Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

ANDRIN

I opened my eyes to a darkened bedchamber.

Rane sprawled on his back beside me, one forearm over his eyes and his hair spread across the pillow. His mouth was slightly open, and his chest rose and fell in the rhythm of deep sleep. As usual, he’d kicked the blankets off like they’d insulted his honor.

He was a mouthwatering sight, his pale skin glowing against the dark sheets. The fire had burned low, and its light gilded the thick curve of his bicep and the indentations of his abs. His cock lay thick and soft against his thigh. The wounds he’d sustained in the Edelfen—and under me—had faded to a soft pink.

Outside the bedchamber’s windows, the sky was dark. Closing my eyes, I cast my senses wide, letting them dig under the soil of the meadow beyond the Embervale. Deep in my consciousness, where my connection with the land dwelled, Autumn stirred.

I sank my senses deeper into the dirt, letting it break apart in my mind. Information flowed back to me as the land spoke in a rush of crisp air and crackling leaves. The ground was still warm from the sun, the air above it kissed by the cooler temperatures of early evening. The night was young yet. Plenty of time for a feast.

And plenty of time to see Mirella assume her new role. It was necessary, especially after the day’s battle in the Edelfen. As Rane had warned, the shadows grew more powerful. My people were weary. They needed a reason to rally. I couldn’t give them Walto just yet, but I could give them his daughter.

The leaves crackled again. Behind my closed eyelids, the soil continued to crumble, giving way to swirling shadow and dozens of pairs of glowing, malevolent eyes.

In my head, I recoiled. I’d pushed too deep. Delved too far into the darkness. But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn’t true. I hadn’t pushed any deeper than I normally did.

The darkness had seeped closer to the surface, corrupting my bond with the land like infection smothering healthy tissue. Shadows swarmed behind my closed lids. I had to sever the connection. But as I pulled my senses from the dirt, a bright spot appeared in my mind.

Hesitating, I peered at it. Small and golden, it sparkled like sunlight on water. Confusion and curiosity gripped me. Suddenly, the radiant speck dimmed. Then it winked out. The shadows raced toward me. I opened my eyes, breaking the bond.

“What is it?” Rane sat watching me, his face etched with concern.

“I…” My pulse thudded in my neck. Had I imagined the light? I must have. And if, by some miracle of the gods, light had thrived beyond the Embervale, it was gone now. Dead and reborn as something worse than death.

“Andrin?”

I realized I stared blankly, one hand gripping the tangled sheets like a lifeline.

“Nothing,” I said, releasing the fabric. “I was too deep.”

A hint of censure entered Rane’s gaze. “You shouldn’t connect so soon after returning from the Edelfen. It’s dangerous.”

“I know.”

“So why do it?”

Sheepishness stole through me. For a moment, I considered lying. But Rane knew me too well for that.

“I wanted to know the time,” I admitted.

Purple eyes widened. “Have you ever heard of sticking your head out the window? Or perhaps summoning a servant?”

I glanced toward the opening that led to the main chamber. “Keep your voice down.”

He followed the direction of my gaze. Then he grunted, some of the outrage fading from his face. When he spoke next, he pitched his voice below human range. “She watched us enter.”

Hardly unexpected. We would have been hard to miss from her perch inside the cage. Still, the thought of Lornlark’s daughter observing me at my most vulnerable was like acid in my veins. “How much did she see?”

Rane looked at me. “She couldn’t have seen much.”

“Even a glimpse is too much.” Only a fool flaunted his weaknesses in front of his enemy.

“Will you question her now?” Rane asked.

I shook my head. “Not just yet. Walto was always proud. From the little I’ve observed, his daughter is no different. An evening of service should help her understand how drastically her status has changed. She’s more likely to cooperate if she realizes she could spend the rest of her brief mortal years filling cups and scrubbing tables.”

Rane’s eyes gleamed in the chamber’s dim light. “Or she could become even more determined to fight you.”

Irritation put a growl in my voice. “Your optimism is inspirational.”

He smiled, untroubled in the face of my anger. “I’m not optimistic. I’m practical. Mirella is stronger than I expected.” He smoothed a hand over his jaw, the smile fading from his eyes even as it continued curving his lips. “Strong things are harder to break, but they can be broken. Everything can be broken.”

A shiver went down my spine. “Sometimes, you frighten even me.”

He chuckled. “I seriously doubt that. And now, as you’ve ordered, my king, I must go ready myself for a feast.” He slipped from the bed in a graceful ripple of muscle. His black hair swayed against the small of his back as he moved toward the bathing chamber. Bruises mottled his tight, round ass. More discoloration spread down the backs of his thighs.

“Rane,” I called.

He paused, meeting my gaze over his shoulder.

“You’re well?” I asked, my voice gruff in my ears.

Rane’s eyes were as cool as the purple crystals we used to gather on the shores of the Silver Sea. “I’m a Shadow Eater, Andrin. You’ve never given me anything I didn’t want.”

As he disappeared into the bathing chamber, I turned my attention to the archway.

Everything can be broken. I knew that better than anyone. The problem was, not everything could be put back together. Sometimes, the damage was too great. The pieces too small. When a dead leaf turned to dust, nothing could restore it.

Leaving the bed, I pulled a pair of trousers from the wardrobe and stepped into them. Then I went to a mirror. My eyes were darker than usual, the ring around my irises smearing into the paler blue like a river behind a failing dam. My sigils were a thick black band that started just under my chin and spread down to my shoulders before descending to my wrists. My hair fell to my hips in a copper tangle. I pushed the strands behind my ears, exposing the tapered points.

There. Let Lornlark’s daughter see exactly who controlled her fate. Turning from the mirror, I entered the main chamber.

