Page 6 of The Shadowbound King

I moved slowly, caution dogging my steps as I kept my senses tuned for the sight or sound of servants. But the journey was uneventful, and moments later, I breathed a sigh of relief as I pushed into my bedchamber.

Aedith rushed at me, her eyes red and swollen. “Oh, my lady, I’ve had terrible news from the village.”

“What is it?” I asked, taking her hands. “What happened?”

“My sister, Ingaret,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “Her babe is coming early, but something is wrong. The midwife is attending another birth hours away. No one knows when she’ll return.” Aedith’s brown eyes turned pleading. “Can you come?”

My father wouldn’t like it. But he didn’t need to know. He probably assumed I’d spend the day weeping on my bed. Even so, I had to be careful. I couldn’t be seen leaving Purecliff.

“I’ll come,” I told Aedith. “But I have to gather my supplies. You go now and take the stairs down the cliff. I’ll meet you in the village.”

Aedith squeezed my hands. “Thank you, my lady. I’ll do exactly as you say.” She hurried from the chamber.

I waited a beat, then went to the door and bolted it. Minutes later, I slung my satchel across my shoulders and stepped into the shadows around the hearth.

Chapter

Two

MIRELLA

Chilly night air swirled around me as I stepped outside Ingaret’s half-timbered home. Pulling the wooden door shut behind me, I leaned against it and let my shoulders relax for the first time in hours.

The full moon cast a bright glow over the cobblestone street and the row of houses and shops. Quiet blanketed the village. Shutters were closed. No candles burned in the windows.

A baby’s cry drifted through the wood at my back. Seconds later, soft, feminine laughter joined it, followed by the low hum of a woman’s lullaby. The rhythmic creak of a rocking chair accompanied the gentle melody.

My eyelids drooped. The strap of my satchel cut into my neck, but I lacked the energy to adjust it. Sweat cooled on my skin. The frigid night air was a soothing relief on my damp hairline and sore muscles. Ingaret had been too distracted by pain to notice when I smoothed a blistering hot hand over her forehead. My gift worked better on animals. I never understood why, and I didn’t have anyone to ask. Maybe it had something to do with the human will. Animals were simpler. They came without the prejudices and obstinacy of men. But childbirth had a way of obliterating a person’s will. I’d taken enough ofIngaret’s fatigue to help her rally and then push the babe from her body.

The child was healthy, and Ingaret and her blacksmith husband were happy to have a son join their daughter. Births were treacherous, but this one had ended well.

At least the night had ended well forsomeone. Certainly not me.

But that was a bad way to look at it. Gods, maybe I was as selfish as my father claimed, worrying about my unwanted betrothal moments after helping new life enter the world.

Exhaustion dragged my head lower. I stared at the toes of my boots peeking from under my skirts. My hair lay over my shoulder in the tangled braid I hastily arranged upon arriving in the village. As the steady squeak of the rocking chair continued, the confrontation with my father played through my mind. I couldn’t marry Lord Vilgot. Iwouldn’t. But how could I escape the future my father had planned for me? He was powerful enough to carry out his threat. If I tried to run, he would find me. My shadow magic was no match for his. And my healing magic was no help. It wasn’t like I could bandage or splint my way out of ending up the fifth Lady of Midpeak.

A scuffling sound jerked my head up. Ingaret’s husband, Gerren, rounded the corner of the house. Moonlight silvered his broad shoulders. His linen shirt was open at the neck, exposing a thick mat of curly black hair. The hair on his head and jaw was just as thick and dark.

“My lady,” he said, stopping a few steps away. “It’s late. I’ll escort you back to the fortress.”

I straightened from the door, my fatigue fleeing as I repositioned my satchel so the strap rested more comfortably across my chest. “Thank you, Gerren, but that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine on my own.” And a lot faster than I’d be with him. Theclimb to Purecliff took the better part of an hour. If I traveled by shadow, I could be home in ten minutes.

Gerren’s dark brows pulled together. “Ingaret will have my hide if I let the Lady of Purecliff walk home unattended.”

“She’ll be well-occupied over the next day or so,” I said, stepping away from the door. “The babe is latching nicely, but I left a recipe for barley soup if Ingaret’s milk supply starts to dwindle. And Aedith can always get a message to me if you need any help. Good night…and congratulations.” I headed down the street, leaving Gerren behind.

The timbered houses loomed over the cobblestones, their stone bases painted white with lime. The scent of woodsmoke and manure mixed in the air. Shadows huddled in doorways and under flower boxes. But it was too risky to step into one within view of the village. It only took one baker or tanner visiting the privy to expose my secrets.

As I passed the last house, the cobblestones opened onto a dirt cart path with deep ruts down the center. A few steps later, I rounded a bend, and my father’s fortress came into view. Purecliff soared against the sky, its battlements black against the round disc of the moon behind it.

Pausing in the road, I looked over my shoulder. Gerren was gone. The village slept. Just a few more steps, and I could slip into the shadows and seek my bed. I faced forward.

Gerren stood in front of me, his bulk blocking the path.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said. As I drew breath to scream, he pulled his fist back and clipped my jaw. The world spun, and the ground rushed up.

Just before I struck the dirt, blackness claimed me.

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