Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

MIRELLA

C hilly night air swirled around me as I stepped outside Ingaret’s half-timbered home. Pulling the wooden door shut behind me, I leaned against it and let my shoulders relax for the first time in hours.

The full moon cast a bright glow over the cobblestone street and the row of houses and shops. Quiet blanketed the village. Shutters were closed. No candles burned in the windows.

A baby’s cry drifted through the wood at my back. Seconds later, soft, feminine laughter joined it, followed by the low hum of a woman’s lullaby. The rhythmic creak of a rocking chair accompanied the gentle melody.

My eyelids drooped. The strap of my satchel cut into my neck, but I lacked the energy to adjust it. Sweat cooled on my skin. The frigid night air was a soothing relief on my damp hairline and sore muscles. Ingaret had been too distracted by pain to notice when I smoothed a blistering hot hand over her forehead. My gift worked better on animals. I never understood why, and I didn’t have anyone to ask. Maybe it had something to do with the human will. Animals were simpler. They came without the prejudices and obstinacy of men. But childbirth had a way of obliterating a person’s will. I’d taken enough of Ingaret’s fatigue to help her rally and then push the babe from her body.

The child was healthy, and Ingaret and her blacksmith husband were happy to have a son join their daughter. Births were treacherous, but this one had ended well.

At least the night had ended well for someone . Certainly not me.

But that was a bad way to look at it. Gods, maybe I was as selfish as my father claimed, worrying about my unwanted betrothal moments after helping new life enter the world.

Exhaustion dragged my head lower. I stared at the toes of my boots peeking from under my skirts. My hair lay over my shoulder in the tangled braid I hastily arranged upon arriving in the village. As the steady squeak of the rocking chair continued, the confrontation with my father played through my mind. I couldn’t marry Lord Vilgot. I wouldn’t . But how could I escape the future my father had planned for me? He was powerful enough to carry out his threat. If I tried to run, he would find me. My shadow magic was no match for his. And my healing magic was no help. It wasn’t like I could bandage or splint my way out of ending up the fifth Lady of Midpeak.

A scuffling sound jerked my head up. Ingaret’s husband, Gerren, rounded the corner of the house. Moonlight silvered his broad shoulders. His linen shirt was open at the neck, exposing a thick mat of curly black hair. The hair on his head and jaw was just as thick and dark.

“My lady,” he said, stopping a few steps away. “It’s late. I’ll escort you back to the fortress.”

I straightened from the door, my fatigue fleeing as I repositioned my satchel so the strap rested more comfortably across my chest. “Thank you, Gerren, but that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine on my own.” And a lot faster than I’d be with him. The climb to Purecliff took the better part of an hour. If I traveled by shadow, I could be home in ten minutes.

Gerren’s dark brows pulled together. “Ingaret will have my hide if I let the Lady of Purecliff walk home unattended.”

“She’ll be well-occupied over the next day or so,” I said, stepping away from the door. “The babe is latching nicely, but I left a recipe for barley soup if Ingaret’s milk supply starts to dwindle. And Aedith can always get a message to me if you need any help. Good night…and congratulations.” I headed down the street, leaving Gerren behind.

The timbered houses loomed over the cobblestones, their stone bases painted white with lime. The scent of woodsmoke and manure mixed in the air. Shadows huddled in doorways and under flower boxes. But it was too risky to step into one within view of the village. It only took one baker or tanner visiting the privy to expose my secrets.

As I passed the last house, the cobblestones opened onto a dirt cart path with deep ruts down the center. A few steps later, I rounded a bend, and my father’s fortress came into view. Purecliff soared against the sky, its battlements black against the round disc of the moon behind it.

Pausing in the road, I looked over my shoulder. Gerren was gone. The village slept. Just a few more steps, and I could slip into the shadows and seek my bed. I faced forward.

Gerren stood in front of me, his bulk blocking the path.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said. As I drew breath to scream, he pulled his fist back and clipped my jaw. The world spun, and the ground rushed up.

Just before I struck the dirt, blackness claimed me.

