Page 39 of The Shadowbound King

Leaning forward as much as the ropes would allow, I looked into Andrin’s eyes. “You can torture me, Andrin Verdalis. You can even kill me. But you won’t get the knowledge you seek because Ido not have it. Everything you’ve said about me is a lie save for one thing. You accused me of being a murderer, and that’s true. I killed my mother when I was born, and my father despises me for it. He speaks to me only when he can’t find a way around it. If he stole from you, that makes him a thief, and I’m sorry for it. But if you take my life, you’ll be a thief too. You’ll go on living with all your power and immortality. I’ll die before I even get a chance to live at all. And one day, you’ll be sorry for it. Because you’ll realize you murdered me for nothing.”

Andrin stared, his expression unreadable. Silence stretched, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath.

When Andrin spoke at last, his voice was like the rasp of stone. “You would put a curse on me.”

I held his stare, my upper body straining against the ropes. “One of your own making.”

More silence shivered between us. Then he stood slowly. The ropes slithered away, shadow rolling back to him and circling his throat.

“Take her to the grove,” he said. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

Rane moved around the table. I didn’t resist as he pulled me to my feet. Andrin stepped back, his gaze inscrutable as Rane escorted me from the room.

My mind raced as we climbed the steps and entered the main part of the castle. Where was he taking me? What new terror awaited me in the grove?

I bit my tongue against the impulse to demand answers. I knew without asking that none were forthcoming.

We emerged into the night air. A full moon hung heavy in the sky. Leaves drifted through the air, their edges gilded with silver.

“Keep up,” Rane said, but his voice was soft, with no trace of the mockery he’d displayed in the Great Hall. He seemed to adjust his strides, matching his pace to mine as we moved down winding walkways lined with marble statues.

The path narrowed, and a small stone arch with a metal gate loomed ahead. A wall stretched on either side of the arch, the stone covered in vines bursting with red and gold leaves. More leaves crunched under my feet.

Like the doors inside the castle, the gate opened as we approached. Rane motioned me through, then stayed close as the gate whispered shut behind us.

I stopped, my breath hitching at the sight that spread before me. Moonlight shone over an ethereal expanse of lush grass andwell-tended hedges. Dozens of paths stretched into the distance before disappearing around bends. Fireflies flitted among statues of tall, solemn-looking elves. The sound of water drew my gaze to a large, tiered fountain that glowed in the moonlight.

But it was the tree that commanded my attention. Massive and clearly ancient, it rose like a tower from the center of the garden. Hundreds of moss-covered branches spread in every direction. Roots protruded from the ground. Red, orange, and gold leaves as big as my head fluttered in a barely-there breeze.

Power hummed in the air. The breeze picked up, rustling the thousands of leaves. Magic whispered around me, brushing my skin and stirring my hair.

“This is the King’s Grove,” Rane said. When I looked at him, he gazed up at the tree with reverent eyes. “And that’s the Edeloak.”

The crunch of leaves made us both turn. Andrin moved toward us, something small and square in his hands. He stopped steps away, giving me a better look at what he carried. Moonlight shone on a wooden box covered in elven glyphs.

Unease settled over me. The box was too small to hold a weapon—at least not any kind I was familiar with. But that didn’t mean anything. Andrin commanded shadow. He could summon his ropes and strangle me before I drew breath to scream.

“Come,” he said, moving past me. Rane trailed him. After a moment’s hesitation, I followed.

Andrin led us to the base of the tree—or as close as we could get with the roots bulging from the ground. He stared at the box for a moment before meeting my gaze.

“I don’t know if you speak the truth, Mirella Lornlark. But I do.” He lifted the box’s lid away. Inside lay a skeleton’s hand. The finger bones were blackened as if they’d been snatched from a fire. Heavy golden rings studded with gemstones were melted below three of the knuckles, the gold adhered to the bone. I’dbeen a healer long enough to tell the difference between a male and female skeleton. This hand had belonged to a man. A man who’d lost his left hand.

A man who wore rings.

My heart pounded. Denial tripped through my mind. But I knew.

I knew.

“Walto Lornlark lost his hand in this grove two hundred years ago,” Andrin said.

I jerked my head up. “That’s impossible. My father is mortal.”

“He’s elfkin. And before he fled Autumn, he was shadowbound to me for a century.”

I knew my shock showed on my face. “But the Covenant forbids those bonds.”

“Forbids them, yes,” Andrin said. “Prevents them?” He shook his head. “Nothing in the agreement between men and elves stops the truly determined from forging a bond. Walto was born with strong magic. But he wanted more. So he lingered at the Covenant. He befriended my people, and, eventually, he made his way to my court. Magic always recognizes its like. I knew right away he descended from my line.”

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