Page 78 of Bound to the Shadow Queen
“Keep the patrols doubled,” I said, instead of answering him. “And send out a patrol at first light to take care of whatever is left in the forest, tell them to burn it down if they have to.”
The hum of the dagger’s wild mana lingered against my palm, vibrating faintly, and refusing to be ignored. Like her.
Eryx inclined his head, though his gaze lingered on me with unspoken questions—ones he was wise enough not to voice.
We parted ways in the courtyard, his boots ringing against the frost-hardened stone. I blew a long whistle, calling my wolves back from their hunt. They bounded in through the gates, their maws dripping with the blood of frostbeasts.
The scent of it clung to the air, acrid and raw, following us through the palace halls.
The wards had held for all the night’s violence. It should have been a relief, but unease coiled tighter in my chest.
Something was still out there testing our defenses. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
My mana flared in response, ice rushing through my veins, begging for a release. Time. I needed time. But it was clearer than ever that time was something I was running out of.
The thought followed me all the way to my rooms, quietly pressing in on all sides until?—
Laughter. Bright, high, cackling laughter spilled down the corridor like a wave breaking free from the tide.
I froze.
The sound was so wildly out of place for this night, and this part of the palace, that it took me a moment to register the other sounds that followed.
The voices that drifted from my wife’s suites. The distinctly male voice… My wolves’ ears flicked forward, and something twisted low in my gut.
When I pushed open her chamber door, the sound hit me full force.
Everly was sprawled across her chaise lounge, cheeks flushed, navy hair tumbling in disarray. Her gown was wrinkled as though she’d tried to wrestle it into submission and lost. A goblet dangled from her fingers, still half full. Noerwyn was collapsed beside her, laughing so hard she nearly slid to the floor.
Soren leaned against the mantle, his normally sharp composure undone, eyes glinting with amusement as he raised a nearly empty bottle of Emberkiss whiskey in salute.
And Nevara, the Visionary herself, was perched cross-legged on the rug, her staff discarded in the corner, shoulders shaking with unrestrained laughter.
The table between them was littered with empty bottles, crumbs of sugared cakes, and cards scattered like fallen leaves.
All four turned when I entered.
Everly blinked up at me, slow and unbothered, a smile tugging at her mouth that was far too reckless, far too unguarded for every circumstance we found ourselves in. Her skathryn was fastened around her wrist like a clunky bracelet, fast asleep.
I glared down at Lumen who had the decency to look mildly ashamed. Then I glanced back at my oldest friend, who did not possess that same decency.
Soren parted his lips to speak, but Noerwyn cut him off.
“Wait, let me this time.” She cleared her throat. “The Frostgrave King stands in the doorway. His hair is windswept and his face is angry.”
Nevara’s lips pulled up into a rare expression of mirth, and I blinked. “Well, thank the Shard Mother you were here to protect her.”
“I had Lumen for that.” My wife clumsily got to her feet while the wolf in question stood straighter. “He is a noble palace guard puppy.”
I had seen thatguard puppyrip monsters three times his size to shreds in the span of a single heartbeat, but now he nuzzled against her leg like he approved of her ridiculous title.
My Visionary only gave a graceful half shrug.
“I Saw the evening going…thusly.” Nevara pronounced each word slowly and with precision, accompanying the statement with a sage nod.
I tried to remember the last time I had seen her over-imbibe. Nearly a decade ago, when we were both grieving but still too naive to understand the consequences of the day at the Pass. When the monsters were still just passing nightmares and it almost felt like we had won.
Everly stepped closer to me, tilting her head while she dragged her gaze along my features. Scrutinizing me. “You’re always so angry.”
