Page 1 of The Bound Mage
Prologue
Garrick Shaw steppedover the broken threshold of the fae palace, scorched runes crumbling under his boots. They had taken the palace days ago, but the air still stank of blood and magic. Soldiers sifted through the wreckage, glass crunching under their boots as they searched for anything of value. It had cost the Arcanum a great deal to take the seat of the fae monarchy—and even more to hold it.
“We’ve secured most of the lower levels.” The Commander escorting him scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing soot and blood across his skin. “Our forces are sweeping the western groves for stragglers. Any fae we can subdue, we bring in alive–most have stopped fighting.”
Garrick nodded. It had been the same in Aetheris—where they’d taken the fae so completely by surprise that their governors had been killed or clapped in iron before they even knew they were at war. Even Prince Loren hadn’t realized he’d been betrayed by the man he’d called a friend until the chains closed around his wrists.
But here, there was only one fae the Arcanum cared about.
“Where is she?”
“She’s taken refuge in the grove, sir.” The Commander shifted on his feet, tugging at the black sash that crossed his chest. “We’ve surrounded it…but our forces haven’t been able to get past the first line of trees.”
“Of course you can’t,” Garrick snapped. The Eldergreen wasn’t just another stand of trees. It was the soul of the fae, a snarled web of ancient power far older than anything that stood around it. It would protect her—or try to. "Let me try to speak to her."
The commander shifted his weight, his eyes flicking to the trees. “With respect, sir—I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”
“We have to act now.” Garrick shook his head, already turning away. “The king is still trapped on Eluneth. Take his queen, and Corwin Shadowbane will kneel. Fail, and this war drags on for generations.”
He crossed the ruined hall with long strides. He’d bowed here once, falling to his knees before the King and Queen who had deigned toallowhim to study the power flowing through this land.They’d welcomed him as their son’s friend—and now, he walked through their ruined home with a ring carved from the bones of their dead on his hand, the power they coveted so desperately burning through his veins.
The fae had brought this on themselves. For years, they’d refused to share their power—banning humans from their institutions and outlawing the use of amplifiers. If they had bent even a little—if he’d held even a fraction of this power when Selene fought to bring his son into the world, his wife would not have died in her birthing bed, one of thousands of humans lost to the fae monarchy’s blind insistence that magic belonged to them alone.
So now it would be taken from them—by force.
The air changed as cracked marble gave way to living earth, growing wetter and warmer with every step he took into theirsacred grove. Even the light was different, slanting through the twisted canopy like moonlight through stained glass.His ring buzzed against his skin, its hum deepening to a low warning as the grove’s power swept over him—and found him wanting.
Vines wrapped around his boots, forcing him to stop as the trees leaned in around him, thorny branches blocking his path. Magic lived here, but not the kind he knew. There were no structured runes like the ones his human peers used with studied precision, no trace of the channeled intentions the fae wielded as easily as they breathed. This was older—wilder.
“I just want to talk to her,” Garrick said into the crushing silence, as if the trees themselves might hear him. “No harm will come to her by my hand.”
For a long, tense moment nothing happened. The vines held fast around his boots, the air heavy in his lungs as that presence weighed his words. Then, at last, the vines loosened, the trees drawing back just far enough to let him pass.
“Thank you,” Garrick murmured. He pushed forward, branches scraping across his neck and shoulders in silent warning as he pressed deeper into the trees.
He found her at the center of the grove. Uncrowned, her pale hair hung loose, surrounding her like a silver cloud. She wore only a simple shift, her feet bare on the soft green moss that blanketed the clearing. But a sword hung loose in her hand, its blade dark and wet with blood and its edge still humming with magic.
She hadn’t run. Hadn’t begged.
She’d waited.
Garrick drew to a halt just short of the clearing, roots rising in front of him in silent threat. Their message was clear—the grove had allowed him to come this far, but he wouldn’t take another step without a fight.
“Your Majesty,” he said.“Lysa.”
She looked up at the sound of her name, and for a moment, he saw the queen who had stood at her king’s side. That female had smiled at him, welcomed him into her home. But this one–this one only looked at him, her fae-green eyes as cold as they were bright and wild.
“Your son is alive,” Garrick said when she didn’t speak. “Loren was captured without injury. He’ll remain that way–”
“If I surrender,” the queen finished for him. She lifted her chin, her hands tightening around the hilt of her sword. “Is that your offer? My son’s survival in exchange for me?”
Garrick held her gaze. “His safety. Your daughter’s safety–she’s still just a child, by your standards. What will happen to her if this becomes a war? This doesn’t have to be–”
“You think this isn’t already a war?” Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to. “You broke your word to us the moment you slipped that ring onto your finger. How dare you wield our dead as a weapon and speak of peace to me?”
“This ring only levels the field,” Garrick snapped, the protest spilling out before he could bite it back. “The fae have hoarded magic for centuries–”
“Hoarded?” She laughed, the sound ringing out bright and hard like bells through the trees. “Weprotectedit. But we failed to protect it fromyou.”
