Page 44 of Bound In Shadow

If I can scale the outer wall or find a concealed vantage, maybe I can drop a message to the farmland outskirts. Mybreath catches.So many times I told Xelith I would remain cooperative, but trust is a fragile thing.

I begin searching the perimeter, scanning for an exit or an old ladder. Rusted metal bars cling to one wall, remnants of some ancient scaffolding. I test them—loose, but maybe enough to climb a short distance. My hand trembles, adrenaline surging.I should do this quickly, before the guards realize I’m gone.

I set one foot on a bar, then the other. The metal groans, but holds for now. My shoulders protest from old bruises. Gritting my teeth, I haul myself up, scanning for a window or ledge that might open onto a lower roof.Almost there.

A sudden clang echoes behind me. I freeze, heart leaping into my throat. Someone’s footsteps. Instinct pushes me to climb faster. But the bar cracks under my foot, and I yelp, nearly falling. Strong hands wrap around my ankles, yanking me down. I hit the ground in a bruising impact, biting back a cry.

“Stop!” a voice snarls. I twist, expecting a fortress guard. Instead, I find a hooded figure in fine clothing, face partially obscured by a scarf. My blood runs cold.An assassin? A noble?

He pins me with surprising strength, shoving me against the cracked courtyard wall. I struggle, breath ragged. Our eyes lock: he’s definitely Dark Elf, indigo eyes blazing with hostility. A faint sneer curves his lips.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he hisses, grip unyielding.

I thrash, nails scraping his arm. “Get off?—”

His laughter is cruel. “Xelith can’t watch you every moment, can he? The council grows impatient, dear Lysandra.”

Terror spikes. This must be the assassin or agent of those nobles who want me dead. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, but I try to gather my wits.Sirenblood. Could I enthrall him? But my voice is shaky, and panic closes my throat.

A swirl of footsteps approaches. More figures rush into the courtyard, three or four.I can’t fight them all.My mind whirls.I open my mouth to attempt a forced enthrallment, but a blade slashes near my throat, silent warning.

“Don’t speak,” one of them growls. “We know about your rumored illusions.”

Fear stabs deeper.They know.My voice could be my weapon, but they’re prepared to silence me. The first man who pinned me tears a strip of cloth from his cloak, forcing it against my mouth, muffling any potential enthrallment. I thrash wildly, but they yank my arms behind me with brutal efficiency.

“We’ll deliver her ourselves,” someone mutters. “The council can claim the credit, or we can present her to them for a reward.”

I struggle to breathe around the gag, mind screaming.Xelith… we parted on tense terms, but he has no idea I left the warded halls.

They drag me across the courtyard, heading for a half-collapsed gate. My eyes dart around, searching for any opening. If I let them haul me outside the fortress, I might never see daylight again.No, I have to fight.

I jerk my torso, forcing a stumble that sends me crashing into one of the men. He curses, losing his grip momentarily. I manage to yank an arm free, hurling an elbow into his ribs. He snarls, blade flashing.

Before he can slash me, the gate behind us explodes with motion. A swirl of black cloak, silver hair—Xelith. He moves like a storm, daggers drawn. I freeze, relief warring with shock.How did he find me so fast?

His face is a mask of rage, war sigils gleaming under the morning light. The men turn to face him, brandishing weapons, but Xelith is faster. A slash of steel, a spray of blood. One goes down with a strangled cry. The man restraining me tries to pivot, hauling me as a shield, but Xelith meets him with lethal grace. Their blades clash in a burst of sparks.

I stumble free, wincing at the raw burn around my wrists. Another attacker tries to seize me, but Xelith knocks him aside. The courtyard erupts in a frenzy of steel and curses.This is a full-blown fight.

Breath ragged, I tear the gag from my mouth. For a second, I consider enthralling them, but Xelith’s a blur of lethal motion. He doesn’t need illusions; he’s every inch the warrior prince. The men fall back, outnumbered by the sudden arrival of fortress guards who flood in behind Xelith. A ring of drawn weapons surrounds the would-be assassins.

Swords clang one more time. Then two assassins drop to their knees, surrendering. The third lies motionless. The fourth, pinned by a soldier, spits curses.

I sag against the wall, adrenaline crashing, every muscle trembling. Xelith spins, searching the courtyard. When his gaze lands on me, his expression twists with fury—and something akin to betrayal.

“What were you thinking?” he demands, voice raw. He strides over, grabbing my shoulders. “Why the hells did you leave the warded corridors?”

My eyes burn with unshed tears. “I—I needed to see if I could contact someone, gather my own intel. I didn’t trust…”

He presses a hand to my mouth, silencing me. I realize the guards are watching. My cheeks flush. With a muttered incantation, he signals them to handle the captives. Then he all but drags me back through the archway, footsteps echoing in an ominous rhythm.

We navigate twisted halls until we reach a private storeroom. He shoves the door open and yanks me inside, wards flaring to life behind us. The space is cramped, piles of supplies stacked around. The musty scent of burlap and dried herbs fills the air.

He slams the door, turning on me with eyes blazing. “You risked everything! The council meets in hours, and you nearly got yourself killed.”

Anger flares in me, fueled by my own guilt. “I had to confirm if I could trust you not to lead me into another cage.” My voice quivers. “You keep me locked away, saying it’s for my safety, but how can I be sure you aren’t planning to hand me over the moment it benefits you?”

His expression darkens dangerously. “After everything, you still think I’d do that? I just fought off assassins for you!”

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