Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
MIRELLA
I chewed a bite of toast and tried to ignore the glowering elf across from me. Rane Laruthian was just as charming over breakfast as he was any other time.
In other words, about as charming as a spotted toad. He’d stalked into the main chamber twenty minutes ago, demanding to know if I’d seen Andrin. When I said no, he cursed and swept from the chamber. Ten minutes later, he returned and ordered me out of the cage.
“Get dressed.”
Sitting in the middle of my cushion, I’d poured as much disdain into my tone as I dared. “Ginhad hasn’t brought my gown.”
“Where’s the gown you wore last night?”
“I have no idea. He takes them at night and returns with a new one in the morning.”
More cursing. Then Rane shut the cage and left a second time. He returned with a yawning serving girl with red-rimmed eyes and my yellow gown draped over her arm. She carried a teacup in one hand and a plate of burnt toast in the other.
“S-Sorry about the toast,” she’d hiccuped as she helped me dress in the bathing chamber. “I have a terrible headache. Must be s-something I ate.”
Or several somethings you drank , I thought, steadying her when she swayed. I moved my hand to her bare forearm and closed my eyes. Heat built under my hand, and visions of laughing courtiers and flowing wine filled my head. The serving girl gasped, and I opened my eyes as she steadied, color blooming in her cheeks.
“Wow, I feel a lot better.” Bewilderment filled her eyes, and she looked around as if just noticing the bathing chamber for the first time. “Did I…sleep in here?”
“No,” I said, guiding her to the door as pain throbbed behind my eyes and nausea twisted my stomach. “But you should probably go lie down for a while.” As we left the bathing chamber, I stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You have bruises around your neck.” I peered more closely, and anger fired in my gut. “Did someone choke you?”
A blush stained her cheeks. “Oh, yes, but I asked for it.” She leaned toward me, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I have a matching set on my arse.”
When we entered the main chamber, Rane paced in front of the doors. He stopped when he spotted us, tension hovering around him.
“Let me know if you see the king,” he told the servant. “Right away, you come find me. Understand?”
“Yes, my lord,” she said, curtsying.
He’d frowned as she left, then turned to me and pointed to the toast and cup on the table. “Eat quickly. I have things to do.”
Now, he sat with his arms folded over his chest and his gaze on the doors. One booted foot tapped the floor in an agitated rhythm. He wore black as usual, his clothing plain but beautifully crafted. His long, black hair was loose except for a few strands braided at his temples and pulled into a careless knot. The black feathers and vines around his neck glinted ominously in the morning sunlight.
The headache I’d taken from the servant faded as I hunted for an unscorched section of toast.
Well, maybe less scorched was the best I could hope for. I took another bite, chewing and swallowing carefully as my stomach settled. The tea had been palatable enough, although I would have killed for some sugar.
“Are you almost finished?”
I looked up to find Rane’s impatient gaze upon me. His biceps bulged under his shirt, as if he squeezed his arms over his chest to keep from strangling someone. I didn’t need anyone to tell me who he had in mind.
I lowered the toast to my plate. “If you need to leave, you can just put me back in the cage.”
His eyes drifted over my collar before making a quick trip down my bodice. He turned his attention back to the door, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “I can’t leave you here.”
“Why not?”
The muscle jumped again. “Just eat.”
My headache threatened to return. “I’m finished.”
He looked at the plate. “You barely ate anything.”
“I didn’t like it.”
“You don’t like toast?”
“Not when it’s been set on fire.”
A beat passed, and an inscrutable look crossed his face. Whatever it was, he smothered it quickly as he shoved his chair back and stood. His purple eyes rested briefly on the blackened toast. “Maybe we can find someone sober enough to make a better breakfast.” He strode toward the doors, his footsteps clipped. “Follow me,” he ordered without looking back.
For a second, indecision rooted me to the chair. Then I stood and hurried after him. Rane’s impatience seemed to multiply as we rounded corners and sped down corridors. Before long, a stitch formed in my side.
“Where are we going?” I panted.
