Page 66 of The Shadowbound King

“And the other?”

“Lord Vilgot of Midpeak.”

Suspicion stirred within me. What kind of trap was I walking into? Walto had outsmarted me once. I’d be damned if he did it again.

I stepped toward Mirella, ready to grab her and run. “Why does Walto bring a human lord to a meeting with elves?”

She held herself stiffly as she looked between me and Rane. “Vilgot is elfkin. My father wants me to marry him.”

Rane frowned. “You’re betrothed?”

“No,” she said, lifting her chin. “My father wants the marriage. I never consented.”

Movement at the edge of my vision drew my gaze. On the other side of the Covenant, Walto Lornlark stepped from the largest tent. He froze as he met my stare, and naked fear flashed over his face.

I let a smile touch my lips. A man emerged behind him. Short salt-and-pepper hair flowed back from a wide forehead. His was a warrior’s build, but deep lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth marked him as well past his prime. His skin had a grayish pallor, but that might have been due to his prominent lips, which were red and shiny as if he licked them too often. His gaze locked onto me immediately before shifting to Rane.

“Your betrothed came for you,” I murmured, turning back to Mirella. “Touching.”

“He’s not my betrothed,” she said tightly. “I won’t marry him.”

Walto continued to stare. Then he advanced toward the Covenant. Vilgot of Midpeak remained by the tent. Walto was dressed richly, the long velvet surcoat over his breastplate stitched with tiny replicas of his family crest. Sunlight glinted off something near his hip.

A golden hand, the fingers curled into a fist.

Two hundred years of anticipation clenched in my gut. Offering Walto another smile, I lifted my hand and let shadow flow down my arms. Holding the image of a chair in my mind, I pushed the smoky, sinuous clouds into a shape that matched theone in my mind. When a simple but sturdy black chair solidified on the ground, I pointed Mirella toward it.

“Sit and don’t move.” Because no fucking way was she getting any closer to the Covenant. She was my sole collateral. Until I had the Kree in my hands, she was staying firmly on Ishulum soil.

Rane took her arm and pushed her into the chair.

“Stay with her,” I told him, already moving. Walto slowed as he approached the Covenant. Blue tinged his face and dark hair, which showed no trace of gray. He stayed out of arm’s reach as he came to a halt. His skin was unlined, but his eyes showed the burden of age.

He didn’t look at Mirella behind me, although he surely saw her. Vilgot certainly did. The older man’s gaze shifted constantly, returning again and again to the spot where I’d left her.

I stopped steps from the boundary and faced the man who’d betrayed my trust and set in motion the deaths of two-thirds of my people.

“Walto,” I said. “You have something of mine.”

The knights by the tent jolted. Both swept their gazes over the Covenant, their faces pale. They could hear me, but they couldn’t see me.

Walto’s expression darkened. The fear he’d displayed moments before was nowhere to be found as he reached his left hand inside his breastplate. I tensed, expecting a blade or some kind of trickery, but he withdrew a scroll. “You can’t hold Mirella in Ishulum. The laws of the Covenant forbid it.”

Fury tried to rise and choke me. I swallowed it as I fought to keep my voice even. “What would you know about the law? Except perhaps how to break it.”

He shook the scroll. “This is a betrothal contract. Vilgot of Midpeak has signed it, and so have I. Your forbears swore anoath to withdraw from Andulum. We are self-governing. You have no power in the kingdoms of men, Andrin Verdalis. This betrothal agreement is a binding contract.”

I couldn’t stifle the bark of laughter that burst from me. “And how will you enforce it?” I looked at the camp behind him. “Have you hidden a judge in your tent?”

“I don’t need to take you to court,” Walto said. “Magic is on my side. If Lord Vilgot presses his claim, the Covenant will return Mirella to her rightful owner. Me.”

A strangled gasp sounded at my back. Distaste curled in my stomach. In just a handful of words, Walto had confirmed everything Mirella claimed about her relationship with her father.

“You haven’t asked about her,” I said. “Do you care so little about your daughter’s well-being?”

He held my stare. “She seems well enough. She appears untouched.”

Untouched.My gaze fell on the roll of parchment in his hand.

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