Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

MIRELLA

“ S o, anyway,” Ginhad said, “I told him I wasn’t interested in anything serious, but his were is a snake, and not to be predictable but it was hard to say no to that kind of flexibility. Mirella, are you even listening?”

I jerked at the sound of my name. Tearing my gaze from the chamber’s doors, I met Ginhad’s disgruntled stare across the table where Rane had accused me of being picky about toast.

“I’m sorry,” I said, grasping at the conversation I’d been neglecting. “Um. You met a man at last night’s feast.”

Ginhad sighed. “I didn’t meet him. I’ve known him for twenty years.” He waved a hand. “I mean, I met his snake, but whatever. Why are you so worried about Rane?”

I couldn’t help glancing at the doors. “Andrin was really angry when we woke and Rane was gone.” Andrin and I had searched the Embervale from top to bottom, enlisting the help of hungover servants and half-dressed knights along the way. And we’d come up emptyhanded.

Rane had been gone for hours. Now, it was nearing lunch, and there was still no sign of him. Andrin had spent the morning alternating between curse-laden pacing in the chamber and ascending the roof to stare down at the meadow. Moments ago, he’d left again for the castle’s tallest spire.

“Rane will be all right,” Ginhad said, his eyes softening. “He’s safe from the shadows as long as he stays in the air.”

That was the problem. Andrin was convinced Rane had gone to the forest to eat shadows. If Rane didn’t return soon, I knew nothing could stop Andrin from going after him.

I pushed my chair back and stood. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Ginhad frowned. “That’s exactly what you should do. You’re a—” Clamping his mouth shut, he glanced around. “You’re a werek ,” he said in a lower voice. “It’s a rare gift.”

Confusion swamped me. “Should I keep it a secret?”

His brow furrowed as he appeared to think it over. “I don’t know. It feels like it should be a secret.”

The doors flew open, and Elodie rushed in. “Ginhad! Oh, thank the gods, I found you.”

“What is it?” he asked, jumping to his feet and rushing to her. “Did Lord Rane return?”

“No. Lord Lerendyl and Lord Sartris never stopped drinking last night. Now they’re in the armory sword fighting.”

Ginhad opened his mouth.

“Actual swords,” she said quickly.

“Oh my.” Ginhad looked at me.

“Go,” I told him. “I’ll be all right here.”

He flashed a grateful smile before hurrying from the chamber with Elodie on his heels. As the doors swung shut behind them, a heavy silence fell.

And my fears returned. Why would Rane leave the Embervale? He knew Andrin would worry—and possibly follow.

Whirling, I went to the bedchamber and threw open the doors to the balcony. The seething blackness of the Edelfen smeared over the meadow like oil. The stretch of rolling land I’d crossed the day Rane stole me from the Covenant was gone, its bright leaves and green grass buried under impenetrable shadow.

I gripped the balcony railing as I gazed over the roiling black landscape. There wasn’t enough unspoiled land left for Andrin to cast an illusion. Valina, Yendorn, and Finian were truly housebound.

But I could change it. My heart sped up. If I bonded with Rane, I could lead him through the shadows to Purecliff and help him search for the Kree. But could I trust him to release the bond once we found it?

Immediately, the memory of the chain winding around his wrist formed in my mind. Of course I could trust him. I’d seen his enslavement through his eyes. Had felt the lash on my back. If I bonded with him, he’d let me go.

The only question was, did I want him to? And if he did, where would I go? Not to Purecliff. But I couldn’t stay in Ishulum, either. Even if Andrin and Rane wanted me to remain, I was mortal—and they were not. I would grow old while they stayed the same, their bodies tall and strong.

A gust of wind whipped across the balcony, rattling the doors behind me. A second later, a massive crow swooped through the air with a loud caw .

Relief coursed through me, and I leaned over the railing. Before I could call out to Rane, a second large crow dove from the sky. Claws out, it slammed into the first crow. They tumbled through the sky, spinning and pecking at each other in a flurry of feathers.

My heart seized in my chest as the crows battled in the air. They screamed, clashing over and over. Blood spurted from their wounds, droplets raining onto the balcony.

The sound of the main chamber’s doors opening made me spin around. It was Ginhad or Andrin. Grabbing my skirts, I rushed through the bedchamber.

