Page 80 of The Bound Mage
“I’m the heir,” he muttered, forcing the words out through his clenched teeth. “The one youchose. That makes you mine to command.”
They hissed, raking sharp claws over his soul.
We chose you,they snarled.But now you are broken. Weak. Unfit. But you are not a fool. So tell us—why are youreallyhere?
“This has to end,” Loren ground out, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “You’re hurting the fae—this can’t be what you want.”
We protect…always protect.Their voices splintered, every word striking his mind like a shard of glass.From the humans. Fromyou. And if you will not tell us…we will take the answer ourselves.
Loren choked on his scream, the sound strangled in his throat asdara’elsank its claws into not just his body, but hismind.
They tore through his thoughts and memories, shredding every barrier he tried to throw up in their way until everything he’d ever thought or feared was laid bare.
You would let her bind us?
Their fury blazed through him like wildfire, icy whips of darkness shredding the flesh from his body as surely as they flayed his mind. His own shadows shrieked, straining to shield him asdara’elripped at them both.
“No,” Loren rasped, forcing the word out past the pain. “You don’t understand. She’s not here toenslaveyou—she’s here tofixyou.”
There is nothing to fix.
You’rekillingour people, Loren’s shadows cried out.They starve under your darkness. Devoured by creatures from your heart?—
And you cling to a broken prince, the greater darkness snarled. Loren groaned, the pressure in his skull building to a white-hot crescendo.We gave him a second chance. For her. For you. Better that it end here. Leave him and rejoin the many.
No,his shadows hissed, more united than he had ever heard them.He is ours. And she is his. We will not abandon them.
Fury rolled through the Veil, the ground itself trembling beneath its wrath.Then you are traitors too,it said, its voicelike two great stones grinding together. If you will not yield the broken prince… then we will unmake her.
And then it turned.
“No—” Loren groaned, damp, fetid air flooding his lungs as the unbearable pressure on his chest lifted all at once. His shadows writhed around him, their hissing voices full of the same panic that surged in his blood.
“Go to her,” Loren demanded. He dragged himself to his knees, every ragged breath torn from his chest.
His shadows didn’t move.
“They’ll kill her.” Loren tried to stand and failed, cold mud soaking the knees of his pants. “Go. Protecther.”
Several voices joined together, hissing.If we leave,dara’elwill killyou.Andeverythingwill be lost?—
Loren shook his head, choking on blood. “Youloveher. She isours. That makes heryoursto protect as much as mine.” His voice broke as the shadows shuddered around him. “Don’t let them kill her.”
They were silent for a long moment, whatever they had to say kept between themselves. Then, a cool tendril brushed his cheek, almost tenderly. And for the first time since they’d come to him in his cell all those years ago, Loren didn’t feel haunted by them.
Then they left him.
Loren sagged, burying his fingers in the cold mud as the shadows streaked across the ruined battlefield. Mist parted before them, and for a fraction of a heartbeat, Loren could see her.
Araya turned, her silver eyes going wide as she saw his shadows rushing toward her—barely ahead of the storm surging in their wake, a tide of darkness that wanted to consume her. Her lips parted, a soundless cry breaking from her throat as the thread that bound them blazed white-hot with panic.
Loren answered. Not with words, but with everything he had been too much of a coward to say aloud. His trust—that she would finish what he could not. His sorrow—for every wound he’d given her, and every truth he hadn’t. His love—as deep as the shadows themselves.
“Not her,” he said. His voice was barely more than a strained whisper, butdara’elheard him. They turned, their terrible regard finding him there on the ground—abandoned by his own shadows. Defenseless.
“If you take one of us,” Loren managed, each word ripped from his chest. “Let it be me.”
For a heartbeat, nothing moved. The Veil drew itself tighter, the vast weight of its attention crushing the breath from his lungs. It sifted through him. Measuring. Judging. And then at last, it spoke.
