Page 35 of Vow of the Shadow King

The boy freezes. But he doesn’t protest. After a moment, he simply lets go of the latch, backs away, and assumes position outside my door. This could work out rather well, actually. It will be nice to have a bodyguard who isn’t as ferociously intimidating as Captain Hael.

I cross the room and step out onto the balcony. There’s a great deal of activity in the courtyard below. I lean over the rail to watch. Morleth prance and pace, lashing their long, barbed tails. Grooms scramble to hold their reins, dodging snapping fangs and cloven hooves. One of the beasts is bigger than the rest. I’m almost certain it’s Knar, Vor’s own mount.

I chew my bottom lip. My fingers grip the rail. Vor is going. On a mission to find his missing brother. A dangerous mission no doubt. And he hasn’t bothered to take his leave of me. Not that I should expect any such courtesy. Why would a king take leave of his prisoner?

Clenching my hands into fists, I turn on heel and march back into the room. Yok has just assumed a comfortable position at the wall when I appear in the open door. He starts at the sight of me. His eyes nearly dart from his skull. “Princess?”

“Take me to the courtyard.” I hold myself very straight and tall, summoning all the queenly poise of my heritage. Yok’s mouth opens, closes. I watch him try to decide whether or not he should protest. To drive my point home, I add an imperious, “At once.”

That does the trick. Yok leaps into action, indicating the way with a wave of his hand. I fall into step beside him, and he guides me down several flights of stairs and through bewildering stone passages. I try not to stare as I go. But it is difficult. I’ve seen little of the palace so far. It’s truly a wondrous, magnificent structure, unlike any I’ve ever before seen. Ancient and ageless, cold, echoing, and full of shadows. Yet here and there, glowing crystals reveal awe-inspiring rock formations. I spy homely touches as well, woven rugs and tapestries, glimpses of salons and private galleries, of statues and intricate moldings. All of these flash in the tail of my eye as I hurry at my bodyguard’s side.

Most impressive of all, however, are the people. The tall, terrible, beautiful trolde men and women, denizens of the household. I take care not to meet their gazes . . . gazes which no doubt observed both my wedding and my near-execution with the same interest. They openly stare at me, however, their pale eyes intent. I feel positively dwarfed by their towering stature, humbled by their otherworldly beauty. But I carry myself as tall as I can, determined to move with confidence, to betray no fear.

We come at last to the entrance hall, which I recognize from my first arrival at the palace. It seems so long ago now that I was carried through the city in a curtained litter and deposited here in the center of this floor, beneath that huge, domed ceiling. The echoing space is full of activity now—servants assisting warriors into armor, strapping on greaves, pauldrons, and bracers. I spy Captain Hael among them. She’s just lifting her helmet to her head when she sees me and Yok under an arch on the edge of the hall. She opens her mouth, prepared to call out.

A voice speaks directly behind me: “What are you doing here?”

Shock like lightning streaks down my spine. Thrilling, almost painful. My knees go weak, but I lock them fast and school my face into a careful mask. Drawing a breath, I turn around to face the speaker. Vor. Tall and towering, a figure of majestic strength, clad in beautiful armor etched in intricate patterns. The pauldrons’ edges are sharp as blades, the bracers and greaves set with spikes. He looks like a legend come to life, and the sight is enough to make my head spin and my heart shiver in my breast.

Then I lift my gaze to his face. He’s not yet donned his helmet, and I can see him clearly. Though his features are hard and stern as stone, his eyes betray him. They are the eyes of a man half-starved. When they meet my gaze, I feel the surge of his emotion, red and blazing. So many feelings, a cacophony of fear, anger, anxiety. And underneath it all, like the deep beat of a drum,desire.

I fight the impulse to reach out to him. Every urge tells me to take his face between my hands, to draw him down to me. But I cannot. Because, though his feelings are strong, they are not clear. I do not know what he truly wants. So I fold my hands neatly before me, and lift my chin a little higher. “You are going away?” I say, my voice low and calm.

He nods. “As you see.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know.” His lower jaw works. His teeth flash in thelorstlight. “Not long, I hope.”

“Is it dangerous? Where you are going?”

“I don’t know.” Another hesitation, then, “Most likely.”

My stomach twists. I’m painfully aware of all the eyes watching us, of the sudden silence filling the cavernous hall at my back. “You will be careful.” Try though I might, I cannot help the slight quaver in my voice.

His expression tightens. Another wave of emotion radiates from him, another burst of that complicated storm. He fights it back valiantly, however, shuts it down hard behind the walls of his heart. “I will.” He glances at Yok then back to me again. “You shouldn’t leave your room, Princess.”

“I am not a prisoner,” I remind him sharply.

He shakes his head. Then, abruptly, he lifts the helmet in his hands and puts it on. The long cheek-plates cover his face, and the brim shadows his eyes so that they are no more than two bright sparks. “It’s better for all of us if you stay out of sight,” he growls.

With those words, he pushes past me, striding into the hall. I turn, and watch him go. My heart aches so badly, I want to grab my chest, desperate to ease the pain. But I dare not betray myself so obviously. So, I simply watch him as he speaks a few low, rumbling words of troldish to his people, then strides into the courtyard. The others follow after him, though Hael pauses in the doorway long enough to shoot a final warning glance at me and Yok.

Then they’re gone. Gone to face unknown perils. Leaving me behind in this cold, stone world.

A little whimper in my throat, I pick up the hem of my gown, step out from under the archway, and race across the now empty hall, ignoring Yok’s yelp of protest. I reach the still-open door and look out into the courtyard, down the broad steps. Morleth stamp and snort, blowing black fumes from their nostrils as grooms struggle to hold them steady for their riders. Vor is there, already astride Knar. He surveys his people, and I think . . . I hope . . . I wish . . . his gaze flashes ever so briefly up at me in the doorway. But I’m not sure. In fact, I’m almost certain I’m mistaken.

Vor raises a fist over his head.“Drag-or, ortolarok!”

His people answer, arms upraised, their rough voices barking:“Rhozah! Rhozah!”

Their voices still ringing against the high stone walls, they spur their mounts into motion. Morleth hooves strike sparks from stone as they stream from the courtyard and out into the city beyond. Soon there is nothing left in their wake but a haze of drifting smoke.

14

VOR

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

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