Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

RANE

A ndrin watched Othor leave, his brows drawn together in a tight frown. Several loose strands of copper-colored hair fell around his face. As Othor’s footsteps faded, Andrin’s broad shoulders lifted in a sigh.

“He’s angry,” he murmured.

“He’ll get over it.”

Andrin looked at me. “I know you have your differences with Othor. But he wants the same things we do. He’s worked tirelessly to preserve Autumn.”

And I haven’t? The question hovered on my tongue, eager to spill into the open. But Andrin hadn’t meant it like that. He never did, even if it felt that way sometimes.

Maybe all the time.

He was forever quick to defend Othor, who disliked me for…well, a lot of reasons. But if I had to pick one, I’d wager he disliked me for having Andrin’s ear. If not for the family connection between them, I might have suspected the High Priest resented me for laying claim to other parts of Andrin.

But Othor didn’t harbor any kind of forbidden attraction. I’d swear on it. In fact, I couldn’t have said whether he preferred men, women, or both. He never joined in any of the court’s more celebratory feasts. He’d never been connected to any nobles or castle staff. My spies reported that he went to bed alone, slept alone, and woke alone. Othor Verdalis was a block of ice.

“I don’t like that look,” Andrin said, pulling me from my thoughts.

“What look?”

“You’re scheming.”

I shook my head. “I’m not.” Unable to help myself, I added, “Othor probably is, though. He wants to question Lornlark’s daughter. You should be prepared for him to raise the issue before the Council.”

Aggravation flashed in Andrin’s blue eyes. “I gave Othor my answer. The issue is settled.”

“Not with Othor. He’s impatient. And as much as it pains me to admit it, he makes a good point. The Edelfen is changing.” Disquiet moved through me as I recalled the crows hopping from branch to branch on the long walk from the Covenant. “The shadows have spread, but they’ve also grown more powerful. We have Mirella. We should use her as quickly as possible.”

The irritation in Andrin’s eyes gave way to anger. “We shouldn’t have her. I rejected this idea the first time you brought it up. You disobeyed me, Rane, and you put yourself in unreasonable danger while doing it.”

Familiar exasperation rose within me. “The danger was manageable. The shadows hold no dominion over the sky.”

Anger snapped in Andrin’s eyes. “Yes, but I hold dominion over you. And I told you no . You’ve undermined my authority before the whole court.”

“And you punished me for it,” I said. Gods, had he ever. My throat ached from his wrath.

Andrin narrowed his eyes. “Considering your dick was ready to rip through your pants, it was hardly a punishment. My father would have strung you up in the courtyard and removed a layer of skin from your back.”

My breath punched out of me, the words like a fist buried in my gut.

Andrin realized his mistake right away. Stepping toward me, he put out a hand. “Rane?—”

“Is that what you want?” I asked, moving out of his reach. My chest tightened. “If you think it’ll make you feel better, go ahead and do it.”

His shoulders lifted, and the sigh he exhaled was laced with regret. “It was a thoughtless thing to say. I didn’t even realize what I—” His throat bobbed. “Forgive me.”

The tightness in my chest eased. After a second, I managed a nod. “Fine.”

He opened his mouth?—

“And I’d rather not talk about it.”

He looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he sighed again. “All right. Tell me how you pulled this off. I thought Lornlark sent his daughter to wed some brute in the North.”

Wariness settled over me. Andrin knew about the Purecliff hunter who made the deadly mistake of venturing too close to the Covenant. He’d been with me when we found what was left of him.

He’d also heard the man’s family searching for him. The Edelfen forgot nothing. If a person was inclined to listen, the forest was happy to spill its secrets. Even miles away. Even just outside the Embervale, where the shadows didn’t yet dare to encroach.

When the forest had whispered of the hunter’s connection to Mirella Lornlark, I’d pushed Andrin to go to the Covenant. To explore the possibility of luring Walto’s daughter through the barrier. We couldn’t get our hands on Walto, I’d reasoned, but what if we got Mirella? If she was strong enough to survive a trip through the Covenant, we could use her.

Andrin dismissed the idea. It was too dangerous, he said, and it would never work. Walto was scum, but he was by no means a fool. He’d gotten what he wanted from Autumn. He knew better than to get near it again.

Andrin ordered me to abandon my plan. Then he stopped listening.

But I didn’t. And when the Edelfen whispered that Mirella Lornlark was imprisoned in Nordlinga, I took a chance and disobeyed my king.

“The brute is called Sigurn Brighthelm,” I told Andrin now. “For a short time, he was the King of Nordlinga. He’s elfkin, but he was secretly bound to Ronan Morendiel for years. Brighthelm abandoned Nordlinga to cross the Covenant and wed Morendiel and the new Winter Queen.”

Andrin stared, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to match places with names. Human lifespans were short, and leadership in the mortal kingdoms changed frequently. Andrin paid little attention to Andulum’s affairs.

“Both of them?” he asked finally.

“I was as surprised as anyone.” But, oddly enough, I found myself happy for Morendiel. If anyone needed lurid, abandoned sex, it was that frigid asshole.

“How do you know this?” Andrin demanded. “We haven’t treated with the Winter Court in a hundred years.”

I drew a deep breath. “I’m your bodyguard, Andrin. I listen.”

His expression darkened. “You’re also my chief advisor, and if you’ll recall, that title comes before bodyguard . I depend on you to give me good counsel.”

“Even when you refuse to hear it?” I asked.

He snarled as he stepped toward me, his teeth white in his beard. “Not when the Edelfen whispers it.”

