Page 81 of The Shadowbound King

“It’s all right,” he said. “We won’t enter. As long as you hold onto me, you won’t get lost.”

Doubts nibbled at me, along with Andrin’s warnings about the Edelfen’s nature. It preyed upon a person’s worst fears, spitting nightmares and worries. But this was my chance to find out if I was trapped in Autumn—if the shadows were truly as dangerous as he and Rane claimed. I stood, my nightgown dropping to my ankles. Drawing a deep breath, I crossed to Rane and slipped my hand into his.

A tunnel of blackness opened, its slick walls twisting like oil. The air howled, and shadows clawed at the edges of my vision. Something screamed—piercing and wild—and a dark mass lunged at me.

Rane tightened his grip, tugging me backward. The tunnel collapsed, and the bedchamber returned to normal. My knees buckled, but Rane steadied me.

“Aren’t you afraid it’ll show you what you fear?” I asked as I caught my breath.

“No,” he said quietly. “I come from the shadows. They don’t want to scare me. They want me back.”

Goosebumps lifted on my arms as he went to the door.

“Get dressed,” he said. “Ginhad hasn’t shown up, which means he’s either passed out or still drinking.”

When I entered the main chamber, Rane announced we’d eat breakfast in the Great Hall. The Embervale was quiet as usual, with everyone sleeping off the previous evening’s excesses. When we entered the hall, the stench of sweat and stale alcohol wrinkled my nose.

“Sit,” Rane said, pointing to a reasonably clean table near the hearth.

I picked my way over puddles of wine and pulled out a chair. “You could have showed me the shadows the first day. Then you and Andrin wouldn’t have to babysit me.”

His amethyst eyes were unreadable. “You’d be surprised what people are willing to risk when they think they have no other choice.”

He disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, the clatter of metal and several muffled curses drifted into the Great Hall. When a few more crashes and muttered oaths emerged, I stood and went to investigate.

Rane crouched in front of the kitchen’s massive hearth, wielding a long metal fork over glowing embers. Slices of bread were neatly arranged on a table behind him, each one browned to various degrees.

I sucked in a breath as I realized what he was doing.

He spun, a defensive expression on his face. “I told you to wait in the hall.”

“You sounded like you needed help.” I looked at the table. “Is this breakfast?”

A flush crept up his neck. “It’s an experiment. I want to know what kind of toast you’ll actually eat.”

I smiled, something loosening in my chest. “I think you used all the toast in Ishulum. I’m bound to like one of them.”

We ate in the Great Hall, several pots of jelly and a knife between us.

“This one is good,” I said, biting into a lightly browned slice.

He shook his head as he slathered red jam over several pieces of toast and stacked them. “Too light. That’s basically just bread.”

“No one is asking you to eat it.”

He grunted, used a plain slice to mash his tower, then lifted the makeshift sandwich and bit into it.

“That’s…” I pressed my lips together before I could say “gross.”

“Efficient,” he said, chewing.

We spent the next few minutes sampling jams and arguing about breakfast foods. Leaves drifted from the ceiling, several brushing our plates before they disappeared.

“They’re pretty,” I said, letting one touch my finger. “Better than snowflakes.”

He sipped from one of the water goblets we’d brought from the kitchen. “You don’t like the cold?”

Memories of the long, bitter months in Nordlinga returned. “Not when it’s unrelenting.”

---