Page 72 of The Shadowbound King

Fire wrapped from my collarbone to the base of my spine. Swallowing a whimper, I lowered my hands and stepped back. Thraxos’s sides expanded, and he snorted a horsey sigh. Swishing his tail, he swung his head toward me and gently butted my shoulder, releasing a gust of warm, oat-scented air that fluttered the hair at my temples.

“You’re welcome,” I said, smiling.

Vivia gaped at the horse. After a moment, she lifted a trembling hand and stroked over the dried blood that marked where the gashes had healed. Then she turned wide eyes to me.

“You healed him.”

Wariness drifted through me. People could be weird about their horses. And Vivia hated my guts. “He was hurting. I hated to see him suffer.”

Vivia stared at me a moment longer. Then she moved swiftly, clasping my shoulders and resting her forehead against mine.

I stiffened. My heart thumped as my vision narrowed to the blurry bridge of her nose. For one wild second, I thought she might kiss me.

But she simply…held me, her hands gentle on my shoulders and her forehead cool against mine. After a few bewildering seconds, she released me and stepped back.

“Thank you,” she murmured, deference in her blue eyes. I was still working up a response when she took Thraxos’s reins and led him from the courtyard.

As the horse’s soft clip-clops faded, Ginhad smiled at me. “You’ve been holding out on me, Mirella. This whole time, you could have been healing my hangovers. Instead, you let me suffer.”

“Maybe I’m just hoping you’ll learn how cause and effect works,” I said.

“I know how it works.” He swept a hand down his body. “Men bring me drinks ‘cause I look like this.” He chuckled.

Othor was quiet, his placid expression fixed in place.

Ginhad sobered. “Um…” He focused on me. “The king said I should find you something to eat.”

“Not just yet,” Othor said, crossing to me in a rustle of robes. He rested the tip of his staff on the ground, his blue stare penetrating as he studied me. “I’d like to show you something. If you’re willing.”

My heart sped up again. He wasn’t demanding. So why did it feel like I couldn’t refuse?

Othor turned to Ginhad. “Have the kitchen send a meal to the king’s chamber. I’ll escort Lady Mirella upstairs in a moment.”

Ginhad hesitated.

“She’s a healer,” Othor added, turning back to me. “Would you like to see your elven ancestry?”

Curiosity sparked in my chest. Andrin had been dismissive of my connection to Ishulum. My father had locked all evidence of my mother’s life away. Here was an opportunity to learn something about where I came from. I might not get another one.

“Yes,” I heard myself say. “I’d like that.”

Othor dismissed Ginhad, then led me through the maze of terraces. Leaves drifted past us, some fading as they brushed my hair and gown. Othor’s staff clicked quietly against the stone pavers as he touched the tip to the ground with every other step. The moon was a heavy disk in the sky, which twinkled with stars.

“Vivia honored you,” Othor said.

I swung my gaze toward him. “She did?”

He nodded, his long robes brushing my skirts. “The Shadow Eater’s embrace. They don’t make themselves vulnerable very often.” Othor stared at a point in the distance, his expression thoughtful. “Vivia’s were was a lynx. She lost her beast in the Edelfen. The severing of the bond should have killed her, but Andrin and I brought her back. Thraxos is precious to her. In healing him, you’ve earned a friend in Vivia.”

Vivia as a friend? I couldn’t picture it. But I’d seen what Thraxos endured in the Edelfen. Some of the ice around my heart thawed as I realized why she covered his eyes when she rode.

“Could she bond with Thraxos?” I asked.

Othor shook his head. “The bond happens once in a lifetime. Our weres become one with us. And for most in Autumn, they die with us. Vivia is a rare exception.” His blue eyes met mine briefly. “She suffered a great deal when she lost herwere. Pain can be a burden. When a person carries a lot of it, instinct can drive them to push that weight onto others.”

The thaw around my heart stopped. Vivia’s story was moving, but a painful past didn’t justify the way she’d treated me. I didn’t know Othor well enough to argue with him, however, so I held my tongue.

Shadows huddled on either side of the path, rousing memories of the Edelfen. I glanced at Othor. “If Vivia and the others can eat shadows, why don’t they remove all of them?”

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