Bound to the Elvin King (47 page)

“Maggie’s been faithful to me. I can’t say the same of your aunt, so who does the name fit?”

Eamon’s hands balled into fists as he rushed forward. Her bond mate’s hand shot up and blocked the punch.

“You learned to fight from my hands and Avrin’s, and could never best either of us. Why do you think you could beat me in a fight now?”

Eamon glowered at Talion. “I may not be able to win in a battle of brute strength—”

“Or skill,” said Talion, cutting in.

“But my mental prowess will see you defeated.”

Maggie couldn’t help herself. Maybe it was having Talion here that bolstered her courage. Or maybe it was just her foolhardy mouth getting the best of her. “Oh, please. In your dreams. Who believes this crap?” She looked to Andrian and Alanon, whom both seemed to be smothering grins.

“Maggie,” said Talion, a soft warning lacing his voice.

She shrugged sheepishly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Eamon took a few menacing steps toward her. “You’d do well to listen to your bond mate in this.”

Talion planted himself between her and Eamon. “You will stay away from her.”

Yeah, creep
.

When Eamon smirked and said, “I will? I don’t think you make the rules here,” her elation died. Shouting, he called out, “Sentries, come.” Once they entered, he ordered them to action. “Please grab our esteemed king and make sure he doesn’t move.”

They marched over to Talion, whose body emanated tension. Maggie’s hands clenched the blanket in her lap. Without weapons what could he do?

Though Talion tried to shake the two off, the scuffle soon ended with one of the sentries cuffing Talion on the side of the face while the other wrenched his arms behind his back. Talion growled and bucked, but the sentries still managed to tie his wrists together.

Maggie’s stomach lurched, and fear burrowed deeper into her. The red mark blooming on his right cheek grabbed her attention and wouldn’t let go. How could…. She shook her head, trying to find a coherent thought.
Talion taken out of commission so easily?
This…this wasn’t looking good for them.

Talion’s struggles ended abruptly, and he gazed at the sentries with a surprising intensity. What, did he think he could quell them with his sight alone? Or maybe he knew something she didn’t? Maggie scoffed at herself. Of course, he knew something. He was only the king. With any luck, whatever information he had would be useful.

Otherwise, they were royally screwed.

***

Talion fought the hands subduing him, but to no avail. When the sentries wretched his arms behind his back and tied his hands together, rage, shame, and worry gnawed at him. How could he protect Maggie now? He jerked his wrists experimentally. The rope held tight. They hadn’t left any slack, not that he thought they would.

He glanced at the two sentries, who still kept a restraining hand on him. If only he could find a weakness some— Recognition pricked at him. He froze, no longer fighting the sentries’ grip and, instead, stared until their names came to mind. His heart sped up a beat or two. “I recognize you, Pacil. And you, too, Tamrin. At one time, neither of you would’ve thought of betraying me.”

They’d been trusted sentinels—the highest rank a warrior could obtain without becoming a captain. Was there any of shred of that loyalty left? If so, he could use it. How much was left of their former selves? If they were like most darkindred, probably only the barest remnants remained.

Something like loss flitted across Tamrin’s face. “Time has changed. We are no longer the same men we were.”

“You are darkindred.” The yellow eyes proved it. Discomfort at that thought arose, but he ignored it. Darkindred were nothing new to him, after all. Disappointment replaced the hoped he’d held, though. He’d get no help from them.

“Yes,” Pacil said.

Talion nodded his head toward Eamon. “Still, to accept such a snake into your fold.”

Eamon laughed. “If you only knew how hilarious your words are.”

The giddy humor in his voice grated on Talion’s mutilated nerves. But he kept his mouth closed. Surely the idiot would spill the truth of his plans and how he’d come to be among the darkindred if no one interrupted. Such egotistical buffoons normally couldn’t stop themselves.

Eamon strode to stand before him and grinned. “Didn’t you know I’ve controlled the darkindred all along? Before Serrina died, she helped me.”

