Page 2 of Bound In Shadow

Soft laughter breaks from a few spectators. Xelith doesn’t react with anger. Instead, his lips curve in a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Bold words, coming from someone in chains.”

The soldier holding my chain clears his throat. “My prince, the council demanded we make an example of her. But you?—”

“I know what the council demanded,” Xelith interrupts. His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “They’ll have to wait.” He flicks his hand in a gesture so casual it’s almost dismissive. “Bring her into the lesser hall. I’d like a private conversation.”

The soldier tenses. “Should I inform the high guard?”

“No need.” Xelith’s voice remains smooth, but there’s an unmistakable undercurrent of command. “Just do as you’re told.”

The tension in the room thickens. No one dares question him further. With a jerk on my chain, the soldier hauls me along, and we follow Xelith through a side archway. The corridor beyond is narrower, less lavish than the grand hall, but still lined with flickering sconces shaped like serpentine creatures. My gaze flicks between them, searching for weaknesses, hidden passages—anything. But everything seems meticulously crafted.

I catch glimpses of more wounded humans in side alcoves, either unconscious or shackled to iron rings in the walls. My stomach twists, but I force myself to keep marching. I memorize each turn, each detail of the fortress’s layout. If I manage to break free, I’ll need every advantage I can glean.

We come to a wooden door carved with swirling runes. Xelith pushes it open and steps aside, indicating the soldier should take me in. I enter a smaller room with a high, narrow window near the ceiling that spills in a meager wash of evening light. A single table stands in the center, its surface scratched and stained. Two chairs face each other. Tapestries with hunting motifs line the walls, but they’re muted here—less extravagant than in the main hall.

The soldier shoves me forward, and I catch myself against the table’s edge, biting back a grimace. Before I can recover, Xelith’s voice cuts through the space.

“Leave us.”

“Yes, my prince.” The soldier drops the chain and backs away, footsteps echoing. The door closes behind him, leaving me alone with Xelith.

I straighten, my wrists still bound, chains dangling between them. My heart drums in my chest, but I mask my expression schooled into cold composure. Prince or not, I refuse to show him weakness. If he expects tears or groveling, he’ll be sorely disappointed.

He moves with a predator’s grace, circling the table until he stands directly across from me. A flick of his eyes takes in the bruises on my forearms, the tear in my stained leather pants, the dried blood matting my raven-black hair. I clench my fists, resisting the urge to hide my injuries from his scrutiny.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the chair nearest me.

I lift my chin. “I’ll stand.”

One silver brow arcs. “As you wish.” He sets a hand on the back of the other chair, regarding me in a silence that grows more tense by the second. At last, he speaks. “Word of your rebellion reached me weeks ago. Raids on storehouses, sabotage of farmland wards, incitement of slave uprisings. All led by a human with a gift for uniting the desperate.”

My throat tightens, but I keep my face impassive. “Is that a compliment?”

“I suppose it could be.” He taps his fingers on the chair, a slow, thoughtful rhythm. “Your forces spilled a lot of Dark Elf blood, Lysandra. The council is howling for your execution. Yet here you stand, very much alive.”

I snort. “I figure that’s a temporary condition.” Even so, I can’t fully mask the flicker of hope inside me. If he meant to kill me outright, he wouldn’t bother with conversation.

He studies me for a heartbeat longer, then exhales a soft laugh—quiet but laced with something ominous. “Not necessarily. I have… interests that could benefit from your continued existence.”

My shoulders go rigid. “If you think I’ll betray my people, you’re wasting your time.”

He steps around the table, coming closer. My instincts scream to back away, but I hold my ground. I can’t show him I’m intimidated, no matter how imposing his presence might be. He’s a head taller than me, lithe but radiating coiled strength.The silver markings on his forearms catch the torchlight, shimmering like serpents.

His gaze slides across my face, lingering on the bruise near my left cheek. “I’m not asking for betrayal. I’m offering an alternative to a public execution. Cooperation—under certain conditions.”

The chain linking my wrists jangles as I curl my hands into fists. “You can’t seriously believe I’d cooperate with you. Dark Elves have done nothing but enslave and torture humans for centuries.”

His expression remains dispassionate. “And yet, here we are, speaking calmly rather than tearing each other apart. That’s progress, isn’t it?”

I bite down on the inside of my lip. This man is toying with me. I sense it in the casual arrogance of his words, the tilt of his head. But there’s also a strange undercurrent—like he’s truly measuring my worth, testing how far I’ll go. “What do you want?” I demand, voice low.

He brushes a white strand of hair off his shoulder. “For now, I want to know exactly how you rallied so many humans under your banner. Resources, alliances, hidden caches—where did you find the manpower and the nerve to march on Pyrthos?”

A hollow laugh escapes me. “You think I’ll just hand over my secrets? If you’re trying to appear less like a tyrant, you’re failing.”

He huffs a quiet sound, close to amusement. “Very well. Let’s approach this differently. I suspect your rebellion isn’t entirely crushed. Your people won’t stop just because you’re gone, will they?”

My pulse quickens. He might be fishing for names, strategies, anything he can exploit to root out the remaining rebels. “You’ll get nothing from me.”

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