Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

MIRELLA

T he sound of approaching footsteps jerked me awake. Immediately, sunlight stabbed at my eyes. Squinting, I sat up, my mind hazy with sleep. My bladder ached, and my eyes were sore as if I’d been crying. For a second, I couldn’t figure out who put bars around my bed.

Then I touched my neck—and promptly encountered warm metal.

Reality crashed over me, along with memories of my long, uncomfortable night in the cage. After the knights left, I’d watched the door, anticipating Andrin or Rane—or both—to walk through it at any moment. But they never came.

No one came, and I wondered if Andrin intended to starve me. With my stomach rumbling and the collar a persistent weight around my throat, I’d finally given in to tears. The light outside the windows had faded to black. The fire had burned low. Exhausted and emotionally drained, I’d curled up against the pillows and fallen into a fitful sleep.

I rubbed my eyes now, my heart thumping as the footsteps grew louder. And…uneven?

The chamber’s doors swung open, and an elf stumbled inside. His silver hair was scraped back from his face and tied with a black ribbon at his nape. He groaned softly as he pivoted and pressed his forehead against the wall.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he said, the word ending in a groan.

Bewilderment and curiosity pulled me to my knees. I curled my hands around the bars, my troubles temporarily forgotten. The elf groaned again, his body hunched and his hands dangling at his sides.

“That’s better,” he whimpered. He hiccupped, then squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck me, no, it’s not.”

More footsteps drew my gaze to the doorway. A beat later, two elven women in matching green dresses entered. They stopped, their gazes going from me to the elf against the wall.

“Ginhad,” one of them whispered loudly. “What are you doing ?”

“Go’way,” he groaned. “Just let me die in peace.”

The second woman folded her arms, a knowing look on her pretty face. “You’re not dying. You’re hungover.”

Without opening his eyes, the man, who was apparently called Ginhad, lifted a finger in her direction. “First of all, I’m not hungover. Second of all, I’m still drunk.”

The first woman clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. As I studied her, I realized her dress wasn’t the only thing that matched her companion. The women were identical, from their dark brown hair to their bright blue eyes.

The second woman glanced at me before addressing Ginhad. “The human is awake.”

“What?” He straightened, swaying a bit as he faced my cage. “Leaves and berries, she is, indeed.” Clearing his throat, he crossed the chamber. Or, at least, he started to. Halfway to the cage, he wobbled, his face turning a pale, sickly green.

“Oh,” he said in a surprisingly calm tone. “I’m gonna hurl.”

One of the women moved in a blur, grabbing a giant vase from a nearby table. She thrust it under his chin just as he doubled over and retched. The sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the vase echoed through the chamber.

Wrinkling my nose, I shrank back from the bars.

The woman leaned away from the vase even as she continued holding it. “Ugh.”

After a few more halfhearted heaves, Ginhad lifted his head. He dragged the back of his hand over his forehead, his expression suddenly brighter. “I should have done that hours ago.”

Scowling, the woman shoved the vase into his chest.

“Right,” he said, glancing at me as he held the vase against him. “I’ll just…get rid of this.” He hurried toward the arched opening on the other side of the chamber.

The women looked at me, then each other. Some kind of unspoken communication seemed to flow between them, and they glided forward, their green skirts flowing around their ankles. As they neared the cage, I realized they weren’t completely identical. The woman on the left had leaves and some kind of leaping, hooved animal tattooed around her neck. Her sister’s tattoos were more delicate, with swirling flowers and dainty hummingbirds that descended to her collarbones before disappearing under her gown.

But the designs weren’t tattoos. At least, not completely. They were shadows . And like the other elves I’d seen, the women were probably shapeshifters. I couldn’t let myself forget the danger they posed.

“All better!” Ginhad strode from the opening with the vase in his hands. When the twins turned toward him, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I rinsed it.” He placed the vase back in its spot and stepped back. “There. No harm done.”

“Tell that to my appetite,” the twin with the bolder tattoos said under her breath.

Ginhad’s expression was unbothered as he crossed to the cage. “Well, you’ve still got plenty of time until tonight’s feast.” He frowned. “Or is it still yesterday? I mean, tomorrow.” He closed his eyes. “I have to start writing these things down.”

