Page 20 of The Shadowbound King

As if I didn’t know that. As if the knowledge didn’t haunt my every waking moment—and keep me up at night. As if I didn’t wake from a cold sweat every time a dead leaf fell from the Edeloak.

“It could break her mind,” Rane told Othor.

Othor raised his eyebrows. “You took her from Eftar against her will. Marched her across the Edelfen and dragged her into the courtyard on your tether. Now you’re concerned about the state of her mind?”

Rane’s eyes flashed. “She’s Walto Lornlark’s daughter—and an elfkin. Properly motivated, she could be a weapon. If you ruin her, she’ll be useless.”

“Her elven blood will protect her during questioning,” Othor said. “Her mind will hold.”

“That’s your opinion. One based on nothing, I might add.”

Othor’s brows climbed higher. “As opposed to yours? Which is based on being as contrary as possible regardless of the circumstances?”

Rane’s smile was vicious. “Your hypocrisy astounds me, Othor. You scold me for sucking cock under the Edeloak even as you walk around with its cast-off sticks shoved up your ass.”

Othor’s expression went frosty. “At every turn, you show yourself to be crude.”

“And you show yourself to be an insufferable, judgmental son of a?—”

“Enough!” I barked, slashing a hand through the air.

Both men fell silent, although the tension remained.

I looked between them. “We’ll achieve nothing by tearing at each other’s throats. I depend on both of you for good counsel. I need you to work together. Otherwise, you might as well be working against me.”

For a moment, neither man said anything. Then, Othor nodded. “I spoke incautiously. Rane, you have my apologies.”

Rane looked as if he’d just chewed glass. But as I let my stare bore into him, he returned Othor’s nod. “My words were uncalled for. I also apologize.”

I let my gaze linger on Rane a moment longer before turning to Othor. “I understand your reasons for wanting to question Mirella. Maybe it’ll come to that eventually. For now, however, I’m capable of questioning her myself.”

If Othor was disappointed by my decision, he didn’t show it. “Of course,” he said, offering a shallow bow. “Forgive me, Andrin. I let my fears run away with me.”

I forced a smile. “I think we’ve all fallen victim to that, Cousin.”

Othor murmured his agreement. Then, with a final, brief bow, he left.

Chapter

Six

RANE

Andrin watched Othor leave, his brows drawn together in a tight frown. Several loose strands of copper-colored hair fell around his face. As Othor’s footsteps faded, Andrin’s broad shoulders lifted in a sigh.

“He’s angry,” he murmured.

“He’ll get over it.”

Andrin looked at me. “I know you have your differences with Othor. But he wants the same things we do. He’s worked tirelessly to preserve Autumn.”

And I haven’t?The question hovered on my tongue, eager to spill into the open. But Andrin hadn’t meant it like that. He never did, even if it felt that way sometimes.

Maybe all the time.

He was forever quick to defend Othor, who disliked me for…well, a lot of reasons. But if I had to pick one, I’d wager he disliked me for having Andrin’s ear. If not for the family connection between them, I might have suspected the High Priest resented me for laying claim to other parts of Andrin.

But Othor didn’t harbor any kind of forbidden attraction. I’d swear on it. In fact, I couldn’t have said whether he preferred men, women, or both. He never joined in any of the court’s morecelebratoryfeasts. He’d never been connected to any nobles or castle staff. My spies reported that he went to bed alone, slept alone, and woke alone. Othor Verdalis was a block of ice.

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