Page 15 of The Shadowbound King

But Rane’s anger was real enough. Something had provoked it. I’d been away from Eftar for two years. That was plenty of time for my father to tangle with the elves. But as powerful as he was, what could one elfkin do against the might of the Autumn Court?

Dust motes swirled in the air. The leaves continued their leisurely descent, a few brushing my hair before disappearing. We crested a hill, and a soaring castle appeared.

Purecliff rose from a mountain. This palacewasa mountain, its facade a series of steppes dotted with towers and arches. Hundreds of windows sparkled with golden sunlight. Thick trees with red and orange leaves decorated wide terraces. At the top, elegant towers were crowned with pointed, golden roofs.

Tiny figures moved on the terraces. As we drew closer, a horn sounded. Sir Castien shifted, forming into a shadowy deer. He held that form, black ribbons arcing from his flanks, before sliding into his solid, glassy shape. With a flick of his tail, he bounded toward the castle.

The horn split the air again. On the terraces, the tiny figures stopped, then faced the meadow. Several wore armor, which flashed in the sun. A few were obviously ladies, their long dresses as brightly colored as the trees.

Self-consciousness prickled through me. My hair was a sweaty, ratty mess. My gown was ruined beyond repair, its hem ragged and stained brown with mud and the gods knew what else. Dried blood crusted my hand where I’d thrust my knife into Rane’s stomach. And Rane’s tether circled my wrist, forcing me to trail him like an animal on a leash.

My throat burned, and my face heated as dozens of eyes fastened on me. Swallowing, I held my head high as Rane pulled me under a lofty stone arch and into a massive courtyard.

A cluster of elven knights waited, their heads bare and their expressions grim. My stomach twisted at the sight of the broadswords strapped to their waists. Bright leaves continued spinning toward the ground before fading from view. Sir Castien clip-clopped over the stone pavers. Halfway to a broad staircase, he shifted to two legs and then continued striding toward his fellow knights.

Another shadow streamed from a covered walkway, the inky current weaving its way across the courtyard before forming into an oversized rabbit. The creature rippled and then shot upward, transforming into a tall male with white hair. Other shadowy creatures arrived, arcing through the air before striking the pavers as eagles, bears, and giant cats. One by one, they transformed into graceful elves dressed in court finery.

Embarrassment squirmed through me as the crowd grew. Elves clustered at the tops of staircases. They craned their heads, clearly angling for a better view of Rane’s prize.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.The words became a mantra in my brain as I kept my gaze straight ahead. Rane had spoken of me serving my father’s “sentence.” That meant I could count on staying alive, right? I couldn’t serve anything if King Andrin executed me.

Against my will, my eyes darted to the knights’ broadswords. Images of my head rolling across the pavers splashed through my mind. I blinked furiously, willing them away.

A tall elf stepped to the edge of the crowd, a thick, wooden staff in one hand. His long robes opened to reveal a stitched jerkin and dark trousers. Sunlight picked out the lighter pieces in his honey-blond hair. He wore half pulled back from hisface. The rest fell over his shoulders in loose waves. His brow furrowed as he watched my progress.

Awareness lifted the hair on my nape. For a moment, I wondered if he was King Andrin. But I swiftly dismissed that idea. The blond elf stood alone among a sea of nobles. And while his clothes were rich, they were no more exceptional than those of the elves around him.

His frown deepened, curiosity and something else in his eyes. Not disdain. No, it was more like…recognition. As I passed him, the flicker of emotion fled, making me wonder if I’d seen it at all. He eased back into the crowd, and the moment passed.

Lords and ladies gawked, whispering among themselves as Rane led me to the center of the courtyard. He stopped, then swung toward me with a shuttered expression. With a flick of his wrist, he jerked on the tether. Anger and humiliation fired through me as I stumbled to his side.

An elf in a long, elaborately stitched coat appeared at the base of a tall stone staircase. “Andrin Verdalis, King of the Autumn Court, Guardian of the Kree, and High Lord of the Edelfen.”

At the top of the stairs, thick wooden doors swung open. A man stepped out and then descended the steps.

Every elf in the courtyard went to one knee. The tether jerked, and I hastily knelt before Rane could pull me off balance. Through my lashes, I watched King Andrin—because he couldn’t be anyone else—move down the staircase.

He wasn’t dressed like a king, either. He dressed like a warrior, his tight-fitting breastplate engraved with a golden tree. Leather trousers hugged long, muscular legs. An emerald green mantle pinned to his shoulders fluttered behind him. His red hair was arranged in an intricate braid that showed off his pointed ears. Tiny white flowers marched down his hair, which fell just past his waist.

But the flowers didn’t detract from his masculinity. Power flowed off him in thick waves that brushed my skin and made my heart beat faster. He was bigger and more muscular than the other men in the courtyard, his build more like the knights I’d met in Nordlinga. And like the men of Nordlinga, a short beard hugged his jaw. As bright as his hair, it drew attention to his hard slash of a mouth. Like Rane and the others, his neck was covered with swirling tattoos. But his were so bold and thick I couldn’t make out the design. More inky swirls peeked from the cuffs of his shirt.

Silence reigned in the courtyard as he gained the last step and crossed the pavers. I lowered my eyes as he stopped before Rane.

“You’ve returned,” he said, his voice low and deep.

I sensed rather than saw Rane look up at him. “Yes, my king,” Rane said just as softly. “I always do.”

An odd sort of tension stretched. It brought my head up, and I held my breath as Andrin stared down at Rane with narrowed blue eyes. He seemed angry, but alsofascinated, as if Rane was a puzzle he dearly wished to solve.

Just when the tension grew almost too thick to bear, Andrin extended a hand and pulled Rane to his feet. The king pulled Rane into a brief embrace and spoke quietly in his ear.

“If only you’d learn toask permissionbefore you leave.”

Before Rane could reply, Andrin stepped back and faced the crowd. “Rise, all of you. The First Lord of the Autumn Court has crossed the Edelfen. We thank the gods for his safe return!”

Cheers erupted as the nobles surged to their feet. I stayed put, my knee pressed to the hard stone, which seemed like the safest course of action. Rane nodded to the clapping nobles but was otherwise still, as if he disliked the attention. When the crowd quieted, Andrin touched Rane’s torn shirt.

“You smell of blood.”

---