“It’s today,” the other twin said. “And morning.”

He opened his eyes and squinted at the windows. “Is it? That probably shouldn’t surprise me.” He met my stare, his green eyes the color of leaves. His ears were pierced, several studs and jeweled hoops decorating his lobes. Now that the green had fled his face, he was handsome if a little unconventional with a full, pouty mouth and a nose that turned up at the end. His neck was completely free of tattoos.

Before I could puzzle over their absence, a guilty expression crossed his features. “Um, so I’m Ginhad, the castle steward. I was supposed to come in here shortly after you arrived, but the whole Embervale was buzzing with speculation about you and Walto and what it all means, you know? Kegs were opened and mistakes were made. Good news, though, I’m not above groveling to win you over?—”

Wait. Why did he want to win me over?

“—and then hopefully, fingers crossed, my very temporary lapse in competence never makes it to King Andrin’s ears, yes?”

Ah. That was why. I gripped the bars. “You want me to cover up for you.”

“No!” He waved his hands. “Gods, nothing like that. It’s just that the king can be”—Ginhad leaned toward me and spoke out the side of his mouth—“intense.”

“I noticed.”

Ginhad pointed at me. “See? You get it.” He clapped his hands once. “Anyway, I’m here now and ready to work!” His brow furrowed as he took in my ragged braid and wrinkled gown. “Wow, you’re really dirty.”

I bristled. He’d just puked in a vase, and he had the gall to critique my appearance? “I didn’t bring a change of clothes. Something to remember for my next kidnapping.”

Ginhad’s eyes widened. “I’m going to like you,” he breathed in a tone approaching awe. He shook himself, then leaned forward and peered between the bars. “Quick question, did anyone bring you food?”

“No,” I said. “And if you have the power to open this cage, you should do it quickly. Unless you like urine on your cushions.”

The twin with the delicate tattoos opened her mouth?—

“Nuh-uh,” Ginhad said, putting a finger over her lips. “What do we say about other people’s kinks?” He pulled his finger away and gave her an expectant look.

She sighed, then spoke like she was reciting something. “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean someone else can’t.”

He looked at me. “Just so we’re clear, I didn’t like it. And my, uh, water thing was a solitary adventure, so it doesn’t count. Try everything once, I always say. Anyway, let’s get you to the bathing chamber.” He ran a hand down the bars. Like the day before, light zipped around the cage. A door appeared, and a soft click filled the air.

Ginhad opened the door and extended his hand. “You’ll like me a lot better after a hot bath.”

He led me across the chamber and through the opening. As I’d suspected, it opened onto a large bedchamber decorated just as sumptuously as the main room. More carpets spread over the floors. Beautifully carved chairs and armoires filled the space. The large hearth was cold, and the huge, curtained bed hadn’t been slept in.

My stomach did a nervous flip as we passed it, and I averted my gaze from the dark, embroidered coverlet and carved headboard.

The twins followed as Ginhad guided me through a smaller archway and into another chamber. Instead of carpets, it boasted dark marble floors. Steam rose lazily from an enormous sunken tub carved from the stone. Shelves bursting with crystal bottles filled with colorful liquids lined the walls. Sunlight streamed through a glass dome in the ceiling.

“The garderobe is there,” Ginhad said, pointing to a wooden door tucked into one corner.

I hurried to it and discovered more finery. Another glass ceiling allowed sunlight to illuminate a marble toilet and wash basin as ornate as the rest of the castle. The sound of rushing water filled the air. When I peered cautiously into the toilet, a fast-moving whirlpool spun at the bottom of the bowl, which was as distant as a well.

Magic. But a useful sort.

When I emerged from the garderobe, Ginhad stood from where he’d been dumping the contents of a glass vial into the water.

“Hope you like peonies!”

The twin with the bolder tattoos snorted. “No one likes them as much as you, Ginhad.”

“Please,” he said airily, “like you haven’t polished half the swords in the king’s army.” He turned to me. “Elodie and Nerissa will help you bathe. Don’t ask me which one is which. Eighty years old, and they’re still dressing the same.”

The woman with the more delicate tattoos propped a hand on her hip, exasperation and amusement in her blue eyes as she smiled at me. “Don’t listen to him. He can tell us apart. I’m Elodie. My sister is Nerissa.”

