Page 7 of Bound to the Shadow Queen
He had to be lying.
“You have never let disobedience go unpunished,” I said quietly.
“Come now, Everly. You of all people know the importance of family. Why do you think I worked so hard to keep you alive?”
My lips parted, equal parts disbelief and fury.
“Yes, I’m sure my torture was a real burden onyou,” I spat.
A muscle clenched in his jaw.
“I did what I had to do in order to keep you alive.” Light flickered from the chandelier, painting the jagged edges of his onyx wings every shade of crimson, reminiscent of the blood that had swirled down the drain while he told me the pain was for my own good.
My fingers dug into the table, silvery talons piercing into the wood.
It shouldn’t have been surprising that he still believed that, but it scraped along the edges of a wound that would never quite heal—the self-righteous assurance from a male who would never understand that there were things far worse than death.
“Why did you bring me here?” I demanded.
Instead of answering, his eyes flickered to the door.
It took me a heartbeat too long to understand why. Footsteps pounded against the earth, the heavy, booted steps of a soldier moving with urgency.
I clambered to my feet just as a burst of mana threw open the door.
My pulse thundered through my veins. For a single wild moment, I thought that Draven had come. It was insane, yet still more plausible than the reality unfolding before me.
The mana that smelled of the forest and steel and my childhood, the obsidian wings shadowing the doorway. The soft cry of ‘Everly’ from a voice I never thought I would hear again.
And underneath it all…the impossible notion that my uncle had been telling the truth.
Because my husband hadn’t come for me.
My mother had.
Everly
My mother’sgrip was bruising.
It always had been. Her arms were two shades darker than mine, infinitely warm, peppered with battle scars, and strong enough to hold me together when the rest of the world was falling apart.
A warrior’s arms. That’s what she was: my uncle’s second-in-command. Hisstellari. Or she had been, but I still couldn’t figure out what in the shards-damned hells she was doing here now.
Muttered conversation passed over my head, so rapid I could hardly make it out past the thunderous beating of my heart.
“—supposed to wait for me.”
“—believed you dead.”
The arms around me stiffened. “Can you blame her?”
“Careful, Mirevyn.” My uncle’s tone was a warning at his twin’s impertinence, the same growl I had heard him use with countless members of the clan…but never with his sister.
I felt the rise and fall of my mother’s chest where my cheek was pressed against the cool surface of her flying leathers and the necklace she had worn for as long as I could remember.
My fingers found the pendant, its surface worn smooth from years of touch, and traced the familiar lines of the Drakmor rune.
Veyr.
