I nodded again.
His strange soft voice rumbled through the air. “I, Aedan, High King of Hemlit, offer you a mistek bond, bringing you into my house and under my authority, for the duration of the bond.”
A silver stream of magic rushed around my body like a spinning wind. It tightened around my chest and swirled ashes in the air around us.
What was I doing? I knew that mistek bonds gave the elf—or drekkan—holding it power to command the other. And what kind of kingdom had a drekkan as a high king? Did I really want to give the monster in front of me the ability to pour pain into my chest? To feel my emotions? To force me to do his bidding?
But what was the alternative? Watching Alastor die?
No, this was worth it. And he had said I’d be safe. I had to hold onto the hope that deception wasbeyond a beast’s comprehension. He only wanted this bond as a threat to Alastor.
“I, Callista, accept your bond, Aedan, High King of Hemlit.”
The swirling pressure sank into my lungs, freezing my breath for an instant, but then releasing it and disappearing. I felt nothing, but I could see a thin magic cord running from my chest to the drekkan’s wrist.
And then my twisted ankle stopped hurting.
Had he healed it? Or was my focus on everything else distracting me from the relatively small pain? I looked up into the monster’s green eyes, and I thought I saw that shadow of regret again—but it was a fleeting shadow. He turned away from me, picked up Alastor, and laid him next to the hole in the magic wall at the edge of the meadow.
“Take yourself home,Fae,” the drekkan rumbled. “The barrier is healing itself—leave before it closes. And if I ever smell your foul magic again, I will kill your sister.”
Alastor glanced at me. I forced myself to smile and wave, despite the nerves that made me want to vomit. He nodded and crawled to the edge of the meadow. Once he passed through the hole in the barrier, he collapsed, hopefully to rest and heal.
The drekkan swept back across the meadow. “We need to get you to the fortress. I…”
I looked closer at the monster. Was he nervous about something? Or was I misinterpreting his stutter?
He opened a fist. “The fastest way there is if I carry you. Is that acceptable?”
I raised a brow. “Doesn’t the mistek bond allow you to demand that I agree?”
His bright green eyes bored into mine. “It does, but I already told you I would not use it that way. I will only use it as a deterrent to your brother.”
Lovely.
He was a noble monster. He would only use the slave bond as a fast way to kill me. Relief settled on me like a poor-fitting cloak, and I nodded. “It is acceptable.”
Two of the drekkan’s clawed fingers wrapped around my waist and lifted me without effort. Icy wind smacked my face as we soared into the air, but I ignored the numbing chill. I had never seen the world from this perspective… and I didn’t intend to ever do so again. This was my only chance to see everything.
Miles of snow-covered forests flew past us. From our height, the land looked like a painting for sale in the human’s Tutum market. The scenes could easily convince me that the world was a calm, peaceful place with no loss, no mysteries, and no prejudice. But I knew better. And my thoughts bombarded me with questions.
Why did the elves have a drekkan king? Why was he more honorable than the monsters in Fotab’s stories? Did kings always act as border guards here? Why was he obsessed with a little rose bush? Had he enchanted it to bloom in the winter? And how was my mother’s magic here?
I couldn’t ask any of my questions because we flew fast enough that my voice would have been lost in the cold wind that rushed past us. The longer we flew, the more I appreciated the heat that rose from his fingers. Did he realize that his hand’s heat was the only thing keeping me alive on this frigid ride?
Well, maybe not alive, but it definitely prevented frostbite.
A black stone fortress started to take shape against the white snow. As we approached, my thoughts fuzzed—hisfortresswas more than just a castle. It was…
It was mind-numbing. I’d read about it. I’d seen sketches of it, but nothing could have prepared me for its reality.
The fortress seemed to float in the air 200 feet above a frozen lake. But when I looked closer, it wasn’t really floating. It sat on top of a stone spire that rose from the middle of the lake. One terrifying, long, skinny, ice-encrusted bridge spanned the impossible distance between the craggy shoreline and a wide courtyard protected by walls and a portcullis in front of the castle keep.
An almost-friendly looking town surrounded the approach to the bridge. Icy shadows glared at me from the other end—the end that touched down on the spire in front of the portcullis. Those walls and ramparts and towers rose like ominous sentries that wanted to keep me out.
I scoffed to myself. No stone wallswantedto keep me out. No, it was the elves who lived inside them that I needed to worry about.
And the drekkan who defended them. He hovered over the courtyard in front of the castle’s main entrance while dozens of elves scurried out of his way. Did they scurry in fear or did they appreciate his visit?