It felt odd introducing myself. They weren’t servants. But they weren’t really my captors, either. On the other hand, they’d opened the cage. Undoubtedly, they had the power to put me back in it.

Erring on the side of caution, I bobbed a quick curtsy. “I’m Mirella.”

Ginhad turned to the twins. “Those are the kind of manners we need at court. Everyone is too familiar with each other. Where is the pageantry? The splendor? When did we go from chivalry to fuck you, pass the potatoes ?”

“The water is getting cold,” Nerissa said.

Ginhad threw up his hands. “Fine, no one listen to me. As usual. ” When he didn’t budge, I cleared my throat.

“Yes?” he asked, recovering quickly from his tantrum.

My cheeks heated. “Are you staying in here while I bathe?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I like men. Elves.” He paused. “Elves with dicks.”

We stared at each other.

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll wait outside.”

The second he left, Elodie and Nerissa sprang into action, helping me bathe and wash my hair. They were both kind and competent, and I slowly relaxed under their ministrations.

Before long, I was dried, brushed, and dressed in a soft, floor-length robe that belted at my waist. Nerissa arranged my hair in a combination of braids and loose waves. When she handed me a mirror, I hardly recognized myself.

“Oh, you’re absolutely lovely,” Elodie said, clasping her hands under her chin as she beamed at me. More delicate flowers circled her wrists. I bit my tongue against the urge to ask if they covered her arms.

“And probably starving,” Nerissa said. When my stomach growled like a wild beast, she laughed and pulled me to the main chamber.

One of the large, round tables groaned with food. Just as I made a beeline for it, the chamber doors opened, and Ginhad entered with a mountain of dresses in his arms.

“I hope you like green because that’s all anyone seems to wear in this kingdom.” He huffed, clearly struggling under the gowns’ weight as he lumbered to a sofa and dumped the stack onto the cushions. Then he muttered as he sorted through them, tossing the rejects to the carpet. “Green. Green. Really green. Green with flowers.” He turned his head to the side and mimed puking. “It’s like a crime against the gods.”

Fighting a smile, I drifted forward. “Whose dresses are those?”

He continued sorting through the mound of silk and velvet. “I don’t know. Everyone’s? I raided a few ladies’ closets.”

I frowned at the growing pile of court dresses, all of which were finer than anything I owned at Purecliff. “They won’t mind me wearing their clothes?”

Ginhad snorted. “Hardly. Most of them will probably offer to make you something new. There are only three things to do in this kingdom—feast, fuck, and sew. The first two sound great until you wake up with your dick and dignity in a soup tureen. Not that I have any experience with that.” He held up a bright yellow gown. “Ah-ha! I knew I had one in here that wasn’t green.”

The dress was stunning, the style simple but elegant. Only half aware what I was doing, I reached out and stroked my fingers down the beaded skirt.

“Try it on,” Ginhad said, nodding toward a screen in the corner.

“Yes,” Elodie sighed, a dreamy look on her face. “It’ll be gorgeous with your hair.”

I touched the skirt again. “If you’re sure…”

“It’s either this or”—Ginhad gagged again—“green. I’ve thrown up once today. Don’t do that to me.”

This time, I lost the battle not to smile. When Ginhad shoved the dress at me, I took it and slipped behind the screen. Undergarments appeared over the top of the wooden panels as I dropped the robe. When I emerged a moment later, Ginhad’s eyes sparkled.

“That’s the one.”

“Do you think so?” I asked, but I didn’t need to. The gown hugged my body like it was made for me, the fabric clinging to my hips and the curve of my breasts.

“Uh, yes , and I’m taking credit for it.” He raised his voice. “Maybe people around here will finally stop wearing so much green .”

Elodie snorted as she and Nerissa began gathering dresses from the floor.

I touched the collar. “Can you take credit for removing this?” I asked Ginhad.

He sobered. “I’m afraid I can’t. Even if I had the magic, which I don’t, King Andrin would turn me into a throw rug.”

Disappointment flooded me. But now I knew the elves possessed varying amounts of power.

“We’re off,” Nerissa said, her arms loaded with gowns. She looked at me. “It was nice to meet you, Mirella.”