Shockwaves rolled through Talion. All air left his lungs, and his tongue refused to function. Serrina had…what? The meaning of Eamon’s words took time to sink in. Talion had known of her affair with Andrian, but never suspected her treachery flowed so deep. How could he not have suspected? After all, he knew her past duplicity well and was sure she’d been the one to hide her father’s prophecy where she believed it would never be found.

Eamon crossed his arms over his chest, the epitome of a gloating imbecile. “No words from the ever eloquent King Talion?”

Talion pushed away his befuddlement. “You’ll tell me of your role and Serrina’s in the darkindred.”

“I will?” A huge grin spread over his face. “Perhaps I will since you are soon to die. I can be gracious, after all.”

Talion ground his teeth. Eamon was one of the worst kinds of asses—one who thought himself witty. “You are too kind.”

“That’s what your human dog said earlier in one of…our enlightening conversations. You’re starting to sound alike.”

A growl reverberated in Talion’s throat, and rage boiled under his skin. If only he could get loose, he’d teach that little…. He strained his wrists against the cord anchoring them behind his back. The rough material bit into his skin but, as before, didn’t loosen a fraction.

“Now where to start?” Eamon said, making a great production of folding his arms and placing a fist under his chin. “Ah, I know. After Serrina’s dalliance with Andrian, we all know how Andrian left the court and took to a life of thievery.”

A choked mocking sound came from Andrian, who then bowed at the waist. “Why, yes, thank you for the kind reminder.”

Talion couldn’t remove his gaze from his bro…Andrian, who regarded Eamon with an intense, crazy glint in his eyes. When Talon had first entered the room, he’d been so preoccupied on assessing Maggie’s welfare he hadn’t given Andrian much notice. Something painful, and he’d believed long gone, caused his chest to constrict. So many centuries had passed since seeing Andrian up close. Other than the yellow eyes setting them apart, they looked disturbingly similar. But he knew as well as any other that darkindred could revert to their original appearance with time, so why did this surprise hold him in its grip?

Eamon moved toward Andrian, ripping Talion out of his thoughts, and turned that smug smile on Andrian. “No, it is I who should be saying thanks. You made it so easy for me to gain control over you and your darkindred. I never thought bringing down the human-loving royal family would be so easy.”

Andrian tensed, as did the other darkindred in the room, and said, “I trusted you by letting you into my camp, and you betrayed me. If I could, I’d tear your throat out…with my teeth.”

All didn’t sound well within the ranks. Had Eamon truly gained power over the darkindred through deception and betrayal? As the possibilities of that struck Talion, his heart pounded. Maybe the darkindred weren’t as loyal to Eamon as he feared. If so, could he sway them to his side? Did he want to? Darkindred were little better than animals. His gaze ghosted over to a wary Maggie, and in that moment, he knew he’d ally himself with any evil if it would save her life.

Eamon let out a derisive guffaw. “You haven’t so far, why would you now?”

“Oh, you know why,” said Andrian, a ferocious look entering his eyes.

“Then you’d do well to remember it, darkindred.”

Talion frowned. Eamon and Andrian appeared to be engaged in a staring standoff. While this normally wouldn’t bother him, he found that his impatience to know the full tale came to the fore. “While this is very informative, I’d like to hear the rest of the story before I die.”

Eamon rubbed his hands together and strode back to Talion. “We’re getting to the good part, so it would be a shame to kill you right now.”

Talion almost replied but forced down the urge. He wanted the damn story, and verbally sparring with Eamon wasn’t the way to get it.

The fool continued on with his tale. “So where did I leave off? Oh, yes, Andrian and his bandit group of men. Would you believe who came to them and offered them repentance?” He paused. “No answer? Well, I’ll tell you it was your precious veil in the guise of an old woman. Aistiane is what she called herself.”

