”

I ignore the way my Light One rolls his eyes at me.

“Ulric! It is Nicholas of the House of Ourey! Open up!”

To my surprise, my Light One pushes on the door handle, opening up the massive door with a loud creak.

“Hello?” he calls out into the dark, dusty interior. “Is anybody home?”

Pushing past him, I immediately head inside to find Ulric myself and give him a lecture about managing his staff. However, I freeze when I see the foyer in complete shambles.

“Whoa, what happened here?” he murmurs behind me.

“Clearly, a great struggle.”

Wandering from room to room, we find all of the furniture turned over and broken, as though thieves had ransacked the entire estate. Anything of value seems to be missing as we search the premises for any sign of Ulric or his servants, but the place appears to have been abandoned for months. A thick layer of undisturbed dust covers everything from the floor to the tattered curtains.

No one has been here for quite some time.

“Damn it! Where are you, Ulric?!”

“Let’s head back into town and ask one of the villagers,” my Light One suggests. “If he’s their landlord, they should have some idea where their rent is going, right?”

“I suppose that would be the next logical step.”

Making our way out of the house, we wander down the path back to the main road into the village. We spot a man with a wheelbarrow of bricks heading past.

“Hey! You, there!”

The man turns to find my Light One waving him down, hastening his footsteps to catch up to him.

“Have you seen a guy named Ulric around here?” he asks. “We were just up at his house and the place has been ransacked.”

“Lord Ulric the goblin? He’s been dead for a while now.”

“Dead?” I demand. “How?”

“He was a known supporter of the former king, so he was taken away as a traitor and hung up in the square.”

“Impossible!”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” the man answers. “They chopped his head off and put it up on a pike. His skull is still there, actually, along with anyone else who was branded a traitor.”

Feeling the frustration rising anew in my chest, I begin to pace angrily back and forth along the road.

“Don’t mind my brother,” my Light One interjects. “So, what do you think about the new king?”

“Well, it makes no difference to me who’s in charge so long as I’m left in peace,” the man shrugs. “When the old king disappeared, things were pretty scary for a while when the werewolves were vying for power. But once King Elijah took the throne, things settled fairly quickly once the traitors were executed.”

“What’s he like, the new king?”

“Well, they say he’s even more ruthless than King Nicholas. Apparently, King Elijah makes him look like a milksop!”

“A milksop?!” I roar. “How dare you?”

“What my brother means to say,” my Light One says quickly, “is that he was very attached to our dear friend, Ulric. He’s just upset by the news.”

Stepping between us, my Light One gives me a pointed look, scolding me to calm down like I am a mere child.

“Before you go,” he asks the man, “do you know anything about the old king’s family? Any idea where the other members of the House of Ourey might have gone?”

“Not sure,” he shrugs. “But I’d assume they’re all dead, just like all the other supporters of the former king.”

The man picks up his wheelbarrow and continues down the path, and I resume my pacing once more. I feel a mixture of anger and helplessness rising in my chest, and I am ill-equipped to deal with such emotions at the moment.

“Nicholas, we’ll figure this out.”

“’Figure this out?’” I snap, unleashing my rage onto him. “Do you not understand? Our last thread of hope is gone! If Ulric is dead, and my family is dead, then we have no connections in this realm! There is no way for us to gather enough men to rescue Addy without help. We are powerless! Look at us! We’re dressed like peasants! Who in their right mind would help us?!”

“Hey, we’ll gather supporters. Even if it takes time. I’m sure there are still people out there that are loyal to you, right?”

“And what happens to Addy in the meantime, you fool? What is to stop Elijah from killing her just for being my mate? Time is a luxury we do not have!”

A tense silence falls between us. Clearly, he has no idea how to respond to that, and how could he? He knows I am right.

Every second we waste leaves Addy vulnerable longer. If Elijah is as ruthless a king as the realm believes him to be, Addy’s life is in peril. Anyone who was loyal to me was branded a traitor and sentenced to death, which means that Addy might soon find a very similar fate.

“DAMN IT ALL!”

Sinking to my knees, I close my eyes and picture her face in my mind. I feel utterly helpless and pathetic for the first time in my life, without any options to save the woman I swore to protect.

I have failed her. I have failed her as a husband and a mate.

“I think I need a drink,” my Light One says in a tight voice. “Let’s go find a tavern or something in the village. We need to regroup and figure out a plan.”

“Your endless optimism is infuriating!”

“Well, sitting here moping around isn’t going to solve anything,” he sighs. “As my grandma always says, ‘You can’t think on an empty stomach.’ So, let’s go find some food and some beer.”

Perhaps he is right. I am embarrassing myself devolving into a puddle of helplessness in the middle of the street.

As we head back into the village, more and more of the street vendors have emerged for the day to sell their wares and goods. There is one particularly bright flower cart that stands out among the rest, which has the most vibrant bouquets and potted plants for sale.

However, my gaze wanders from the eye-catching display to the woman operating it, who seems oddly familiar from this angle.

“Nicholas, where are you going?”

My feet are driving me forward toward the woman with pale, translucent skin, whose pointed ears poke out from her long, dark hair. When she turns her violet gaze onto me, they immediately widen in recognition.

“Persephone? Is that really you?”