“And you,” I said, meaning it. “Thank you for your help.”

Flashing matching smiles, she and Elodie slipped from the chamber. Ginhad waited until the doors closed behind them before gesturing to the table.

“I hauled all of this from the kitchen to make up for being too drunk to bring you dinner last night. There’s cheese, bread, fruit, and some other stuff. And wine, which I will not be drinking. After you eat, I can show you around the castle.”

Surprise tripped through me. “You can?”

He shrugged. “Nobody told me not to. King Andrin said you’ll be serving. The only place to serve is at feasts. Someone has to show you how to do it.” He pulled out a chair and beckoned me over.

My surprise turned to relief as I went to the table. I could handle serving food and wine. I could even tolerate the cage. The collar was humiliating, but at least I didn’t have to share Andrin’s bed. So far, my situation was better than I’d hoped for.

Ginhad pushed my chair in with a courtly flourish. He seated himself, then piled food on a plate and placed it in front of me. When I hesitated, he sighed and tugged a platter of cakes toward him.

“Fine, make me stuff myself.” He bit into a fluffy concoction topped with what appeared to be powdered sugar. He groaned and then spoke around it. “I’ve been watching my figure, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He swallowed. “If I was going to poison you, do you think I would have bothered cleaning you up first?”

He had a point. I plucked a small pie with a golden crust from my plate and took a bite. Creamy sauce and flaky pastry had my eyes rolling back in my head. “Gods…” I mumbled as flavors exploded on my tongue.

Ginhad grinned. “Good, right? There’s a reason feasting tops the list of Embervale activities.”

I finished the pie in a few bites, then popped a grape into my mouth. “Why do you feast so much?”

“Not much else to do when you can’t leave the castle.”

I paused in the act of reaching for another grape. “You can’t leave? Like…ever?”

“No.” He nibbled his lower lip, looking uncomfortable.

“Rane left,” I pointed out. “He came to the Covenant and dragged me through the forest.”

Ginhad shifted in his chair, his seeming discomfort growing. “Lord Rane is an exceptional case.”

“Can anyone else leave? Or just Rane?” I refused to call him lord .

Ginhad’s expression grew shuttered. “I’m probably not supposed to talk about this sort of stuff with you.” He darted a look at the doors, then dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “You know, since your father set Autumn’s current predicament in motion.”

Frustration rose. “Your king seems to think so. But I promise I have no idea what he’s talking about.” I leaned forward. “What did he mean about a Kree?”

Ginhad winced. “Can we talk about literally anything else? Like my pitiful love life or my inability to digest sunflower seeds?”

My frustration threatened to choke me. But I’d get nowhere if I angered Ginhad. “Fine.” I nodded toward his neck. “Why don’t you have any tattoos?”

He appeared to consider his response. Then he nodded. “It’s an adjacent subject, but it’s probably safe enough.” He plucked another pie from a platter and put it on my plate. “In the Autumn Court, we don’t come into our full powers until we bond with our were .”

“Were?”

“Uh-huh. You probably saw a few in the courtyard. Horses and birds. Wolves and foxes. We’ve got a little bit of everything.” He gestured to his neck. “When we bond with an animal, it becomes one of our sigils, and then we can take a shadow version of our were. Really powerful elves can take solid form. Some of the show-offs around here like to flaunt their weres every chance they get. Which, all right, embrace your inner animal, but there’s only so much manure I can tolerate before I become villainous .”

I took another bite of pie. “So you don’t shift into an animal?”

“Nope. I’m only thirty, which is like a screaming infant in Ishulum. By the time I came along, the shadows had already taken over the Edelfen.” He sipped water from a goblet. “Finding your were is something of a mystical experience. There’s a wild hunt during the harvest. It’s a whole thing.” He shrugged. “These days, animals are scarce in the Edelfen. I never got a chance to find mine.”

Sympathy twinged in my chest. “I’m sorry, Ginhad.”

He set his goblet down. “I try not to dwell on it. And I have plenty of duties in the castle to keep me busy. Like making sure you know how to pour wine at dinner.”

“I think I can manage.”

He gave me a look as he pushed his chair back from the table. “You might change your mind when you attend your first feast. Come on. I’ll show you the Embervale.”