Consciousness returned in a rush of pain and nausea.

Something hard dug into my gut, knocking the wind from me as I bumped up and down. Leaves crunched, and a man’s labored breaths filled my ears.

Gerren. Anger blazed in my chest. The blacksmith had knocked me out, and now he carried me on his shoulder like a sack of grain. My head pounded, the pressure behind my eyes like someone attempting to pop them out from inside my skull. Agony throbbed in my shoulders. The world was a gray haze.

Because Gerren had put a sack over my head. My hands were bound behind my back. My tongue pressed against something thick and foul-tasting. The horrible bumping continued. Up and down, up and down. With every jolt, pain exploded in my gut. Vomit burned my throat.

My eyes watered, and a whimper escaped me. Whatever happened, I could not puke. Not with cloth filling my mouth. More cloth wrapped around my head, holding the wad of fabric between my stretched lips. My head dangled toward the ground as Gerren continued his breathless jog.

Sucking air through my nose, I released the loudest scream I could muster.

Gerren kept running, his thick arm clamped around my hips. Fear and frustration formed a noxious cloud in my chest. The gag bit into my cheeks. The cloth in my mouth adhered to my tongue, which felt twice its normal size.

I screamed again, but the sound was pitiful. Why was Gerren doing this? Aedith’s words about the bad winter and needing money ran through my head. Did Gerren intend to hold me for ransom? If so, it was a foolish plan. My father would pay, but he’d also make sure Gerren died a long, painful death.

Finally, Gerren stopped, and panic shot through me as he stooped and then tipped me off his shoulder. My knees buckled as my feet struck the ground.

“Stay quiet,” Gerren grunted, catching me before I could fall. My stomach sloshed, and dizziness swept me as he gripped my shoulders with rough hands. I blinked furiously, my world reduced to the sack’s gray interior.

Then it disappeared, and I stood in Gerren’s grip, his fingers biting into my upper arms. Blue sheened his face and stained the leaves scattered on the ground. The same shade spread over Gerren’s shirt, which gaped wider as he struggled to catch his breath.

Blue was everywhere. Too much of it. I turned my head—and froze.

The Covenant shimmered less than ten feet away, the blue wall of magic rising as high as Purecliff’s towers. The forest lay behind me. But no trees grew in front of the Covenant. The land around the boundary was flat and barren, the soil scorched by undiluted magic. Nothing thrived near the boundary, which killed mortals who attempted to cross it. Power filled the air, currents of raw energy licking over my skin.

Tasting me. My heart pounded as the memory of my father’s voice filled my head. You must never, ever venture close to the boundary, Mirella. The elves hoard their power. They kill those they deem unworthy of it.

Under other circumstances, I might have dismissed his claims. After all, the elves had promised to leave humanity alone when they abandoned Andulum. But Autumn was different. It was hidden, its shadows too thick to penetrate even from the top of Purecliff. And every so often, someone from the village went missing…

Gerren shuffled his feet, drawing my gaze to his face. Sweat rolled down his temple and into his beard as he stared at the barrier. His nostrils were flared, and his pulse thudded in his throat. He drew a ragged breath, his eyes darting back and forth as if he searched for something.

No. He waited for something.

Chills raced down my spine. What in the name of the gods was Gerren doing? We had to leave. Now.

I squirmed against his grip. When he looked at me, I tipped my head toward the valley behind us. “We have to go,” I tried to say, but my words emerged as a long, unintelligible moan.

Gerren spun me around, and my panic spiked higher until I felt him fumbling with the tie around my wrists. Seconds later, my arms were free. By some miracle, I’d kept my satchel, the leather a familiar weight against my hip.

My arms were useless, though, everything from my shoulders to my fingers numb from lack of blood flow.

Gerren spun me back, his big hand like a manacle around my bicep. He used his free hand to jerk the gag down. “Stay quiet, or I’ll hit you again.”

I spit the cloth from my mouth. “Are you out of your mind? We can’t stay here!”