“Help!” I cried, running through the doorway. Confusion brought me to a sudden halt. Rane stood a short distance away, his hair tangled around his shoulders. His clothes were ripped, his face pale.

And his eyes were solid black.

“You would take him from me,” he said through clenched teeth.

Fear sank icy claws into my skin. Heart thumping, I swallowed against a dry throat. “What happened, Rane?”

“You,” he snarled. He advanced slowly, moving with a fluid elegance at odds with the hatred twisting his features. “Andrin is mine. He has always been mine.”

“I-I know,” I said, easing back. But it didn’t matter where I went. He blocked the path to the door. I lifted my hands. “Let’s just talk, and?—”

The room blurred and then my back slammed into the wall. My head bounced off the stone, and dizziness swept me. He’d moved so quickly. And he had me now, his fingers biting into my arms and his teeth bared in my face.

“Look at me,” he barked, a thousand voices rippling from his throat. Black eyes bored into mine as he tightened his grip. “This land is mine. You should have stayed away.”

“Rane, please,” I whispered, cold spreading down my arms. “This isn’t you.”

He slammed me into the wall, forcing a grunt from me. My skirts fluttered around my ankles. Something blunt slapped gently against my thigh.

My knife. True to his word, Ginhad had kept silent about it, and I’d taken to tucking it into my pocket every morning.

“Andrin is mine,” Rane growled. “And you’ll die as you should have from the beginning.”

Sliding my hand into my pocket, I gripped the knife’s hilt. One chance. I only had one chance to strike. And I’d have to be quick.

Rane moved his hand to my neck. Squeezing, he stared down at me with cold, lifeless eyes. His fingers were iron bands around my throat. My lungs burned, and the room behind him went blurry as my vision narrowed to Rane’s face. Crushing pressure spread through my neck and pounded up my face.

I tightened my grip on the knife. But I released it as I yanked my hand from my pocket. With my last, sputtering breath, I grabbed Rane’s face in both hands and let light build under my palms.

This isn’t you. I poured the words into my hands, golden light blazing between my fingers. As his eyes widened, I stroked my thumbs over his cheekbones. Show me who you are.

I closed my eyes—and entered his.

Andrin running down a beach, his hair waving behind him like a flag and his bare feet kicking up sand.

Rane on a galloping horse, the reins in his hands and joy coursing through him. It was like flying on land.

Squares of land beneath him, the people on the ground like children’s toys. He was free when he was in the air.

Tumbling leaves.

A tall woman with black hair and a sweet singing voice. Her features were blurry. His mother. He couldn’t recall her face.

Andrin kicking his foot under the table, then hiding a smile. The prince shared his lessons. At night, Andrin secretly taught him how to read.

Tall trees in a dazzling forest.

A small cabin nestled against a mountainside, a fire roaring in its hearth.

The tart taste of berries exploding on his tongue.

Tears burning his throat as Othor chanted in the Old Language, removing the chains he’d worn for a century.

Stacks of books next to a big window.

A pair of golden eyes and a stubborn chin. Full lips and a dusting of golden freckles over the bridge of a nose he’d dearly love to kiss.

Andrin bent over his desk, a quill tucked behind his ear and his braid studded with bellclovers. The man he loved.

Me sitting up slowly on the couch next to the bed, my nipples thrusting against my white nightgown as the sunlit window behind me showed him everything. The woman he was falling for.

Shadows clearing.

A spark of light.

“Mirella,” Rane gasped.

My eyes snapped open. Rane stared at me, his hands on my wrists and his purple eyes shining with tears. His chest heaved, his breaths ragged and loud in the quiet chamber. A tear welled and then rolled down his cheek.

Smiling, I brushed it away, then cupped his jaw. “There you are, Rane Laruthian,” I murmured.

A sob broke from him. He captured my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist. Then he buried his face in my neck and wept, his big body shaking.

“I wasn’t strong enough,” he rasped. “The forest spoke to me, and…I listened.”

“It’s all right,” I said, stroking his hair. He leaned into me, and by some mutual, unspoken agreement, we slid to the floor. I leaned against the wall, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head on my breast.

“I gave in to the darkness,” he said, shame in his voice.

“No.” I stroked his hair away from his face. “You came back to the light.”