Page 6 of Shadebound
The open mouth of the carriage yawned ahead, a chamber of velvet shadow. And just before it claimed me—just before I vanished into its cold hollow—someone else slammed into view.
Draven.
My little brother’s hand shot out, fingers latching on with a grip that trembled. His brow furrowed, but his jaw was set. His dark eyes locked with mine, and for a moment, I saw our father in his face—only softer, not yet hardened by the world.
Not yet hopeless about my shadebound fate.
I didn’t shout. He’d been deaf from birth, and I knew better than to waste time on pointless endeavours. Instead, I fought the pull of the magic just hard enough to move my hands, straining against the force wrapping my limbs, and signed for him tolet go. It took effort. It cost me more energy than I’d have cared to admit. But I needed him to understand—if he held on, he’d be dragged down with me.
And I could not drag another sibling to death.
But he wouldn’t let go. Of course he wouldn’t. Every Draconis since the dawn of creation had one thing in common—foolish stubbornness. Especially as teenagers.
The smoke coiled around him too, winding higher with every breath. I moved without thinking, without caring for my father’s earlier warning about my magic. My hands shot forward, shadows spilling from my skin in thick ribbons. They wrapped fast around Draven’s waist, gripping tight to his black jeans and striped white jumper, trying to pull him back from the force dragging us forward.
They held with all the strength I could push into them at the moment, but it wasn’tenough.
Even Beelzebub appeared beside me, summoned by instinct rather than command. Her sleek cat-like form twisted out of my shadows, her claws bared and gleaming with an edge that could cut through the soul of any enemy I faced. She struck at the magic. Again.Again.
They met no resistance. Not even a scratch.
The magic didn’t even notice her. It did nothing but swat her away until she hissed and vanished. No longer interested in defending her master.
The rest of my shadows tried to dig in, but the pull grew worse. Each limb strained. My knees bent. My coat pulled tight across my back.
“Fuck.”I hissed as my feet scraped across the path, arms jolted with the sudden lurch.
Shadows flared uselessly around us, twisting and flailing against an enemy they couldn’t touch.With one last pull, a force yanked us into the carriage. My case thrown in too. The world blinked away, replaced by the odd press of velvet and bone. My shoulder struck the seatback with a jolt that rattled through my spine, Draven collapsing opposite me in a heap of gangly limbs and shocked silence.
For a breath, the air held still again. Then I took it all in. The deep purple seats were hard beneath the fabric, lined with seams that looked hand-stitched and too neat for something so deliciously morbid. Smoke seeped through cracks I couldn’t see, drifting along the bone walls. There were no lanterns, only the faint inner glow of the magic that powered it.
The door groaned and sealed with a click.
I looked up as my spine stiffened. Draven smirked in his seat, dark eyes wide, but not wide enough considering the danger he was now in.
Without thinking, I leant forward and reached for his hand. Until I remembered he needed the bloody things to talk to me.
To respond to my questions about his reckless, idiotic decision to throw himself towards a death-bound carriage like it was some kind ofgame.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I snarled, signing it too.
The little—in theory, he was nearly half a foot taller than my five-foot-seven—idiot grinned.
Grinned.
Instantly, I sank back into my seat. The carriage jolted slightly as we were pulled to the last place I wanted my innocent brother to go to.
The last placeIwanted to go.
You know what this means, right?I signed, as I tried not to worry more about the reunion I was going to have than the fact I was being conscripted to fight.
He shook his head.
You’re going to Mors Academy with me, I explained.If I can’t get you sent home, then you’re trapped with me for the next hundred years until my sentence is complete.Or I died. But I didn’t feel the need to point that out.
He rolled his eyes, and I fought the urge to carve a hole into his head, to check he had a brain. The jury was out on that one.
Do you not understand me, Draven? I’m going to fight in a war for our homeland, and be turned into a weapon. This is a punishment, not a holiday.
