Page 2 of The Shadowbound King

Don’t look, a little voice whispered in my mind. For a moment, I managed to heed it. But when Aedith slid another glance over the valley, I followed the direction of her gaze. In the distance, beyond the dip of the valley, the forest spread like a thick, green carpet. And beyond that, at the very edge of the trees, a band of blue light shimmered along the horizon.

The Covenant. A barrier and a promise, it stretched the length of Andulum, dividing the human kingdoms from the elven lands. In Eftar, it separated the human realm from the elvish Autumn Court.

But it didn’t always keep Autumn’s shadows at bay. According to the stories parents in Eftar whispered to their children, the Autumn Court hadn’t always been a place of darkness. In the past, its forests were dappled with sunlight, and the trees groaned with fruit that could heal injuries and bestow good fortune. But those days were gone—if they ever existed at all.

Now, the Autumn Court was shrouded in perpetual twilight. Thick shadows swirled among the elven trees, which soared higher than any on the human side of the Covenant. Strange sounds drifted across the boundary, and many villagers reportedseeing glowing eyes through the Covenant’s blue haze. Others swore they glimpsed beasts among the shadows.

And sometimes, people claimed, the shadows slipped the Covenant’s bonds and encroached on human land.

Most Eftari knew to stay well away from the boundary. But fertile soil was scarce in Purecliff, where the mountains made it difficult to grow crops. The only flat land available was near the Covenant, where villagers tried to coax an existence from the ground with spades and sickles.

Aedith swiped a thumb under her eye. “No one has seen Edrin since that night. It’s like he vanished.”

“Oh, Aedith,” I murmured. “Did you tell my father about this? Maybe he could send knights to search.”

She lowered her gaze. “You know how Lord Walto feels about the Autumn Court. He’s forbidden anyone to go near it. And, anyway, I’m sure his lordship already knows about Edrin. I beg your pardon, my lady, but nothing escapes your father’s notice.”

Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t deny Aedith’s statement. My father knew everything that happened at Purecliff. Aedith probably thought he came by his knowledge by having a knight or advisor in every corner of the village. She could never, under any circumstances, learn the truth.

She sighed, her shoulders lifting. “Edrin was the head of our small household. After he went missing, Ingaret and I had to make our way without him. Ingaret wished to marry, but we had no money for a dowry. So I took a job in the castle laundry to raise the funds.”

Guilt gripped me. The laundry was a terrible place to work with its vats of boiling water and lye-soaked air. If I’d stayed in Eftar, Aedith would have kept her position.

She must have seen something in my face, because she patted my hand. “It’s all right, my lady. It was my choice to work.”Aedith smiled. “Ingaret wed the blacksmith’s son almost two years ago. She has one child and another coming any day now.”

Before I could offer congratulations, pounding on the door drew my gaze to the bedchamber.

“Lady Mirella?” a male voice rang out. “Your father requests your presence in his study.”

My chest tightened.Requestwas misleading. My father never requested anything from me. He commanded. Demanded. Coerced and decreed.

“Should I go with you?” Aedith asked in a low voice.

I forced a smile. “No, but thank you. I’m sure he just wants to catch up now that I’m home.”

Aedith nodded, relief flitting through her eyes. Neither of us mentioned that I’d been home for two weeks. Plenty of time for my father to have summoned me—or spent any time at all with me.

“I’m sure I won’t be gone long,” I told Aedith. “When I return, we’ll talk about putting some funds aside for a dowry for you.”

Her face lit up. “Oh, my lady, I don’t know what to say.” Her expression wavered. “I could never repay you?—”

“You won’t have to.” I pulled her into a quick hug, then went to the door. The knight waiting on the other side gave me a curt nod before turning on his heel and striding down the hall.

Hiking my skirts, I followed.

Ten minutes later,my legs burned, and sweat beaded my upper lip.

Purecliff was enormous, and my father’s quarters were located on the other side of the fortress. Normally, I was grateful for the distance. But I wasn’t fully recovered from Nordlinga.

Ahead of me, the knight walked at a brisk clip, his boots striking against the floorboards in a steady rhythm. His sword clanked against his thigh, the sound echoing off the stone around us. Torches sputtered in regular intervals along the walls. A knot formed in my throat as the scent of pitch and oil seared my lungs. The memory of blazing, inescapable light threatened to descend.

Not now.Tightening my grip on my skirts, I kept my gaze off the torches as I trailed the knight through the corridors. Shadows huddled in the corners and along the floor where the walls met the flagstones. Longing filled me. With every step, tendrils of darkness brushed my ankles, beckoning me to slip into the slivers of gray and black. To let the shadows slide over my skin like silk, the pockets of darkness transporting me from one side of the fortress to another.

But just as Aedith could never know how my father managed to have eyes and ears everywhere, my knight escort could never see me move that quickly. So I kept pace behind him, and I ignored my aching shoulder and trembling legs. Long moments later, the knight rapped on my father’s door.

“Enter,” came the command from the other side. The knight pushed the door open, then stepped back and drew himself to his full height. “Lady Mirella Lornlark to see Lord Walto Lornlark.”

If my situation hadn’t been so precarious, I might have laughed. Purecliff was the most isolated estate in Eftar. The fortress was only accessible by way of a twisting staircase carved from rock and barely wide enough to accommodate a single person. We never received visitors. Our household staff was minuscule, with just a handful of trusted servants keeping the castle running. And yet my father insisted on meaningless ceremony.

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