Page 7 of Bound In Shadow

She doesn’t flinch. For a moment, we lock eyes, tension humming between us. Then she leans back, exhaling. “Fine. Suppose I entertain this idea. What do you get out of it?”

I flex my shoulders, rolling out the tension. “A foothold in Pyrthos. Right now, the council sees me as an inconvenience—useful for certain tasks, but unworthy of full reinstatement. If I can quell unrest while simultaneously consolidating the farmland’s loyalty, I might regain enough leverage to stand against them. They’ll need me more than they fear me.”

Her expression becomes guarded. “Then you’d no longer be an exile.”

“Exactly.” The single word carries weight. It’s my path to regaining lost honor and forging a new power base.

She shifts in her seat, the chain rattling. “And once you’re restored, do you plan to tighten the yoke on humans again?”

I huff a short breath of amusement. “You’re quite cynical.”

“With good reason,” she mutters. “Dark Elves have lied before.”

I let a beat of silence stretch. “You’ll have to decide if I’m different.”

Her eyes narrow. “Or you’ll force me to comply?”

I meet her glare with my own unwavering stare. “If force was my intention, I’d have you in the torture chambers by now. Or tossed you to the council’s inquisitors.” I straighten up. “I’d prefer a willing arrangement, if that’s even possible.”

She studies me, wariness etched into every line of her posture. “For a moment, let’s say I believe you. How do I know you won’t hand me over the second I outlive my usefulness?”

“Trust is earned, not demanded,” I reply. “And yes, perhaps I’ll betray you if it suits me. Just as you might plunge a knife in my back if you get the chance.”

She smirks, the faintest curl of her lips. “You’re refreshingly honest, for a lord.”

“Honesty comes easily when both sides know the stakes.” I gesture at her manacles. “Let me make this simpler: If you help me stabilize Pyrthos from the inside—tempering the rebellion enough to keep the council off my back while giving humans a better chance at survival—I’ll ensure your people aren’t slaughtered in mass purges. That’s more than they’d get without my involvement.”

She’s silent, likely weighing her options. When she finally speaks, her voice wavers between skepticism and reluctant curiosity. “You’re offering me a lesser evil for a glimmer of hope. I’m not sure if I hate you or admire the audacity.”

I shrug one shoulder. “Feel as you wish. The outcome remains the same.”

She exhales, glancing away. A moment passes, the quiet broken only by the sputter of the torch. I sense the conflict roiling within her—self-preservation warring with loyalty to hercause. Perhaps she wonders if she can manipulate me as well, turning my plan against the council. The possibility that we might be using each other in a precarious dance doesn’t bother me. If it yields the result I want, so be it.

Eventually, she looks at me again. “I’ll need time to think. I don’t trust you. I don’t even like you.”

“That’s fair,” I say calmly. “I don’t need your affection, just your cooperation.”

She tenses, as if remembering her injuries. “Then at least allow me to recover properly. I won’t be much help if I’m half-dead.”

I gesture toward her forearm, where a gash scabs over. “I can arrange better medical supplies. Maybe even a small measure of comfort for the time being. Consider it a gesture of good faith.”

A bitter laugh escapes her. “Good faith from a Dark Elf. Quite the oxymoron.”

I ignore the slight, stepping back. “Rest, Lysandra. You’ll find I’m a patient man, but not infinitely so.” I eye the raw skin circling her wrists. The manacles have done their job. “I’ll have those removed soon, provided you don’t try to stab the first soldier you see.”

She lifts her shackled hands, bitterness twisting her features. “Maybe I’ll wait until the second soldier.”

Despite myself, I huff a quiet sound—something that might be humor if I allowed it. “If you demonstrate a modicum of restraint, I’ll ensure no one touches you without my approval.”

Her tone sharpens. “I don’t need your protection.”

“You do,” I counter, voice darkening. “This fortress is filled with elves who’d love nothing more than to settle their grudges on your flesh. I’m the only thing standing between you and them.”

She flinches, a shadow crossing her gaze. But her response is a defiant lift of her chin. “I’ll handle myself.”

I admire her resolve, though it borders on reckless pride. “Then do so wisely. I have a meeting with one of the council’s envoys tonight. In the meantime, I’ll send a healer and additional supplies to tend your wounds.”

Her lips press into a thin line. She doesn’t say thank you—that would be too far. I don’t expect it, anyway. When I turn to leave, the scrape of the chair against the floor tells me she’s shifting, perhaps trying to stand. I pause with my hand on the door latch.

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