Page 56 of Bound In Shadow

I recall vividly how I found her in that council chamber, bound and alone, how fury and desperation collided inside me. Even now, I can’t quite process the enormity of my choice: turning my blade against Kalthos, Nyrus, and the entire council who once shaped my destiny. But if saving her demanded it, so be it.

When she reaches me, she tilts her head, meeting my eyes without flinching. “We scouted the perimeter,” she says quietly. “No sign of the council’s troops yet.”

“Good,” I murmur, though tension still coils in my chest. “We’ll need to move soon. This orchard can’t conceal so many for long.”

She nods, a faint crease between her brows. “I overheard your soldiers discussing the farmland enclaves. Some are willing to shelter us, but only if they see real unity between you and me.” A hollow laugh escapes her. “They think I might be enthralled by you, ironically.”

The corner of my mouth lifts in a wry smirk. “A fitting twist, given how they once claimed you enthrall others.”

Her lips quirk, but the humor doesn’t fully reach her eyes. A hush falls between us, weighted by recent events. The orchard stirs with early morning wind, rustling leaves overhead. Past thetree line, a few of my men stand watch, weapons at the ready. Lysandra and I remain momentarily apart from them all, the dawn’s light catching on the faint bruises that mark her throat and arms. Rage tugs at me again, recalling how the council’s goons manhandled her.I should’ve been faster.

She folds her arms across her chest. “So, what now? We can’t stay hidden forever. The enclaves that remain might not trust us enough to stage a real defense against the council.”

I exhale, letting my gaze stray to the horizon. “We gather those enclaves that do trust you. We offer them a true alliance—Dark Elves and humans united in defiance of the council. We can use illusions or your voice to deter small detachments, but if the council sends a legion…” My voice trails off.

Her throat works. “You’re saying we might need to keep running?”

I grimace, the admission searing me. “Possibly. Unless we muster enough force to hold a position. But our numbers are pitiful right now.”

She studies me, then lifts her chin, stepping closer. “You risked everything for me,” she says quietly. “I’ve spent so long doubting you, thinking you’d hand me over if it benefited you. But you didn’t.”

A pang resonates in my chest. “I couldn’t,” I admit, voice low. “Not when I… Not after…” Words fail me, but the memory of our stolen moments lingers like a brand.

She looks away, a flush creeping up her cheeks. “I know. And I’m grateful, though that word feels too small.”

We stand, an odd hush enveloping us in the orchard. My men and the rebels keep their distance, as if sensing we need this moment alone. The fragile alliance depends on us, but so does something deeper—our own battered hearts.

Eventually, she exhales shakily. “I hate that we’re always in a crisis. We don’t have space to breathe or talk about what happened—between us.”

A hollow laugh escapes me. “Indeed. War looms, yet we… we share something I can’t name, Lysandra.” My voice lowers, betraying the vulnerability I’ve tried to hide. “You vex me like no other. You push me to the brink of madness, yet I can’t imagine letting you go.”

Her eyes glimmer, tension layering her posture. She swallows, glancing around at the orchard’s sunlit edges. “We need to finalize a plan soon. But maybe…” She hesitates, as if summoning courage. “We can talk somewhere more private? Just for a moment?”

Relief mingles with yearning in my chest. I nod, gesturing for one of my guards to keep watch and ensure no immediate threats close in. Then I guide Lysandra behind a dense cluster of orchard trees, away from prying gazes. The hush deepens, the morning breeze rustling overhead.

We stop near a gnarled trunk, patches of moss clinging to the bark. I can smell the damp earth, the faint sweetness of ripe orchard fruit. She shifts, arms tense at her sides, as if uncertain how to begin.

“It’s been madness,” she finally says, voice trembling slightly, “and we haven’t had a chance to?—”

I step forward, unable to contain the surge of emotion any longer. My hand lifts to gently brush a lock of hair from her face. Her breath catches, eyes darkening with the swirl of so many unspoken feelings.

“It has,” I agree softly. “You nearly died in that council cell. I nearly lost everything. And still…”

She exhales, shoulders slumping as though letting down a shield. Her voice is ragged, raw. “I can’t stop thinking about thatnight we… gave in. I told myself it meant nothing, that we were just desperate. But now…”

My heart thuds, remembering the frantic heat, the anger and need that bound us together. My thumb grazes her jaw, and she leans into the touch, half-lidded eyes betraying the flicker of longing.It feels like a lifetime since we shared that closeness.

She bites her lip. “I don’t want to regret it,” she whispers. “But with everything—your people, my people, the illusions, the council— we barely know how to talk without biting each other’s heads off.”

A soft laugh escapes me. “True. But maybe that’s who we are—caught between conflict and this… unstoppable draw.”

She shifts closer, the orchard’s dappled sunlight casting shifting patterns across her cheeks. I can’t resist. I slip my hand in her midsection, pulling her carefully against me. She exhales, pressing a palm to my chest. The tension melts into an aching tenderness that floods my veins.

“Xelith,” she murmurs, voice trembling. “If we do this again, I need to know it’s real.”

My chest tightens. “It is. Despite the madness, it’s the only thing that feels real right now.”

A shiver runs through her. Then she surges up on her toes, lips finding mine with a desperate urgency. A groan tears from my throat. Her fingers curl into my hair, breath mingling with mine as we taste each other’s frustration and relief. The orchard fades, replaced by the pounding of our hearts.

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