Page 19 of Bound In Shadow

He straightens, a slow grin curving his lips. “I wouldn’t dare. Your spirit is precisely what I want intact.” With that, he steps back, as if severing an invisible cord between us.

Every nerve in my body crackles with leftover tension. “What now?” I ask, trying to steady my voice.

“Rest.” He moves toward the door. “Tomorrow, we show Pyrthos that you’ve been… subdued. But only enough to keep the peace.”

My stomach coils at the thought. “And if I fail this little charade?”

He looks back, expression unreadable. “Then the council will demand your head, and I may be forced to give it to them.”

I grit my teeth, refusing to show fear. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He lingers in the doorway, eyes drifting over me one last time. The hush in the room deepens, laden with unsaid words, unacknowledged tension. Then he inclines his head in a mockery of a bow and slips out, leaving me alone again.

The door clicks shut. I exhale, trembling with pent-up energy. My life has become a high-wire act. One misstep, one moment of weakness, and I’m done. Yet in some twisted way, I now have a vantage point—Xelith’s private domain—where I can glean secrets the rest of my people never could.

Is it worth the risk? My heart pounds with dread… and an unfamiliar flicker of excitement. The forced proximity with Xelith is like a dance, each step a challenge, each breath an opening for something darker than hatred.

I sink back against the pillows, mind churning. Tomorrow, I’ll walk the fortress at his side, playing the role of subdued captive. Meanwhile, I’ll be watching every guard shift, every hidden corridor, searching for vulnerabilities. I’ll do whatever ittakes to preserve what remains of the rebellion—and, if possible, to unseat the tyranny that grips this city.

Above me, the ceiling glimmers with subtle arcs of mana, forming shapes that vanish as soon as I try to focus. I close my eyes, the softness of the bed paradoxically reminding me of how harsh reality is. Xelith thinks he can keep me under his spell, that I’ll dance to his tune. Maybe I will, for a time.

But I vow silently, I will not lose myself in the process.

I drift into an uneasy sleep, haunted by the memory of his dark gaze and the knowledge that, however unwillingly, we’re bound together in this precarious alliance—both searching for a power that might cost us everything.

6

XELITH

Morning light filters through the narrow windows of my private wing, illuminating the polished stone corridors with pale silver. I stand in the antechamber just beyond my own quarters, arms folded as I contemplate the situation I’ve willingly thrust myself into. Lysandra Riven, a human rebel with enough fire in her eyes to spark chaos in a single glance, now occupies the adjoining room. Last night, I left her there—unshackled, but heavily warded—half amused and half uneasy about my own decisions.

Today, I need answers from her. And more than that, I need to decide how best to handle the remnants of her rebellion still lurking in the Pyrthos farmland. Their presence offers both an opportunity and a threat.

I sense movement at my back. Rhazien, my longtime second-in-command, clears his throat. He stands at a respectful distance, waiting for me to acknowledge him. I cast a glance over my shoulder. The torchlight catches on his dark-green eyes, set in an angular face, and dances across the tidy braids pinned at the back of his head. He’s shorter than me by a hand’s breadth,his build stocky for a Dark Elf, but he’s proven his loyalty countless times.

“Speak,” I say, turning fully to face him.

He dips his chin. “My prince, we’ve received a report from one of our scouts stationed near the farmland. Seems there are clusters of human rebels still hiding in abandoned storehouses and drainage tunnels.”

My pulse quickens with interest. “How many?”

He glances down at a small parchment. “Difficult to say precisely. Possibly two or three dozen in each scattered group, all lacking real leadership—especially since Lysandra was captured.”

An unbidden wave of satisfaction flickers through me.So they are lost without her.My gaze settles on Rhazien’s face. “Do we have confirmation they’re planning another raid?”

He shakes his head. “They appear disorganized, frightened. More likely they’re foraging for basic supplies or waiting for an opportunity to flee Pyrthos altogether. The farmland watchtowers are on high alert, so escaping unnoticed will be difficult.”

I let out a slow breath. This is precisely the type of situation I expected. “And the council? Have they caught wind of these stragglers?”

“Rumors have begun circulating,” Rhazien admits. “Most figure it’s just a matter of time before the rebels starve or are hunted down. Still, some council members seem keen on a public crackdown—raids in the farmland, mass arrests. But King Throsh’s ministers have other priorities, namely ensuring the farmland meets production quotas.”

I nod. That’s the crux: if the farmland is thrown into chaos, the entire city’s food supply suffers. The council can’t risk that, so they’re caught between wanting to eliminate rebel activityand needing the humans to remain productive. It’s a delicate balance, one I plan to exploit.

Rhazien shifts, pressing his lips into a thin line. “If you plan to do anything about these rebels, you’ll need to move quickly. Once the council formalizes their next steps, you lose any chance to claim them for yourself.”

I arch a brow. “Claim them for myself, Rhazien?”

He meets my gaze, unflinching. “We both know you didn’t keep Lysandra alive out of pure mercy. If you can wrangle her rebels too, you’ll wield considerable leverage. You could negotiate better terms with the council, maybe even accelerate the end of your exile.”

---