Ginhad kept up a steady stream of chatter as he led me through the castle’s meandering corridors.

“…and that’s the library. No one ever goes there. We’re not much for reading around here. Probably because there’s nothing new to read.”

Questions huddled in my mind. If Ginhad was thirty, and the Edelfen had been overrun by shadows since before he was born, when did it get that way? And what did my father have to do with it?

But I couldn’t get the answers I sought. At least not right now. Maybe if I continued to befriend Ginhad, I could persuade him to give me more information. If I had any hope of escaping the Autumn Court, I needed to understand my father’s alleged crime.

In the meantime, my curiosity extended in another direction.

“Where is everyone?” I asked. Even at Purecliff, where the staff was small, servants were always bustling about. But Ginhad and I hadn’t encountered a single soul since we left Andrin’s chamber.

Ginhad waved a hand. “Oh, here and there. Most people are probably still sleeping off last night.” He slid me a look. “Your arrival is big news. Everyone is excited about the possibility of…” He clamped his lips together.

“What?” I asked.

He drew a finger across his neck. “Throw rug,” he mouthed.

I bit my tongue against the urge to press for more. Ginhad was the closest thing I had to an ally in Ishulum. If I pushed him too far, I could find myself back in the cage—and at Andrin’s mercy, assuming he ever showed up again.

My throat went dry, and I put the king—and his bodyguard—out of my mind.

We turned a corner, and the corridor opened onto a long gallery lined with painted wooden doors. As we passed, the paintings made me do a double take.

Nude men and women romped in lush forests. In some panels, the subjects thrust gourds and other objects into various…orifices.

Cheeks heating, I yanked my gaze from the brightly colored artwork. I was no stranger to naked bodies. As a healer, I’d nursed dozens of knights in Nordlinga. And I’d spent my entire life in castles. Large or small, privacy was difficult to come by in such places. More than once, I’d stumbled across couples enjoying themselves. But most people tried to be discreet.

That didn’t appear to be the case in the Embervale.

Ginhad continued speaking as if nothing were amiss. “So, as I mentioned, feasting is big around here. Mealtimes tend to go on for hours.” He glanced at my feet. “We’ll need to get you some comfortable shoes.”

Wariness drifted through me. “How many hours?”

He hummed. “Kind of hard to predict. Sometimes, people break into smaller groups, and the main feast winds down early.”

“Smaller groups?” I was starting to feel like a parrot repeating his statements.

“Yeah. Some people prefer more privacy, especially when they want to get, um, creative.”

The wariness increased. I eyed the next door, which depicted a naked woman reclining on the forest floor. Four nude men surrounded her, their mouths on various parts of her body. Red and gold leaves tumbled through the air.

Without warning, the door swung open. A man sauntered out, a pair of boots dangling from the fingers of one hand. His long hair was piled on top of his head, revealing his tapered ears. His clothing, if it could be called that, consisted of what appeared to be several leather belts. They crisscrossed his chest and waist, various buckles holding them in place. Another belt descended from the straps across his chest, eventually ending in a metal ring that circled his flaccid cock.

I pressed a hand over my mouth, a breathless “oh!” slipping around my palm.

“Ginhad!” the man exclaimed, delight spreading over his features. “We wondered where you went.” The man looked at me. His brown eyes warmed as he swept a gaze down my body. He sauntered forward. “Hello.”

“Goodbye,” Ginhad said, rushing forward. He gripped the man’s arm and spun him around.

“Hey!” The man looked over his shoulder. “At least introduce me.”

“No. Now, shoo.” After a few more seconds of tussling, Ginhad slapped the man’s bare ass, shoved him through the door, and yanked it shut.

“I liked that!” the man called through the door.

Ginhad kept his hand on the knob for a few more seconds, as if he waited to see if the man would attempt to exit again. When the door stayed closed, he straightened slowly and released a shaky sigh.

I lowered my hand. “I assume he wasn’t sewing in there.”

“Definitely not.” Ginhad came to me and took my elbow. Hurrying me down the corridor, he spoke under his breath. “As I’m sure you noticed, Lord Lerendyl has a needle dick , not needlepoint.”

