Page 123 of Bound to the Dreadlord

Soft. Barely there.

But I feel it.

I whip my head toward the far shadows.

A silhouette stands in the dark, just beyond the doorway. Sera.

She should not be here.

I move fast, reaching her in seconds. Her skin is cold. Her pulse is rapid.

"You were listening," I whisper, voice low.

She does not deny it.

"You are planning something," she murmurs, searching my face. Accusing.

I say nothing.

If I speak—I will lie.

Sera will know.

Her throat bobs as she swallows. She is not afraid. But she should be.

"What are you not telling me?" she presses.

My fingers tighten around her wrist. Too tight. "Leave it, Sera."

She doesn’t.

"Is it me?" Her voice barely rises above a whisper. "Are you going to use me for the ritual?"

The question hits harder than Xalith’s fists. But before I can reply, one of my brother interrupts.

“What, you think you’re that important? And what is a toy like you doing here? Really? You brought your pet here? Your brain is muddled, brother,” Maelrik interrupts, glaring at me.

“Pathetic,” Xalith replies. “A whipped dark elf is a dead one.”

I glare at my brothers and says through clenched teeth, “She’s my business, not yours. Whether I bring her or not is my decision.”

I force my grip to loosen.

"I would never let them touch you," I murmur before adding, “Go back to the bunker room. Rest.”

It is the truth. But it is not the whole truth. I want her gone. There’s no need for her to hear the rest of my words.

Someone must die and I already know who it will be.

Sera stares at me, I think she understands.

Not everything. But enough.

She exhales softly.

"I still don’t trust you but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Don’t betray me, Veylan. "

The words nearly destroy me.

---