His expression darkened as he squeezed my arm. “Did you hear what I said?”

“You’ll get us both killed! Your brother-in-law disappeared near the Covenant.”

Gerren jerked me closer, a wild look in his eyes. “You think I don’t know that? I was with him when they came.”

I stilled, my heart trying to pound from my chest. “Who’s they?”

He looked at the Covenant, his face washed with blue. He was a big man—a blacksmith with pie plate-sized hands and shoulders as broad as a doorway. He’d been rock-solid throughout Ingaret’s labors, fetching clean linens and stoking the fire in between comforting his wife. But now, his lower lip trembled, and terror swam in his dark eyes.

“The shadows,” he whispered. “They said…”

Chills raced down my spine. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to run. “What did they say?” I asked. “Gerren?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Then he turned back to me and shook me hard. “Just…shut up, all right? I have to do this.”

My teeth clicked together, and fear put a whimper in my throat. But I had to get away. If Gerren released me, I could dart into the nearest shadow and disappear.

“I delivered your child,” I said, desperation rising. “I saved your wife from dying with the babe inside her. And this is how you thank me?”

Gerren swallowed hard. Something like regret flickered in his eyes. “I’m…” he began, then whipped his head toward the Covenant once more.

The energy in the air thickened, lifting the hair on my nape. Dread coiled low in my gut. Behind the barrier, something moved.

Another whimper escaped me. This time, Gerren ignored it as he kept his gaze fastened on the Covenant.

My knees weakened as I peered at the wall of elven magic. Shadows swirled behind the barrier. Indistinct shapes formed and then danced, sliding around each other. Power throbbed like a beating heart. Something was coming.

A bird’s caw split the air. Shadows slid under the Covenant, long fingers of pitch-black scrabbling over the ground toward Gerren and me.

Gerren gave a hoarse, broken cry. Shaking, he mumbled to himself. “It’s not worth it. Oh gods…”

Another caw rang out. The shadows behind the Covenant parted, then rolled away from the center, leaving a gap.

An elf stepped into it, his gaze fixed on me.

My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t move. Could hardly breathe as I stared at the elf. Tall and pale, his features were handsome but arrogant. Long, black hair streamed over one shoulder, the ends cascading to his waist. His black shirt opened in a wide vee, revealing a smooth, muscular chest. A black cloak fastened with ornate silver clasps flowed to his ankles. Tapered ears poked from his long hair. Intricate tattoos climbed up his neck and circled his throat.

But his eyes were his most arresting feature. As purple as amethysts, they glowed more brightly than the Covenant.

And they shone with unmistakable malice.

A strangled gasp escaped my lips.

The elf smiled. I tensed, waiting for him to step through the Covenant. He’d shed his magic the moment he set foot in Andulum. That was part of the bargain his kind made after the Rebellion.

More shadows leaked under the boundary, the silky ribbons curling over the ground.

That wasn’t part of the bargain. Ishulum’s magic was never supposed to encroach on human soil. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.

The elf held my stare a beat longer before running his bright purple gaze down my body in a slow, deliberate sweep.

Heat followed the path of his inspection, as if he’d reached through the Covenant and stroked a warm palm over my skin. Just as slowly, he raked his gaze upward, lingering on my breasts and the pulse fluttering in my neck.

My nipples tightened, and heat built between my legs. I clenched my fists, fighting the arousal churning inside me. It was his doing. The elf was obviously using some kind of dark, malevolent magic to make me respond despite my fear.

“They’re coming,” Gerren croaked.

I startled, then looked up at him. He searched the Covenant, more sweat rolling down his face. His eyes darted back and forth, landing everywhere but the elf.

Because Gerren didn’t see him, I realized. The elven blood that flowed through my veins allowed me to peer through the Covenant. But Gerren was wholly human, his senses limited to the world on his side of the barrier.

“We had a deal, blacksmith,” the elf called, his voice silky as it drifted through the barrier.

Gerren stiffened. He glanced at me, then squinted as he looked in the elf’s direction. Gerren cleared his throat. “You promised to return my wife’s brother.”

