Page 56 of The Shadowbound King

Othor turned back to me. “As long as you think she can be trusted.”

“I’m not sure I have much choice.”

His lips twitched in a rare smile. “The trick, I think, is to make sure she doesn’t know that.”

“In other words, play the role of heartless bastard?”

Othor gave me one of his signature eyebrow raises. “Are you certain it’s a role?”

My relief grew, and I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for your efforts last night.”

“You already thanked me.”

“Well, I’m thanking you again.” Familiar guilt burned like acid in my gut. “You’re generous with your gift, typically at great risk to yourself. Healing is a task I should perform. But I can’t, and I depend on your help. I don’t take you for granted.”

His gaze softened, his customary reserve thawing a bit. “You shoulder heavy burdens, Andrin. You’re not alone, no matter what the shadows may whisper.”

My throat tightened. “I appreciate that.”

Othor inclined his head. He stepped close and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It’s early yet, and the Embervale sleeps. You should get some rest.”

“I’ll think about it.”

A knowing look gleamed in his eyes as he moved toward the stairs. “You sound like Larinor. Your father was famous for polite evasion, too.”

Othor’s footsteps echoed down the stone steps before fading to nothing. Turning back to the railing, I stared over the meadow.

The sun had risen higher, its pink and orange light stretching over the grass and occasional clumps of bellclover. The fat beams stopped abruptly at the edge of the Edelfen’s shadows.

Othor’s words lingered in my mind as I reached into my pocket and stroked the smooth contours of one of the stones I’d slipped inside my jacket before I left my bedchamber.

Would the burdens I shouldered have been too heavy for my father to bear alone? Like the elusive spark I’d glimpsed in the darkness, the answer hovered in my mind. But this time, I didn’t want to find it.

I closed my fingers around the stone as I left the railing and headed for the steps. If I moved quickly, I could mark the new boundary and be back in bed before Rane woke and noticed I was gone.

Chapter

Thirteen

MIRELLA

Ichewed a bite of toast and tried to ignore the glowering elf across from me. Rane Laruthian was just as charming over breakfast as he was any other time.

In other words, about as charming as a spotted toad. He’d stalked into the main chamber twenty minutes ago, demanding to know if I’d seen Andrin. When I said no, he cursed and swept from the chamber. Ten minutes later, he returned and ordered me out of the cage.

“Get dressed.”

Sitting in the middle of my cushion, I’d poured as much disdain into my tone as I dared. “Ginhad hasn’t brought my gown.”

“Where’s the gown you wore last night?”

“I have no idea. He takes them at night and returns with a new one in the morning.”

More cursing. Then Rane shut the cage and left a second time. He returned with a yawning serving girl with red-rimmed eyes and my yellow gown draped over her arm. She carried a teacup in one hand and a plate of burnt toast in the other.

“S-Sorry about the toast,” she’d hiccuped as she helped me dress in the bathing chamber. “I have a terrible headache. Must be s-something I ate.”

Or several somethings you drank, I thought, steadying her when she swayed. I moved my hand to her bare forearm and closed my eyes. Heat built under my hand, and visions of laughing courtiers and flowing wine filled my head. The serving girl gasped, and I opened my eyes as she steadied, color blooming in her cheeks.

---