Page 4 of The Shadowbound King

He glanced at the door behind me, then lowered his voice. “People in our position are bound by duty and allegiance to our house. Sigurn Brighthelm was our best chance to ensure the power in our blood passes to the next generation. Your selfishness could further dilute the gifts we’ve preserved for a thousand years.”

The accusation stung, but it didn’t surprise me. My father had never hidden his reason for sending me North. Not from me, anyway. The power of Ishulum—and the elves—ran through our veins.

It ran through Sigurn Brighthelm’s, too. But none of us could claim it. Even speaking it aloud was dangerous.

As if he’d read my mind, my father stood and rounded the desk. Panic bolted through me as he grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet.

“What are you—?” My question ended in a strangled gasp as he pulled me to the corner of the room and stepped into the shadows.

Darkness spun around me, a magical wind ruffling my skirts and tugging at my hair. I was everywhere and nowhere, my only point of reference my father’s tight grip on my arm. Rooms flashed across my vision as he moved us through the fortress, carrying us from shadow to shadow toward a destination I couldn’t predict.

Finally, my slippers scraped stone, and icy wind blasted my face. Blue sky and rugged mountain peaks replaced the darkness. Around me, pennants with the Purecliff coat of arms snapped atop wooden poles thrust from holes drilled into the battlements. My father and I stood alone on the fortress’s tallest, oldest tower. The valley and the forest sprawled in the distance. At this height, the Covenant was a thick, bright line on the horizon. Beyond it, the Autumn Court was a dark void.

Wind screamed around my head. The pennants crackled as they lashed the air. On a wooden platform in the corner, a massive siege horn rose in the air, the bell large enough to carry the warning blast to the village should an enemy attack. When the knights tested it the first day of every month, the mournful boom shook the whole castle.

My father turned to me. Wind tossed his hair, and sunlight haloed his head as he thrust his golden fist toward the barrier. “Tell me why that boundary exists.”

I clenched my jaw. This was one of his favorite games—forcing me to recite a story he knew all too well.

“Tell me!” he thundered, making me jump.

“I…” I pushed tangled hair from my face, only for the wind to send it slapping against my mouth. I spit the strands from my lips and held them back with one hand. “The elves created it.”

“Be more specific. Start from the beginning.” My father folded his arms. “We can stand here all day.”

It wasn’t an idle threat. When Walto Lornlark said something, he always followed through. I’d gone to bed with an empty belly often enough as a child to know that.

Dragging in a breath, I recited the story my governess had told me from the time I was old enough to understand speech. “The Covenant hasn’t always been there. A thousand years ago, the Realm was whole. Andulum and Ishulum didn’t exist. The elves controlled everything, including humans.”

“How?” my father demanded.

“The bond. The strongest elven lords rewarded their favorite humans by bonding with them.”

“And?”

“The bond slowed the aging process and extended the human lifespan. But it robbed the humans of their will. They became slaves, compelled by magic to obey their masters’ orders. Eventually, the humans turned on the elves. The slaves rose up and started a war.”

“A rebellion,” my father corrected. “Keep going. Tell me why the humans won.”

Gods, why was he doing this? Squinting against the sunlight, I plodded on. “The elves struggle to have children. Humans reproduce far more easily. At the time of the rebellion, the humans outnumbered the elves three to one.” My teeth threatened to chatter as the wind swirled up my skirts, its icy fingers penetrating my chemise and stockings. “Facing extinction, the elves created Andulum for men and withdrew their magic from the land.”

“Not all of it,” my father said. “What remained?”

“Whoremained,” I said, and perverse satisfaction twisted through me at the flash of anger in my father’s eyes. “When the elves bonded with humans, they often took them into their beds. These pairings produced mortal offspring with magical gifts.” The tower was deserted, but I glanced around anyway. “Elfkin,” I added softly.

My father nodded, then matched the volume of his voice to mine. “Few of our kind remain in Andulum. We’ve been hunted and persecuted. Tortured and killed.” He took my shoulder and turned me toward the Covenant.

Pain spiked under his fingers, and I cried out.

He released me. “What’s wrong with you?”

For a heartbeat, I considered lying. But it was useless. He’d asked a question. He would dig until I answered. “I healed a bird,” I muttered.

Displeasure flashed in his eyes. “You waste energy on useless things.” Taking my shoulder again, he forced me around so I faced the Covenant. Then he stepped behind me and continued, bitterness in his voice. “We straddle two worlds. The Autumn Court is our birthright, but we can never venture there. The elves abandoned us.”

Pain radiated down my arm, fatigue close on its heels. How many times had I heard him tell this story? He spoke of our heritage as if it were something new instead of a tired tale watered down by ten centuries and countless human ancestors. Was our magic really that special?

But I knew the answer. My forefathers had fought on the side of the elves during the Rebellion. And when the tide turned and the elves withdrew across the Covenant, the Lords of Purecliff hid their elven blood to hold onto their power.

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