Talion’s mind spun, and he nearly stumbled forward. Only the sentries’ grip on his arms stopped him from falling to his knees. Surely, Eamon wasn’t twisted enough to lie about the veil? If he weren’t, the idea of the veil taking on the form of a woman was staggering—mind-altering, even. Throughout the ages, his people had reported seeing manifestations of the veil. Since there weren’t enough witnesses to back up their accounts, though, most dismissed the sightings as due to flights of fancy or imbibing too much alcohol. Talion had always been of a like mind.

He glanced at Maggie, and though she appeared concerned over his reaction, she didn’t look at all astonished about what Eamon had revealed. Had the traitor already told her? He’d find out later if…
once
they got out of here.

“You look surprised,” Eamon said. “So I knew something the great Talion didn’t. In fact, I knew
several
somethings you couldn’t even have guessed at.”

The traitor’s gloating sparked Talion’s anger, but he contained it. Eamon held all the power…for right now. The longer he could keep the fool talking, the more likely it would be that he could find an opportunity that might offer freedom.

Talion recovered his voice, though it came out hoarse. “Tell the rest.”

“Aistiane came to the rebels and offered them a way to redeem themselves. They agreed to the terms.”

Astonishment roared up Talion’s spine. Andrian had been willing to redeem himself? His younger brother had always looked up to him, yet envied his position and power. This was what brought about his prideful sibling’s downfall. That he could have been trying to make things right…. With a deep exhale, Talion pushed away these thoughts for later and asked, “And what terms of Aistiane’s were those?”

Eamon’s face twisted into a sneer. “They were to find complete bond mates for the unbonded in Eria.”

Why was that so distasteful? “What grudge did you have against that duty?”

“Because they were to find those bond mates in the human world,” Eamon spat.

There were others who had human bond mates? As Talion’s mind took in the repercussions of that statement, he knew he didn’t abhor the idea as much as Eamon must have. And even Talion could see the potential pitfalls. It was this fear that had eventually driven him to bond with Relian’s mother. Knowing he had a human bond mate waiting for him at some later date was one thing—accepting that fact had been much harder.

He hadn’t made peace with it until Maggie had landed in Eria. To be fair, “making peace” wasn’t quite the right term. One simply couldn’t do that with Maggie involved.

Talion nodded to Eamon. “Knowing of your great hatred for humankind, I’m sure you took exception to Aistiane’s terms.”

“Of course. They”—Eamon glared at Andrian and Alanon—“needed to be stopped.”

Talion’s mind worked feverishly to put everything together. So Eamon had interfered and, in doing so, took control of the newly formed darkindred? Talion shook his head. The arrogance of the idiot. Though Talion didn’t know the whole tale, one thing was clear. How could Eamon not see it, or was he turning a willingly blind eye due to his hate? “Did you ever stop to think there might’ve been a good reason the veil tasked them with this job?”

“Good reason? To bring humans here?” Distaste coated Eamon’s voice.

A bitter laugh escaped Andrian. “Eamon doesn’t care that he’s destroying our world. All he desires is power and revenge.”

Eamon rounded on the darkindred leader. “Destroying our world? Ha! I’m saving it.”

“From what? From being overrun with humans who would allow the magic to return?”

“Eria’s magic needs renewal, and humanity was our key. Instead you corrupted the magic that would’ve allowed us to find these humans.”

Talion stilled the air in his lungs. He didn’t dare breathe and miss one word.

“We don’t need humans to renew our magic. The veil overstepped its bounds and didn’t know what it was doing.”

Andrian’s brows lowered as he glared at Eamon. “You’re a fool if you believe that.”

“You better watch your mouth, darkindred.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Eamon raised his right hand, palm up. “Oh, I might not be able to do much to you unless I kill you, but the young ones are another matter.”

Puzzlement seeped into Talion’s bones. Young ones? Was Eamon holding some kind of emotional blackmail over Andrian? It had to be something like that. Otherwise, what else could control Andrian to this degree? He’d never been pliable to anyone’s influence, except for Serrina’s.