I stood my ground. “ I whispered it. I told you we needed Mirella. She’s our best chance to restore Autumn, and you refused to even consider my plan.”

“So you went behind my back. You disobeyed a direct order.”

“Yes,” I snapped, old frustrations rising. “I couldn’t make my king see reason, so I sought another one.” Andrin’s eyes widened, but I plowed on before he could interrupt me. “I went to the Winter Court and told Sigurn Brighthelm what the Edelfen told me. Mirella was locked in light and unable to travel. Brighthelm is elfkin. I assumed he’d work to free her. And I was right.”

Fury vibrated around Andrin, the weight of his anger practically warping the air. When he finally spoke, his voice was deadly low. “What you did is treason under our laws. The punishment is?—”

“Death,” I said. Moving swiftly, I pulled Mirella’s knife from my pocket and extended it hilt-first. “Go ahead, Your Majesty. Take my life.”

Nostrils flaring, he snatched the blade from my hand. For one trembling moment, he looked like he might actually follow through with his threat. Then he flung the knife away and yanked me against him, one hand gripping my nape.

“Damn you, Rane,” he whispered, sounding miserable. His throat bobbed, and his breath gusted over my lips. Strands of my hair caught in his beard, the black a stark contrast to the red.

He was close enough to kiss. Close enough for me to see the tiny streaks of gold in his blue eyes the same shade as the sky above the Embervale.

He released my nape but didn’t step away. His broad chest brushed mine as he sighed. The storm had passed. Andrin was still angry, but he was listening.

“You are not your father,” I said. “And you can’t compare your reign to his. Larinor didn’t face your challenges. The shadows grow stronger…and they’re getting closer. Andrin, we don’t have much time left.”

“I know,” he rasped. He shifted his gaze to the Edeloak. “I feel it.”

I cupped his cheek, drawing his attention back to me. The short, bright hairs of his beard were so soft against my palm, I couldn’t help stroking them. “Walto Lornlark wanted power so badly, he was willing to lie and steal to get it. But he’s mortal. He can’t cling to power forever. He’ll want to continue his line. The only way he can do that is through his daughter. He’ll demand her return. When he does, we’ll force a meeting. And that will give us access to Purecliff.”

“And if he doesn’t want her back?” Andrin asked gruffly.

The question was unnecessary. Because Andrin already knew my answer. It was the reason he’d forbidden me to seek Mirella.

But everything was in the open now. I wouldn’t lie to him again.

“Then we use her as a bridge,” I said. “If Walto won’t come to us, I’ll go to him.”

As they had the first time I shared my plan, objections gathered in Andrin’s eyes. “And shed your magic the moment you cross the Covenant.” He shook his head, dislodging my hand. “It’s too dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than what I do now. And I can’t do it forever, Andrin.” Images of the courtyard lined with courtiers and castle folk filled my head. Only a handful were strong enough to withstand the Edelfen. “None of us can,” I finished.

Andrin’s jaw clenched, the look in his eyes flickering between anger and worry. After a moment, he let his shoulders sag. “I hate this. It should be me.”

“That’s not an option,” I said, stating the obvious. “And even if it were, I wouldn’t allow it.”

Andrin raised his eyebrows, his expression mirroring Othor’s from moments earlier. “You don’t allow or disallow me anything, l’esku .”

I sucked in a breath. He’d called me “my love.” The endearment didn’t bother me in the slightest. The delivery was the problem.

“You know better than to use the Old Language,” I said. “The shadows listen.” The tongue of our ancestors predated the Covenant. Some claimed it predated humans. Every word dripped with magic. Once spoken, even a simple sentence could twist and warp in unforeseeable ways. It was undesirable in the best of times. But Autumn had been steeped in the worst of all possible times for decades.

Andrin’s features were grim as he brushed hair back from my cheek. “Now you know how it feels when someone you love does something stupid.”

Heat snaked through me. Andrin still hated my plan, but he was smart. He knew I’d given him a tactical gift. Now that he had it, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

“I’m not sure I’ve learned my lesson,” I murmured.

He lowered his gaze to my mouth. “Probably not. I’ll have to instruct you again.”

The heat wrapped around my dick. “As always, my king, I try to be a good pupil.” My breath hitched when he gripped my erection through my pants.

“Try harder,” he said softly. “Because lately, my lord, you’ve been very bad.”

I swallowed hard as his long fingers moved lower, finding my sensitive sack. “Let me carry the message of Mirella’s capture to the Covenant. The villagers will be searching for her along the barrier. They’ll tell Walto we have her.”

Andrin squeezed my balls hard enough to make me wince. His lips coasted over mine. “Don’t talk strategy to me during sex.”

“Forgive me, sire,” I breathed, pain and lust fogging my mind. “I forgot.”

“Another thing I’ll have to punish you for.” Tightening his grip, he leaned in for a kiss. The pounding of booted feet made him sigh heavily and release me. We turned together as a knight rushed into the King’s Grove.

“What is it?” Andrin said, already moving to intercept him. Grimacing at my thwarted desire, I followed.

“Trouble in the Edelfen,” the knight said breathlessly as he stumbled to a stop.

Impatience flashed across Andrin’s face. “There’s always trouble in the Edelfen. Be more specific.”

The knight straightened. “Apologies, Your Majesty. A rider returned from patrol. He said the shadows overwhelmed him and several others. He managed to break away and ride back for help.”

Andrin looked at me. “Are you?—?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll go.” The gods knew I wasn’t letting Andrin go alone.

He nodded, then turned back to the knight. “Lord Rane and I will come at once.”