Page 87 of The Shadowbound King

“She’s not like Walto,” I said, my voice husky.

Othor looked up at the Edeloak. “No,” he said softly, “she’s not.” He let his gaze linger on the tree a moment before returning his attention to me. “I used to think the gods had abandoned Autumn. But maybe we stopped listening. Sometimes, they speak through the most unlikely messengers.”

I knew my expression verged on dumbfounded. Othor was being…decent. Maybe the worldwasending.

The wind stirred, and a leaf fell from the Edeloak. Brown and brittle, it spiraled to the ground. Othor picked it up, studying it briefly before lifting serious blue eyes to mine.

“Andrin’s strength is fading quickly. I felt it the other night when I healed him. He listens to you more than anyone. Mirella can get you into Purecliff. If Andrin is hesitating to use her because he regrets collaring her, we can’t afford the delay. Talkto him. We need to act now, even if it means pushing Mirella before she’s ready.”

Something within me bristled. What did he know of Mirella? Nothing. He had no grasp of her resolve, no sense of the captivating contradiction in her—how she remained fearless even when she was afraid. He didn’t know that she slept on her side, her hair like a crimson river and her nightgown riding up her thighs in the most maddening way. He didn’t know that she tasted like silk and rich, dark wine.

“Andrin knows what he’s doing,” I said.

Othor was silent for a moment before stepping close and gripping my bicep. “After everything Andrin has done for Autumn, he deserves to be happy. You make him happy. I know you’ll make him see reason.” He squeezed my arm, then turned and walked away.

I watched him leave, bemusement tugging at my lips. It took impending annihilation to stop Othor from being an asshole for five minutes, but at least now I knew he was capable of it. As swiftly as it arrived, my amusement faded, replaced with worries that gnawed at my gut. Othor was a dick, but he was smart. It was no surprise he’d guessed my plan to use Mirella as a bridge between Autumn and Purecliff. Or perhaps his spies had uncovered it. Either way, he was right: we were out of time.

I turned back to the Edeloak. The ancient tree loomed over me, its branches stretching toward the sky.

My prayers died on my tongue, and fresh resolve filled me. Andrin’s strength waned. But I could buy him time.

You absorb the shadows so the light can shine.

My magic didn’t create anything, but it had its uses. Funny how it had taken a spitfire elfkin redhead to make me see it.

The wind tugged at my clothes in a subtle invitation. Andrin would be furious when he discovered what I’d done. But he’d be safe.

I shed my skin and vaulted into the sky. Flapping my wings, I let the wind carry me upward. As I soared above the King’s Grove, the shadows of the Edelfen came into view. The tide of inky blackness covered most of the meadow now, leaving only a narrow strip of sunlit green.

Wheeling in the air, I plunged toward the shadows.

Chapter

Twenty-One

MIRELLA

“So, anyway,” Ginhad said, “I told him I wasn’t interested in anything serious, but hiswereis a snake, and not to bepredictablebut it was hard to say no to that kind of flexibility. Mirella, are you even listening?”

I jerked at the sound of my name. Tearing my gaze from the chamber’s doors, I met Ginhad’s disgruntled stare across the table where Rane had accused me of being picky about toast.

“I’m sorry,” I said, grasping at the conversation I’d been neglecting. “Um. You met a man at last night’s feast.”

Ginhad sighed. “I didn’t meet him. I’ve known him for twenty years.” He waved a hand. “I mean, I met his snake, but whatever. Why are you so worried about Rane?”

I couldn’t help glancing at the doors. “Andrin was really angry when we woke and Rane was gone.” Andrin and I had searched the Embervale from top to bottom, enlisting the help of hungover servants and half-dressed knights along the way. And we’d come up emptyhanded.

Rane had been gone for hours. Now, it was nearing lunch, and there was still no sign of him. Andrin had spent the morning alternating between curse-laden pacing in the chamber andascending the roof to stare down at the meadow. Moments ago, he’d left again for the castle’s tallest spire.

“Rane will be all right,” Ginhad said, his eyes softening. “He’s safe from the shadows as long as he stays in the air.”

That was the problem. Andrin was convinced Rane had gone to the forest to eat shadows. If Rane didn’t return soon, I knew nothing could stop Andrin from going after him.

I pushed my chair back and stood. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Ginhad frowned. “That’s exactly what you should do. You’re a—” Clamping his mouth shut, he glanced around. “You’re awerek,” he said in a lower voice. “It’s a rare gift.”

Confusion swamped me. “Should I keep it a secret?”

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