Page 36 of The Shadowbound and the False God

So he knew.Aisling drew in a breath, then forced it out slowly, attempting to settle herself before the sky above mirrored the storm in her head. Of course he knew—he’d likely felt it during the ritual in The Cut, and again the night she and Kael had sat together before the moon gate. He’d felt Kael vying for control over his magic and could feel through those snaking tendrils of shadow what force was giving the king the upper hand.

She wished she had a bit of that control herself. The Silver Saints had warned that the magic in Elowas would act as an amplifier, but she hadn’t guessed that would include her affinity. It wasn’t magic; not really. Not like Kael’s shadows or Rodney’s Saothrealain. On Brook Isle she could only sense the coming weather, never alter it.

But if that were the case, she no longer had to hide it. With gut-wrenching effort, she dragged her eyes up to meet Kael’s. Shadows swirled in those black voids like they were consuminghim from the inside out. Aisling turned her focus inward, too, scraping together enough calm to project. There was precious little to reach for now. She was too angry, too frightened, too overwhelmed. What she managed to find, she clung to, and sent towards Kael with all the force she could muster. Except the darkness that had overtaken him was far stronger; it snuffed out her calm like a candle in the wind.

Yalde hummed as he observed their exchange, the low sound a roll of thunder in his throat. It almost sounded sympathetic, like he pitied her.

“I’d like to make a trade.” Aisling straightened her spine and glared up at Yalde. This was what she’d come for; this was what fate had written for her. As hopeless as it seemed, she had to try.

Yalde cocked his head and his long hair shifted around him. “Hasn’t anyone ever warned you never to bargain with the Fae?”

“You’re not Fae,” Aisling challenged. “People try to bargain with gods all the time.” She’d heard her own father trying as much, once, tightly clasped hands pressed against his forehead at their kitchen table. Pleading, promising to give up his vices, if only his wife’s fractured mind could be made whole again. It had surprised her; their family was never particularly religious. His prayers weren’t answered though, and both he and Aisling had gone on pretending like he’d never asked.

“Clever girl.” He nodded his approval. He was enjoying this.

Aisling kept her gaze on him, if only to avoid letting it stray back to Kael. It was the only way she’d manage to keep the desperation out of her tone. “What do you want?”

“Kael is my most prized possession, the jewel in my crown. I would be a fool to part with him.”

“Everything has a price,” she pressed.

Yalde’s grip tightened subtly where his hand rested on the back of the throne, the muscles in his wrist ticking, before he loosened it once more and his mouth curled back into thatleering smile. “Let us discuss this further over a meal. Perhaps by the end of it, we’ll have come to an agreement.”

He gestured behind Aisling, and she turned. The wall of shadow they’d stepped through had vanished; now, she could see the entire length of the church. The fallen log pews were gone, replaced by a narrow banquet table. Those shrouded figures sat hunched in chairs around it, leaving just three seats open at the table’s head.

A strong shove to her shoulder made Aisling stumble, nearly losing her balance. Kael had risen from the throne and descended from the dais, and the straight path he walked blindly put her directly in his way. As he passed her by, his shoulder had clipped hers. He didn’t react, but it knocked the breath out of Aisling and doused the spark inside of her. She tried to remind herself that he didn’t see her, that he hadn’t even registered her presence, but it didn’t stop the hot tears from blurring her vision.

Kael moved regally, chest proud and chin high, still every bit the King of the Unseelie Court. Yalde followed close behind, pulling out the chair at the end of the table and guiding Kael down into its seat. Then, he pulled out the chair to Kael’s right and beckoned Aisling over.

“Come now,” he chided gently when he saw her shining eyes. “No need for tears, sweetling. Join us.”

Hurt tugged at her heart, and its pull threatened to send her thoughts back into the dark place she’d been steadily trying to claw her way out of. Resigned, she moved toward the empty chair and sat. Yalde pushed it in, then took his own seat directly across from her.

The space was staged for a banquet far grander than this. Formal place settings were laid out at every seat, but the chalices were dry. Ornate trays were lined up end-to-end down the center of the table, all empty save for one laden with dark, witheredfruits. Aisling’s empty stomach turned. She hadn’t thought about food since arriving in Elowas.

Yalde nodded towards the fruit. “Try one.”

Aisling shook her head, imagining what Rodney would say. If he’d been so reticent to allow her to eat in the Wild, surely he would outright forbid it here in the god realm. Ignoring her protest, Yalde reached out and palmed one of the fruits. He split it open easily, then laid the halves on Aisling’s plate. The flesh inside was ruby red and full of plump arils like a pomegranate. It smelled sickly sweet, almost rotten. It made her mouth water.

After a moment of observing her, Yalde sat back in his chair. “You share the same sort of hunger, you and the king.”

“Do we,” Aisling said, voice flat in an effort to hide the way her breath wavered.

He hummed, then cracked a wide and wicked smile. “Very much. I smell it on you; you reek of it. The hunger to be more—more than what was put upon you. To subvert what is expected of you. The Red Woman never wanted to be the Red Woman.”

Aisling clenched her jaw. The blindfolded god seemed to see everything; she hated how right he was. But instead of agreeing, she said, “I’ve grown to appreciate the title.”

“When it benefits you.”

“It has never benefitted me,” Aisling snapped, surprising even herself with the force behind her words. She’d been at the mercy of her prophecy since the Shadowwood Mother read it to her that night in the heart of the thicket. It had already taken so much, and she had so little left to give.

Yalde was only amused by her tone. “I can offer you the chance to be that ‘more’ you so desperately want to be. As I’ve done for him.”

“You’ve made him a captive of his own shadows.” The ember that Kael’s indifference to her had doused was glowing again, coming back to life. She dug her fingers into her thighs beneaththe table, hard enough to bruise despite the way they still trembled.

“I’ve done no such thing,” Yalde countered. “I’ve merely allowed him the space for his magic to reach its fullest potential.”

“You’ve fed the shadows’ hunger, not Kael’s.” Black ribbons swirled around her, agitated by their mention.

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