Page 59 of Vow of the Shadow King

“Has something happened to distress Captain Hael?” I ask in a low voice as we enter the stairwell. My heart is beating fast. Now that I am alone with Vor, those moments between us last night keep playing across my mental vision. Standing caged between his strong arms. His eyes hovering just above mine, his breath hot against my lips. My hands pressed against his bare, heaving chest, his thumb skating along the curve of my breast. I shake my head, force my focus back to the present.

Vor casts me a sidelong glance. “Did you . . .senseour altercation?”

“Yes,” I admit. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to spy. I rarely control what my gift detects.”

Vor chuckles softly. The sound sends a whole flock of butterflies swarming in my stomach. “To answer your question, yes. Hael and I are currently in disagreement. Over a number of things.”

“Such as taking me into the city this morning?”

He chuckles. “Yes. Probably. Hael has not overtly protested, but I doubt she cares for this particular scheme.”

“I’m sorry to cause trouble.” I smile softly. “What else has the good captain bristling?”

Vor is silent for a moment. Have I pried into private matters? I consider taking the question back, but then he heaves a sigh. “It’s Yok.”

“Yok? Her brother, the young guardsman?”

“Yes. I’ve sent him on what may prove a dangerous mission. Hael doesn’t think he’s ready. So far, he’s struggled as a member of my guard. He was wounded by Licornyn Riders on our journey to Beldroth and sent home. Then he nearly allowed you and Lady Lyria to be eaten by cave devils while under his care.”

“That was hardly the poor boy’s fault! Lyria can be . . . persuasive. And as for last night, truly, I am sorry if my actions have compromised your opinion of him. He seems a loyal and steadfast soul. I know he desires to please you.”

Vor grunts. We’ve reached the bottom of the stairwell, and he holds the door open for me to step through into a large hall with a vaulted ceiling. Thick pile carpet of green and blue depicting fantastical images of heroes, crystals, and, of course, dragons, extends down the center floor like a long river. Vor offers his arm again and leads me onto that carpet, proceeding right down the center under elaborate chandeliers oflorstcrystals.

“I don’t doubt Yok’s true heart,” he says, picking up our conversation. “That’s why I’ve allowed the boy to go on this mission. But it is difficult. It’s always difficult, sending young ones out, knowing these early missions will either be the making or the breaking of them.”

His worry is palpable despite every effort to keep it suppressed. Part of me wants to take this opportunity, with my fingers resting lightly on his forearm, to sendcalminto his soul. But he will feel it and know that I’ve just used my powers on him. I don’t want that. I don’t want him to think I am in any way manipulating his emotions. Whatever happens between us today, it must be entirely by choice. No tricks. No magic. Just the two of us.

We’ve scarcely progressed ten paces down the hall before a door opens on our right. Five troldefolk emerge: first an imposing helmed guard, then three ladies with demure headdresses. Last of all is a much taller, broader woman in a magnificent headdress that seems to be decorated with stone-sharpened blades. She is white as bone and boasts a jaw so hard and square, it looks as though it could take a blow from a spiked mace without flinching.

The woman stops, her arms folded deep inside the sleeves of a heavily embroidered red robe. Her eyes narrow when she sees us, her gaze fixing hard on me. A flare of pure fury hits my gods-gift before it’s locked down behind her hard trolde walls.

“Grakol-dura, Shura Parh,”Vor says. I recognize the greeting from my lessons with Hael. He goes on to say something that sounds like a question.

The woman continues to stare at me, her pale eyes like twin daggers. It takes all my courage not to duck my head and look away. Finally, her lip curls back. She turns to Vor, speaks a series of short, sharp words I do not understand. Vor smiles. He pulls his arm away from me. For a moment, I’m bereft. Though I still stand beside him, I feel alone and exposed.

Then Vor’s hand comes to rest on the small of my back. Gently, he pulls me toward him. Warmth floods my senses. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter how anyone else looks at me, doesn’t matter that I am the only one of my kind in this whole hostile world. Vor is with me, his strength beside me, his power evident in even the smallest of gestures. In that one touch, he sends a bolt of courage straight to my heart. I cannot repress the smile that bursts across my lips.

The woman draws back, her eyes flashing. She snarls another short word before turning in a whirl of robes and stalking down the passage. Her maids and guard trail behind her, casting wary glances back at me as they retreat. “Who was that?” I ask.

“My minister of war,” Vor responds.

Something in his tone makes me shiver, despite the warm touch of his palm. “She doesn’t care for me much, does she?”

Vor lifts an eyebrow. “Did you gods-gift tell you that?”

I snort. “In this instance, a gods-gift was entirely superfluous, I assure you.”

His smile is quick, there and gone again, like a flash of sunlight through thick-rolling clouds. “When alliance talks began between Mythanar and Gavaria, my council was evenly split as to whether or not we should pursue it. Lady Parh was on the opposing side.”

A great deal of unspoken meaning lingers behind his words. He’s trying to keep his feelings at bay. It doesn’t matter, for Lady Parh herself made her position clear. I have no doubt she was among those crying out for my head following my disastrous wedding night.

I swallow and look down at my feet. Vor was probably right—I would be safer in my rooms. Hiding until the time is right for my return home. But no. I firm my jaw, lift my gaze to Vor’s once more. I won’t be cowed. “Well, I’m sure your minister would not deny me the pleasure of a single day’s sight-seeing in your beautiful city.” I smile quietly and take Vor’s arm once more. “Shall we continue?”

We meet others in the palace corridors as we make our way. When I made my request last night, I’d not stopped to think what being seen with me in public might do to Vor’s reputation. But he moves with confidence, nodding and murmuring troldish greetings to everyone we pass, then inclining his head to murmur their names in my ear. “That was Umog Hur,” he tells me, “a priestess, well connected by blood and definitely one to watch out for,” or “that was Lady Yahg, granddame of the Urbul Family, a notorious tyrant.” These and others, all of whom give us a wide berth and shoot curious stares my way. I keep my head up, my face serene, even as I maintain a firm grip on my crystal pendant.

We come at last to the large front entrance. Vor leads me out to the courtyard, where, to my surprise, two morleth wait, held by young grooms. One of them is Vor’s mount, big and spined and terrifying. The other, a little smaller and daintier than her counterpart, stomps one cloven hoof, sending sparks shooting across the cobbles.

I stop short. Vor looks down at me, his mouth tipped in a half-smile. “You remember Knar, I trust?”

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