Mirella lifted her head from the pillows. As I stalked toward her, she bolted upright, her yellow skirts puddling around her. She’d been lovely in the courtyard. With the dirt of the Edelfen washed away, she was stunning. Someone had dressed her like a lady of the court.

Ginhad. The steward was forever meddling. But I couldn’t deny his good taste.

Suspended from the ceiling in the swaying cage, Mirella looked like a rare, pretty bird. Or a prize fit for a king. She tracked my progress, a flush spreading over her creamy cheeks. A thick lock of wavy hair spilled over her shoulder, the vivid red like a waterfall of fire. Light from the chandeliers played over her collar.

“Elven gold suits you,” I said, stopping before the cage, which creaked as it rocked gently. I grasped one of the bars, stilling the contraption.

Mirella lifted her chin, defiance and more than a little fear in her golden eyes. She’d probably fooled herself into thinking the former hid the latter.

“Your king gave you a compliment,” I said.

If a glare could have killed, I would have expired on the spot. She braced a hand against the pillows, her creamy skin glowing in the chamber’s dim light. The chamber’s low light made the freckles across the bridge of her nose sparkle like gold dust.

“You’re not my king,” she rasped. “And I don’t care what you think.”

I nodded toward her neck. “I’m the only one who can remove that collar. Its magic is keyed to mine. So I suggest you start caring, Lady Mirella.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Will you set me free?”

“That depends on you.”

Little lines appeared between her brows. “I already told you, I don’t know anything about my father and the Autumn Court.”

An obvious lie. Walto had stolen the Kree. He was obsessed with legacy. His wife was dead, and he had no other children. And as much as he liked to pretend otherwise, he was mortal. He needed someone to keep the Kree safe if anything happened to him. Mirella was the logical choice. The only choice.

I ran a hand down the bars of the cage. When the door appeared, I swung it open and stepped back. “Get out.”

She swallowed, eyeing the sigils around my throat. She dipped her gaze briefly to my bare chest before jerking it up again.

I reached into the cage. She gasped and shrank back, then yelped when I gripped her arm and hauled her through the door in a flurry of red hair and yellow silk.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried, struggling even as she pitched into my arms. Her hand glanced off my chest. Magic snapped , energy stinging my skin. She sucked in a breath, then fought harder, kicking as she struggled to free herself. One small fist flew at my face.

I caught it, wrenched her arm down, and dumped her onto her feet. Her teeth clicked together as she staggered against me. Before she could punch again, I captured her wrists and pinned them behind her back.

“In Autumn, striking the king is a death sentence.”

She glared up at me, her earlier defiance returned in full force. “You touched me first, and for no reason!”

“I gave you an order. You failed to obey it. I’m not in the habit of repeating myself. It’s probably best you learn this lesson now rather than in front of the whole court. That said, if you prefer being disciplined in public, I’m happy to oblige.”

Hate shone in her eyes. But she seemed to realize she was caught—and that her breasts mashed against my chest. The pink in her cheeks deepened. She swallowed, appearing to rein in her temper.

“I…apologize. I won’t disobey again.”

“I’m pleased we understand each other,” I said, releasing her.

She stepped back swiftly. Rubbing her wrist, she shot me a wary look. “Does that mean you’ll stop hurting me?”

If I’d been more careful, I would have never touched her. But it was too late. She’d obviously felt the connection between us. It seemed improbable Walto hadn’t told her about it.

“Your feigned ignorance is impressive,” I said. “You should consider a career on the stage.”

“What?” Bewilderment mixed with the anger in her eyes.

Doubt trickled through my mind. Walto couldn’t have prevented Mirella from knowing she was elfkin. But maybe he’d kept the details of her ancestry from her. Considering his own fascination with his family tree, perhaps he worried she’d be tempted to seek the source of her power.

Then again, maybe Mirella was simply as accomplished a liar as her father.

“I didn’t hurt you,” I said, watching her closely. “Walto Lornlark and I share a common ancestor, although dozens of generations separate him from the source of that lineage. The same blood runs in your veins.”

Her lips parted. For a second, she looked like she might be sick. “We’re related?”

“Distantly,” I said. “Your elven blood is so diluted by now that it might as well be water. But the magic of House Verdalis is extremely potent. It will always recognize its like. The shock will fade a little more each time we touch.”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s easily solved. Don’t touch me again.”

Grudging admiration swirled through me. Plenty of people—male or female—in her position would have already been on their knees, pleas for mercy on their lips. But she stood her ground.

Drawing my magic close, I melted into shadow. In a heartbeat, I took solid form in front of her, one hand wrapped around her collar.

At last, her bravado deserted her. She trembled, growing pale under her freckles.

“I don’t have to touch you to control you, Mirella,” I murmured. I lifted my free hand and held it within her range of vision. When she flicked her gaze to it, I let a tendril of shadow curl from my fingertips. Her eyes widened as it twisted slowly in the air, forming a phantom hand. With another push of magic, I sent the hand toward her. It grew more solid, knuckles and veins forming as it clasped her neck.

Another push of magic, and the thumb of my shadow hand pressed ever so slightly against her windpipe.

She whimpered, her breathing going shallow.

“I don’t even need a collar,” I said. “Either way, I’ll have your obedience.” A small push, and the thumb pressed harder. “Won’t I,” I added, making it a statement.

Silence stretched, the only sound in the chamber Mirella’s fluttery, uneven breaths.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“That was the right answer.” I released her collar as I withdrew my magic. The shadow hand dissolved like smoke.

Mirella stepped backward, one hand going to her throat.

Rane strode from the bedchamber in court clothes. He stopped, his expression inscrutable as he raked his gaze down Mirella’s dress.

“You have ten minutes to ready yourself for the feast,” I told her. Striding toward the bedchamber, I raised my voice. “I hope you rested well in your cage, my lady. You won’t get another opportunity for a while.”