Page 14 of Bound In Shadow

“And I,” I continue, “want leverage against a council that sees me as a disposable pawn. If we unite our goals, we might find a path that grants you some measure of independence—and me the influence I need to reshape Pyrthos.”

Lysandra presses her lips together, clearly skeptical. “Dark Elves have promised less cruelty before. It always ends the same: in whips and chains.”

“I’m not them,” I say, frustration creeping in. “But I can’t pretend to be a savior. I’m looking out for myself too.”

She exhales, wincing when the movement aggravates her wounds. Concern prods at me, but I fight the urge to check her bandages. Instead, I stand there, letting the hush stretch.

Eventually, she looks away, focusing on her manacled wrists. Her voice emerges quieter. “What exactly are you proposing?”

I settle at the edge of the bed, mindful not to crowd her. The chain jingles again as she tenses. “I’m proposing we keep you alive. Officially, I’ll tell the council I need time to extract information from you, or to break the rebellion fully. In reality, you and I work together behind the scenes. You feed me strategies or points of weakness we can exploit—anything that disrupts the council’s iron grip without painting a target on your entire race.”

Her eyebrows rise. “So you want a partial rebellion, controlled and directed by you?”

“A rebellion that doesn’t end in your people’s mass slaughter,” I clarify. “A rebellion that influences the fortress from within, gradually eroding the power of those who would see you as vermin.” I pause, meeting her gaze. “I know it’s not the grand freedom you dream of. But it’s a start.”

She snorts, but the edge in her tone softens. “You’re basically asking me to conspire with a Dark Elf against other Dark Elves. Talk about impossible alliances.”

“Impossible alliances are sometimes the most effective,” I murmur, recalling my own path that’s led me here. “You can keep fighting, or you can adapt.”

She’s silent for a moment, features etched with conflicted thought. Then she bites her lower lip, doubt flickering across her face. “What guarantee do I have that you won’t betray me the second it’s convenient?”

I lean forward, fighting the lure of her proximity. “Betraying you means losing the one tool that might shift the balance in my favor. I’d be a fool to discard that. And if I have a reputation, it’s for cunning, not stupidity.”

She mulls that over, still uncertain. My eyes trace the line of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. I can’t deny the strange pull. She’s enticing—not just physically, but in the raw force of her spirit. It’s not often I meet anyone who challenges me like this. That challenge sparks a thrill I can’t fully ignore.

At length, she exhales. “You want me to trust you, but I don’t see how I can. You’re a Dark Elf prince, exiled or not, and your people killed my friends.”

A pang of something like regret twinges in my chest. “I understand your anger. I won’t ask you to let it go, only to channel it in a way that benefits us both.”

She braces an arm behind her, posture tense. “I’ll consider it.” Then her lips curve in a bitter half-smile. “Seeing as my alternative is certain death, I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“There’s always choice,” I murmur, reaching out carefully. My fingertips graze the manacle on her wrist. She doesn’t pull away, but her entire body goes rigid with anticipation. “You could try to kill me here and now. You might even succeed if I let my guard down. But we both know how that would end—you’d be hunted, and the rest of your people would be massacred in retribution.”

Her jaw tightens. “Exactly.”

I swallow a frustrated breath. “Then we find a way to survive together. And if it goes sour, at least we can say we tried.”

She allows a small nod, though her expression remains guarded. “Fine. But I want proof of your sincerity. Release me from these shackles. Let me heal. That’s the only way I can begin to trust you.”

My gaze drops to the metal binding her wrists. The council would throw a fit if they saw me remove them, but perhaps it’s a necessary step. “If I unlock you, you must promise not to harm anyone within this fortress,” I say quietly, though my words carry weight. “At least not without my express approval.”

She laughs dryly. “You want me to sign a vow in my own blood?”

I smirk. “No, I want your word. As fragile as that might be.”

A beat passes. Then she lifts her chin. “You have it. As long as no one tries to kill me first.”

Accepting that, I slide off the bed, retrieving a small iron key from a hidden pouch at my belt. I step behind her. The closeness floods me with warmth—her hair, dark as midnight, smells faintly of sweat and some herbal salve Halren must have used on her wounds. The combination is strangely comforting in this grim fortress.

Fitting the key into the lock, I twist. The left cuff pops free, then the right. Her breath hitches as she rubs the raw skin around her wrists, the faint red grooves marking where the metal chafed her.

“Better?” I ask softly, stepping back.

She rubs a sore spot, relief flickering across her features. “Yes.”

I nod, returning the key to my belt. “I’ll tell the guards you’re not to be shackled unless you attack someone. But don’t give them a reason to question my judgment.”

“Understood,” she mutters.

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