The shadows writhed on either side of the elf, but they didn’t touch him. He stood motionless, his expression dispassionate as he addressed Gerren. “I’ll return the hunter.” Purple eyes flicked to mine. “After you hand over Mirella of Purecliff.”

My heart lodged in my throat. “N-No,” I said, turning to Gerren. “You can’t. It’ll kill me. Please, don’t?—”

“Shut up!” he snarled, dragging me forward. My skirts tangled around my legs, and I would have fallen if not for Gerren’s painful grip on my arm. Blue light stung my eyes as we neared the Covenant. As if they sensed us, the shadows on the ground stretched toward us like snakes.

“Stop!” I cried, digging in my heels. “Who will tend your babe if the child gets sick?”

Gerren ignored me as he clamped an arm around my waist and hauled me off my feet. He was going to shove me through the Covenant!

I clawed at his arm, wings of panic beating in my chest. “Let me go! Please, Gerren, don’t do this!”

On the other side of the Covenant, the elf’s eyes lit up with anticipation. He stretched out a hand.

“No!” I screamed.

With a grunt, Gerren ripped my hand away from his arm and shoved me into the boundary.

Magic brushed my skin, a thousand warm fingers trailing caresses as I stumbled over the threshold and into the elf’s arms.

He caught me against him, and a cruel smile curved his lips as he grasped my jaw with long, elegant fingers. “Don’t fight me, little human,” he whispered. “You won’t like what happens.”

My chest heaved, and my head spun as I grappled with the realization that I was still alive—and standing in Ishulum.

The tattoos around the elf’s neck began to move. Heart hammering, I watched as the ink came to life, some of it sliding down his neck and disappearing under his shirt. It emerged from under his cuff a second later, flowing like water spilling from a tap.

I tried to pull away, but the elf held me fast as the inky strands lengthened and then flowed onto me. Magic danced over my skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Helpless, I could only stand helplessly as the shadows slithered over my hand and circled my wrist. The other end locked around the elf’s wrist, tethering me to him with a shadowy length of rope between us.

The elf squeezed my jaw, drawing my gaze back to his. A few tattoos still wound around his throat. “Be a good girl,” he said, “and I won’t have to yank your leash.”

Pain and humiliation welled inside me. His fingers dug cruelly into my jaw, forcing my mouth wide. I wanted to close my eyes—to block out the nightmare I’d been thrust into—but I forced myself to hold his stare.

The elf’s eyes widened, something like delight flaring in the purple depths. “You hate me.” He leaned in, putting his mouth next to my ear. His black hair brushed my cheek, and the scent of pine and cloves swirled into my lungs. “If you knew how much that pleases me,” he murmured, “you’d never let me see it.”

I shivered, my heart pumping so hard I felt lightheaded. Over the elf’s shoulder, shadows huddled above the ground like smoky clouds.

“You promised to return Edrin!” Gerren shouted.

The elf drew back. Releasing me, he turned and strode a short distance away. The tether connecting us stretched, forcing me to follow or risk getting pulled off my feet. The shadowy length was black as night, but it felt as solid as a real rope.

The elf scooped a sack from the ground, then returned to the barrier. His long sheet of hair swung away from his shoulders as he tossed the sack through the Covenant. It landed in the dirt at Gerren’s feet with an ominous rattle.

My stomach clenched, a sickening suspicion forming in my mind.

“Come, Lady Mirella,” the elf said, tugging at the tether. “We have a long journey ahead of us.” He stalked away, his cloak flaring behind him. Shadows rolled from his path as he walked.

The rope went taut, and I lurched forward, my arm outstretched as I hurried to keep up. A hoarse cry made me look over my shoulder. Gerren had fallen to his knees, horror on his face as he stared into the sack.

Shadows rolled across the Covenant, obscuring my view of Andulum. The rope tugged at my wrist, and I faced forward as the elf lengthened his strides.

“Don’t dawdle, woman,” he said without turning around. “I am not a patient man.”