Page 49 of The Shadowbound and the False God

She shook her head, grateful that at least the dizziness that clung to her had almost abated entirely. Her voice came out stronger, surer, when she said, “We made a deal.”

“Yes, yes.” Yalde waved a hand dismissively. The movement nearly parted his cloak again to display that galaxy-filled void Aisling had been so tempted by. “And I will uphold my end of it, just as you did yours. Remind me once more what it is that you want.”

“You know what I want.” Aisling couldn’t keep her gaze from falling to Kael beside her. The shadows that wreathed his arms surged when she looked at him. They crawled down his wrist to wrap around his fingers above the set of silver rings he wore. Lyre had slid those on, one by one, before they’d burned his body.

“Him? Still?” Yalde scoffed. “I could give you so much more. Power, a longer life…is that not what all humans desire?”

“I want Kael.”

He was unconvinced. He took another leisurely sip of aneiydh, rolling it around in his mouth to savor its taste before speaking again. “I could give you so much more than your affinity: real, true magic. You could conjure whatever you’d like in the blink of an eye, have anything you desire at your fingertips.”

“Tell me what you want for him,” Aisling demanded.

“Did I not already refuse your offer of a trade?” Yalde asked as he swirled the chalice with his third hand.

“We have a Weaver who can Create anything you’d like.” Aisling recalled Lyre’s words and added, “Something powerful for something powerful.”

Yalde’s thin lips curled, amused by Aisling’s suggestion. “My dear girl, I can touch the night sky. I consume stars, devour souls. There is nothing more powerful than I, and nothing I enjoy more than my pretty plaything. There is not a single thing, Created or otherwise, that I would deem a worthy trade. But I do applaud you for trying; it was a valiant effort, truly. And most entertaining for me.”

“But you said—” she began to protest. Everything she’d gone through, fought through—it couldn’t all have been for nothing.It couldn’t have been.

“I said that if you played my game and solved my riddle, I would allow you to make another offer for your beloved king’s freedom. That, you have done.”

A hollowness bloomed in Aisling’s core that spread, ice-cold, down her limbs. In the time it had taken her to navigate Yalde’s trials, she had twisted his promise into one of acceptance. But he was right: a discussion was all he’d agreed to. He’d been toying with her all along. He was never going to give up Kael, not willingly. She sagged against the back of her chair, shattered. All the hope, all the determination that had gotten her to this point, was stripped away in an instant.

But the spark of anger she allowed to remain, letting it slowly ignite into a fiery rage that scorched away the frigid feeling of betrayal. She had worked so hard to dampen that spark since killing Kael in The Cut, but no more. It surprised her just how much it sharpened her focus, calling her scattered thoughts back into order. It was a powerful thing, rage, and something in Aisling hardened as she leaned into it.

She’d outsmarted the god four times already; he wasn’t infallible. And she wouldn’t let him win now.You have everything you need,the Silver Saints had insisted. Finally, she understood just how true that was.

Aisling wasn’t sure whether Yalde already knew Kael’s full, true name—had already used it, even—but even if he did, or had, she wouldn’t shout it now. It was his, wastheirs, those syllables too precious and intimate to utter any louder than a whisper. A soft murmur. She would say it quietly, carefully, and so that only he could hear. Which meant that she needed to get closer, and get him alone. She hadn’t a clue whether it would be enough to get through to him now, to reach whatever sliver of him was left beneath the shadows, but she had to try.

The Red Woman would try.

“You know why he’s important to me,” Aisling said. “Why is he so important to you?”

“Besides being pleasant to look at?” Yalde reached out and tugged Kael’s earring gently, almost lovingly. The exchange made Aisling queasy. “He is terribly strong; even more so now that I possess all of him. I poured much of myself into him, Aisling. He flourished as my magic’s vessel, despite perceptions to the contrary.”

There was a hidden implication there, an unspoken plan threaded through Yalde’s words. He’d chosen Kael for a reason, had groomed and guided him to give himself over to the religion, to the magic, for a reason.

“Why?” She was unable to stop herself from asking the question, despite being afraid of its answer. Tension rippled across her shoulders to think of Kael having only ever been Yalde’s unwitting pawn. She could relate to the feeling all too well. But just as she was trying her best to take back some of herself from the prophecy, she wanted,needed, to help him do the same.

Yalde’s grin twisted into a bitter, spiteful expression.

“For too long I have been trapped here in this broken realm, only able to reach as far into Wyldraíocht as my vessels allow. Only able to reap what little worship they sow for me. It is nolonger enough. Kael is the key—he has always been the key. He’s grown our shadows so strong.” As Yalde gazed at Kael, Aisling had to dig her fingertips into her arms to stop herself reaching out to take his hand. She wanted to leap to her feet, to put herself between them. To protect him from Yalde’s hungry, eyeless stare. But she stayed put.

After a beat, Yalde continued, “Just as your precious Merak destroyed Elowas, I will shatter Wyldraíocht. There will no longer be a divide betweenthereandhere—both realms will collapse into one another. And with our shadows I will bind them all. The Shadowbound will serve me unconditionally.”

Aisling pictured Rodney and Raif, both with unseeing, shadow-filled eyes. Elasha’s radiant skin marred by black veins and the child in her stomach growing into something monstrous. She imagined that swirling kaleidoscope of faeries she’d been swept up in on Nocturne, each one beautiful and grotesque in their own right, all overcome by twisting ribbons of shadow. She shivered.

Yalde rose gracefully from his seat and circled around behind Kael, letting long fingers drift over his rigid shoulders. “You know,” he purred, “times have changed. Worship now is not what it used to be. I do so miss the early days, before I was ever the Low One and Aethar. Prayers, piousness—they pale in comparison to the benedictions I used to receive. To the raw power the old sects so lovingly gave me.”

He paused, toying with the shadows that snaked up from Kael’s form to greet him. It was so clear then that Kael had never been their master. The way they danced for Yalde, performed for him, caressed him—even when Kael had been in control, the magic never behaved this way. The shadows may have obeyed him, but theyfollowedYalde.

He was waiting for Aisling to give some sort of response, but she refused; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction ofhumoring his theatrics. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on Kael’s blackened ones. The dark, thread-thin veins that spiderwebbed beneath his pale skin were so much more prominent there, around his eyes. On the left side of his face they disappeared into the scarred, ruined flesh, but on the right side, they stood out so starkly they nearly looked painted on.

When Aisling remained silent, Yalde asked, “Have you any idea of the history of humans and Fae? Just why the Veil was created to separate your realms?”

Aisling recalled, vaguely, a book Kael had given her when she’d been his prisoner on the creation and protection of Thin Places. A book she hadn’t read more than a few pages of. “The Unseelie Court mandated it.”

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