My shock lingered as we navigated more corridors and staircases. When we’d put a decent amount of distance between us and Lord Lerendyl and his buckles, I looked at Ginhad. “Is that the sort of thing I should expect at your feasts?”

He stopped, his green eyes guarded. “If I say yes, are you going to run down the corridor screaming?”

“I’m not really one for running and screaming. At least not simultaneously.”

Ginhad’s lips twitched. Then his expression turned serious. “They’re not my feasts. And, no, not every evening ends in harnesses and bare bottoms. But the Embervale is a lusty place. Almost everyone here has a were . That’s a lot of animal instinct cooped up in one place.”

“Because no one can leave.”

He made a strangled sound, and I braced for him to say throw rug . Instead, he glanced around and then lowered his voice. “That’s mostly true, yes. Only the strongest among us can enter the Edelfen.”

I’d entered it. Then again, I’d been tethered to Rane the whole time. Had he…protected me? If so, he hadn’t done it because he cared about my safety.

I want to hurt you a great deal.

A shiver coursed through me. Ginhad must have misinterpreted its source, because he took my hand.

“No one in the Embervale will force you to do anything against your will.” He gave me a meaningful look. “No one.”

He meant Rane and King Andrin. Relief swept me. A second later, it died a swift death. Maybe I was free from unwanted advances, but I wasn’t free . The collar’s weight reminded me that every breath I drew depended on Andrin’s will—not mine.

The distant sound of a door opening echoed down the corridor.

Ginhad grabbed my arm, mild panic on his face. “Let’s get out of here. That’s probably Lerendyl coming to invite me to another evening of hippocras and horseshoes, and there’s not enough hippocras in Ishulum for me to forget where he puts the stake.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Why don’t you just travel through the shadows?” Immediately, I wanted to take the words back. If Ginhad didn’t have a were , maybe he couldn’t run the shadows, either.

But he didn’t seem offended as he hustled me toward a wide staircase. “It’s not safe. Not with Autumn’s magic so imbalanced.” He frowned. “And I don’t know if we should be talking about this, so?—”

“Throw rug,” I said. “It’s fine.” I’d gathered more information. For now, it was enough.

After a few more twists and turns, we neared the biggest set of doors I’d seen since entering the castle. Fashioned from thick, black wood, they gleamed under the chandeliers. Ornate carvings decorated every inch, filling the panels with trees and animals.

Like the other doors I’d encountered, they swung open as we approached. A Great Hall spread before us, the soaring chamber easily four times the size of the hall at Purecliff. Wooden trestle tables lined the walls. Their benches were empty, the hall quiet and seemingly unoccupied. Massive chandeliers fashioned from antlers filled the hall with light. A dais at the far end held a carved wooden throne and several other chairs.

As they had outside, gold and red leaves tumbled slowly from the ceiling before fading from sight.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

Ginhad squinted at the rafters. “A few years ago, someone charmed the leaves to look like anal beads. That was a sight. Noisier than you might think.”

I didn’t know what to think. And my confusion must have shown on my face, because Ginhad rubbed his jaw.

“You’ve never heard of…?”

I shook my head.

He released a wistful sigh. “Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t. We used to be a lot more respectable in the Autumn Court, except at harvest time, of course. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. For as long as I can remember, it’s been nothing but riding crops and the aforementioned anal beads.” He turned his gaze back to the ceiling, his expression thoughtful. “I think we originally imported them from the Summer Court. They’re wild in the South, with their oils and gladiator matches.” He gave a low chuckle. “More like glad-he-ate-her .”

After a second, he looked at me. “You know, like glad he…” Ginhad cleared his throat. “I’ll show you where we keep the wine.”

It only took a few minutes for me to learn which tables to serve first and where to carry empty cups for the kitchen staff to clean. Once Ginhad pronounced me competent to keep the castle’s nobles plied with wine, he announced we’d visit the stable next. “But we’ll have to keep it short,” he muttered. “I’m starting to feel too sober for comfort.”

We made our way to the courtyard, which looked much larger now that it was deserted. Leaves tumbled through the air as we crossed terraces and passed under stone arches. We descended several wide staircases to what appeared to be the lowest level of the Embervale. When I looked up, the castle rose above us, its towers piercing the sky.