He tossed me an irritated look, but he slowed his pace as we moved down the hall of lewdly painted doors. Every few moments, he paused and opened one, sticking his head inside before backing out and moving on.
My curiosity grew. He was obviously looking for Andrin. Maybe they’d argued, and the king had left. But shouldn’t it have been the other way around? And why did Rane insist on dragging me with him?
“Have you looked outside?” I asked as we descended a grand staircase flanked by balustrades carved to resemble tree trunks covered with leaves and vines. Halfway down, a pair of women’s drawers dangled from a twisting branch.
“Of course I looked outside,” Rane snapped. “Everyone knows that’s the first place you look when you’re missing someone.”
I held my skirts as I stepped over a leather leash with a collar attached to one end. “I’ve never heard that before.”
He grunted. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and gazed around, his amethyst eyes clouded with worry. “Let’s look in the Great Hall,” he said finally. “And before you ask, yes, I already looked there. But it can’t hurt to look again.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” I said.
He slanted me a skeptical look. Then he grabbed my elbow and hurried me down another set of stairs. “Come on. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find someone sober enough to help us.”
A moment later, we stood side by side in the Great Hall’s broad doorway. Leaves drifted from the ceiling, some alighting upon deserted tables and overturned chairs before disappearing. The stench of sour wine hung in the air. Someone had made an effort to clear the food, but a few bones and globs of sauce remained. A riding crop lay abandoned on a table. Puddles of wine and other liquids I wasn’t going to think too hard about soaked the flagstones.
“He’s not here,” Rane said, holding a hand on the back of his neck as he surveyed the empty hall. “And everyone is too fucking drunk to help me search.”
“I’m not,” I offered. When he turned to me, I drew a deep breath. “I could help you look for Andrin. But we’ll cover more ground if we split up.”
He frowned, and I braced for him to accuse me of trying to escape. “You would do that?” he asked instead.
“Isn’t that why you brought me with you?”
“I… No. I was trying to be—” He clamped his mouth shut.
“What?”
“Forget it.”
My interest grew. What was he trying to be?
Rushing footsteps made us both turn. Ginhad skidded around the corner, his pale face a mask of alarm. Barefoot and wearing nothing but a pair of trousers, he sprinted to Rane.
“My lord!” he gasped, bending as he struggled to catch his breath. “You have to come quickly. It’s the king.”
Rane seized Ginhad’s shoulder. “What happened? Where is he?”
“Stable,” Ginhad panted, pointing. “He’s been in the Edelfen.”
Rane took off without another word, his hair flying behind him. As I grabbed my skirts and followed, my mind raced with possibilities of what we might find when we reached the stable. Was Andrin hurt? Or could I expect the same dark, ominous energy I’d seen the day he and Rane returned from the forest? Morning sunlight seemed to mock me as I reached the path leading to the stable.
I rushed down it, my feet flying over the stones. When I raced past the paddock seconds later, Rane was throwing open the stable’s doors. A horse’s whinny drifted from the rear of the building.
Rane disappeared inside. He reemerged as I staggered to a stop, my breath coming in labored gasps.
“Andrin isn’t here,” he said, scanning the stable’s courtyard. “He’s?—”
A high-pitched, whistling scream cut him off. The hair on my nape lifted as I swung toward the noise. An elk charged into the courtyard in a thunder of hooves. Shadows rolled off its back. More shadows slithered around its legs, as if it galloped in a cloud. Its eyes were black as pitch.
Rane shoved me behind him. He turned his head, his mouth a hard slash in his face. “Whatever happens, you do everything I say, you hear me?”
“Yes,” I croaked, my heart trying to pound from my chest. The elk thundered toward us. I cringed between Rane and the stable door as I prepared to be crushed.
The elk shifted into Andrin, who hit the ground at a run with his teeth bared and his eyes glossy black.
Rane surged forward, and the men clashed in a whirl of limbs and shouts.
“Andrin!” Rane shouted, grabbing at the king. Rane’s head snapped back, blood flying from his face.
A strangled scream escaped me. I hadn’t even seen Andrin swing.