But when I looked toward the meadow I’d crossed with Rane the day before, the Edelfen was a black stain on the horizon.

“It’s best not to look at it,” Ginhad said, his voice uncharacteristically somber. He guided me down a path that led to a low, stone building flanked by a paddock. The scent of leather and manure permeated the air.

Some of the tension eased from my shoulders. In my time as a healer, I’d tended animals as well as humans. Animals were always better patients.

Ginhad stopped outside the paddock’s sturdy-looking fence. “Our mounts can be a little unconventional in the Autumn Court. We don’t have many?—”

The thunder of hooves cut him off. I whirled as a cloaked and hooded rider clattered into the stable’s small courtyard. The horse was winded, its sides heaving. Mud splattered its legs, and sweat glistened on its black coat. A deep gash on its chest bled freely. A thick, black cloth wrapped around its head. With a start, I realized it was a blindfold.

The rider brought the beast to a halt. Dismounting in a single graceful movement, he ran a gloved hand down the horse’s side before moving in front of the animal. The horse shied, blowing hard through its nose.

“Whoa…” the rider murmured. Slowly, he pulled the blindfold away and pressed his forehead to the horse’s forelock.

I held my breath as the horse appeared to calm, its eyes drifting shut. After a moment, it whinnied softly. Its long tail swished, and its breathing slowed.

The rider lifted his head. Then he swung toward me and yanked his hood down.

Surprise jolted me. The rider was an elven woman . Tall and beautiful, her black hair was braided away from her face and threaded with diamonds. A thick black scarf circled her neck. Long lashes framed her bright blue eyes. She was dressed like a warrior in leather trousers and silver armor. Her chainmail shirt clinked softly as she strode forward.

“King Andrin and the others are coming,” she said, addressing Ginhad. “We have several injured. Fetch Othor and tell him to be ready.”

Ginhad sketched a hasty bow. “Of course, Lady Vivia. I’ll go at once.”

The woman’s blue eyes landed on me. Her mouth tightened, and her expression went hostile as she lowered her eyes to my collar. “Put the king’s pet back in its cage before you seek Othor. It shouldn’t be out in the first place.”

Humiliation and animosity frazzled through me in equal measure. She spoke of me like I was nothing. Like I might lift my skirts and pee on the furniture if I wasn’t supervised.

Clenching my fists, I stepped forward. Suddenly, Ginhad was in front of me, his long, silver hair a tangle down his back.

“Of course, my lady,” he said.

The woman caught my eye, a smirk playing around her mouth. Then she went to her horse, took its bridle, and moved toward the stable.

Ginhad waited a moment before turning to me. His features were strained, his tone low and urgent. “I’m sorry, Mirella, but we need to go.”

I wouldn’t make trouble for him if I could help it. And challenging the elven woman would only cause trouble.

“All right,” I said. “I understand.”

The journey back to the chamber was tense and quiet. In no time at all, the big doors swung open, and the cage filled my vision. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to run—to escape while I still could.

But I couldn’t. Even if I managed to overpower Ginhad, the collar prevented me from seeking the shadows. With nerves twisting my stomach, I let him help me climb into my prison. Then I clenched my jaw as he shut the door and touched the bars, sealing me inside.

He avoided my gaze as he stepped backward. “I’ll check on you soon. I promise.” For a second, he looked like he wanted to say more. Then he was gone, his steps fading quickly as the chamber doors shut behind him.

The cage rocked gently, the wood creaking. Tears burned my throat, and I swallowed hard, curling my hands into fists so my nails dug into my palms. My gown spread around me, the bright yellow skirts mocking me against the deep green of the cushion. I wasn’t a noblewoman in the Autumn Court. I was a prisoner.

A pet , as the elven woman had said.

My throat thickened. Reaching up, I tugged at the collar. What if Ginhad got sidetracked again? And who was Othor?

The chamber’s doors flew open, and I stifled a gasp as King Andrin entered with Rane on his heels. Both wore armor, and both were covered in blood.

I froze, my heart in my throat.

Andrin’s hair was unbound, the red strands wild around his face. Power rolled off him in thick waves, the force of it so strong it was almost visible.