Rane recovered, then managed to land a blow that knocked Andrin back a step. With a bellow, Rane lowered his body and charged at Andrin, tackling him around the waist and trying to take him down.
Andrin tossed him away like a rag doll. Rane hit the ground on his side but sprang back up as Andrin strode toward him. Shadows flowed off the king like smoke. His red hair streamed around his shoulders, and his eyes gleamed like ink.
Rane spread his arms as if in invitation. “Come on!” he yelled.
A malevolent smile curved Andrin’s lips. The ground trembled as he stalked toward Rane. “Do you hunger, Shadow Eater?”
Rane stood his ground, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet. “Yes. Let me help you.”
Andrin released a deep, mocking laugh. He launched himself into the air, clearing several feet of ground before slamming into Rane. They fell, snarling and punching as they rolled in the dirt. Andrin’s fists flew. The sickening thud of flesh meeting flesh mingled with Rane’s pained grunts.
Horror pounded through me. Rane was losing the fight. I had to get help. Easing away from the door, I kept my gaze on the men as I neared the paddock.
Another whinny drifted from the stable, and I jerked my head toward the doors. Oh gods. The poor thing was probably terrified. And terrified horses lost all sense, kicking their stalls until they went lame.
I hesitated. The animal needed help. But Andrin looked ready to kill Rane. And as much as I disliked him, I couldn’t stand by and watch him die.
“You!”
I whirled, my skirts flaring around my ankles. Andrin advanced on me, shadows flowing off him like ribbons. My heart seized, panic freezing me in place. His black eyes widened as if he’d just noticed me. Maybe he had. Either way, evading him was impossible now. My bright yellow gown might as well have been a target on my back.
Fury sparked in Andrin’s glossy eyes. “You have no right to be here,” he growled, his words overlapping as if several voices spoke from his lips. He reached for me.
Rane appeared between us. “You won’t touch her,” he snarled, viciously backhanding Andrin across the face. The blow spun Andrin around, and he staggered, nearly falling.
“Run!” Rane barked at me. He ripped his shirt off and tossed it aside. Feathers and vines flowed down his arms, the shadowy markings covering his skin like sleeves.
With a roar, Andrin tackled him. Rane caught my eye as he went down.
“Go!” he shouted.
I turned and ran toward the path leading to the castle. At the same moment, a black horse bolted from the stable. It tried to leap the paddock fence, but its rear hooves caught the top rails. Screaming, the horse landed with fencing tangled around its legs. Immediately, it bucked, ripping more posts from the ground and scattering them across the path. The thick pieces of wood clattered over the stone, creating an oversized dam.
With another high-pitched whinny, the horse finally freed itself from the fencing. In an impossible display, it leaped a jumble of fence posts and took off toward the castle. I couldn’t follow. The ruined fencing was too high to climb—at least not without being seen.
Men’s shouts spun me around. Andrin and Rane were on their feet again, their fists flying. And they were moving toward me fast.
I didn’t think. Just whirled and sprinted for the stable. When I stopped inside, hay floated in the air. Stacks of bales against the wall climbed halfway to the ceiling. Racing to them, I climbed, my chest heaving as I shoved my feet into the notches between the bales. Hay sucked up my nostrils, but I kept going, scrabbling up the stack until I reached the top. I scrambled to the wall and pressed my back against it just as the sounds of struggle exploded below.
“Andrin, you stubborn fuck!” Rane shouted. “Na-tesku!”
The sounds stopped. I held my breath as slow footsteps echoed off the stone. A moment later, Andrin’s voice sounded normal, and…broken. “Do you, really?”
“Yes,” Rane gasped. “Yes. Please, let me help you.”
The power grew, expanding like a bubble. My hair lifted away from my face, and a high-pitched whine filled my ears.
The stable doors slammed shut. Shadows flew to the windows, covering the glass and plunging the stable into darkness.
More footsteps. Fabric ripped, and I tensed, my heart racing as masculine grunts followed. Then Andrin spoke again, and this time pleasure curled around his words.
“Get on your knees.”