No, it was visible. Dark, volatile energy flowed off his armor, the waves staining the air around him. He charged forward, his strides eating up the marble floors.

“Andrin!” Rane called, hurrying after him. “Andrin, stop.”

The king whirled with a snarl. Across the room, a small statue fell from the mantel and smashed against the hearth. Glass rattled, tinkling sounds streaming from all directions of the chamber. The men stood in profile, tension flowing between them.

“Who dares to address me?” Andrin demanded, his voice rough and deep. Unrecognizable.

Rane extended his hands in a placating gesture. He edged forward, his tattered, soiled cloak fluttering behind him. “Andrin… It’s me.”

The waves rolling off Andrin thinned. He peered at Rane. “You…serve me,” he said, a thread of hesitation in his voice.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. I could only stare, transfixed, as the men faced off.

“Yes,” Rane said. He took another cautious step forward. “I serve you, my king. In all ways. Let me help you.”

Rane’s face was pale. His armor was dented. In other places, it was ripped open, as if something had tried to claw it from his body. He held completely still, his focus on Andrin.

“You’ll help me,” the king rasped. “I must take back what is rightfully mine.”

Rane took another careful step. “That’s right.”

Andrin’s nostrils flared. His chest swelled, as if he’d caught Rane’s scent and dragged it into his lungs. He lowered his chin, a growl rumbling from his throat. “You serve me,” he said, the hesitation gone.

The tattoos around his neck moved, writhing and rearranging themselves. Thick shadows flowed away from him in a dark river. They stretched toward Rane, licking at the air like a snake’s tongue thrusting from its mouth.

My heart thundered in my chest, fear and fascination twining through me.

In a sudden movement, the streamers of magic whipped around Rane’s throat and yanked him forward.

The men collided in a clang of steel. In the space of a heartbeat, the energy in the chamber turned sexual. Rane and Andrin grappled, the sound of ripping fabric and metal on metal mingling with their labored breaths.

I scrambled backward, not stopping until the bars of the cage dug into my spine.

Masculine aggression filled the air. Gauntlets clattered to the marble, and then Andrin tangled a hand in Rane’s hair and forced his head back. The shadows continued winding around Rane’s throat, forming thick loops that climbed to his chin.

Shock held me immobile. The castle could have crumbled to the ground, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Andrin gazed down at Rane, his stare dark and possessive. Rane appeared helpless in the king’s grip, his breathing ragged and his chin forced high by the shadowy ropes around his neck. Color stained his cheeks. But he didn’t seem frightened or unwilling. On the contrary, his eyes glittered with…something.

I leaned forward, and I recognized the look in Rane’s purple gaze.

Hunger.

With his free hand, Andrin drew a finger down Rane’s cheek. “You always serve me so well.”

The men twisted into shadow, their bodies disintegrating into thick, dark clouds. The mass streamed across the room and into the bedchamber. Seconds later, sounds drifted in the air.

Armor hitting the ground. Masculine growls. A hoarse cry. The creak of bed ropes. After a moment, rhythmic grunts, squeaking bed ropes, and the thud of wood against the wall created a lurid symphony. There was no mistaking what unfolded in the other room.

My face burned, and a strange restlessness squirmed through me. It felt wrong to listen. But what choice did I have? As the sounds continued, I huddled against the pillows, my gaze on the bedchamber’s doorway.

Rane didn’t just keep Andrin safe. He shared the king’s bed. But there was something more to it than just physical desire. The energy around Andrin had been ominous. Sinister. They’d returned from the Edelfen, where the elven woman Vivia said others had been wounded.

“Let me help you ,” Rane had implored Andrin. What kind of help did he mean? What lurked in the Edelfen that made someone as formidable as Andrin return bloodied and close to losing control? And what did my father have to do with it?

Caged and collared, I was in no position to find out. But Andrin wanted me alive. And now I knew I was safe from his and Rane’s advances. As sounds of passion continued to spill from the bedchamber, I curled up on the pillows.

Ginhad said I would serve wine during feasts. As humiliating as the task promised to be, it was an opportunity to learn more about the Autumn Court. For the moment, I was weaponless and powerless. But knowledge was power. I’d arm myself with it.

And when I got the chance, I’d thrust it through my captors’ hearts.