The prince had to know he was challenging a god. To send so little, was merely to send his men to their deaths.
Rune…Alora called to him through the bond.
He turned, and for a moment his pulse slowed.
Alora stood framed in that golden light of an Elder Tree portal, hair rippling in the forest breeze, divine light dancing around her. She looked otherworldly. Ethereal. A goddess carved from sunlight and night in equal measure.
And she was smiling.
At him.
He could not remember the last time he had seen her smile without fear clinging behind it, and the sight struck something soft beneath all his armor.
She had waited for him.
He shifted, bones reshaping, scales vanishing from his skin until he stood as a man again. Wind tangled his hair. A wild, treacherous hope took root in his chest, as dangerous as any ray of sunlight. Perhaps she was choosing him.
Perhaps she already had.
A dark form lunged from the trees.
Prince Eldrik.
Alora saw him too late. Rune launched forward on his shadows with the speed of the wind. She reached for her dagger, finding only an empty sheath. Eldrik swiftly twisted her arm until she screamed and dropped it. The prince hauled her backward, dragging her into the portal’s light. Her wide, frightened eyes found Rune’s, her flailing hand stretching toward him.
His fingers nearly brushed hers.
But the portal spiraled shut.
And she was gone.
CHAPTER 46
Alora
Alora’s vision swam, pain throbbing behind her eyes. Her ears rang and she winced at the ache in the back of her head. By the Seven above, where was she? The light all around her was blinding. She was dreadfully cold and she couldn’t move. It took a minute for her sight to clear enough to squint at the strange gold markings above her.
Panic clawed its way up her throat when Alora remembered her abduction.
She jerked but was tied down on a stone slab with her limbs bound tight by cords of magic. Alora tried to call out, but her voice broke, weak and useless. Any attempt to jerk free caused the enchanted bindings to constrict more, biting into her skin like living thorns.
Rune!She called for him down the bond, but her voice bounced off a barrier. The bond was foggy and far away, as if it had been drawn out of her reach.Rune…
The glowing wards crudely carved into the stone wall and ceiling hummed, glowing so bright every inch of it repelled the dark.
They had locked her within a warded dungeon Rune couldn’t reach.
And her ring was gone.
Eldrik had taken her back to Argyle, and there was only one thing he wanted.
Alora looked down at the glowing markings on her skin and froze. She’d been stripped to her undergarments, leaving her bare against the chilly air.
Her heartbeat raced at the sound of that familiar derisive laugh. She turned her head up, spotting Eldrik sitting by a desk littered with glowing potions, strange artifacts and parchment. He leaned back in his high-back chair, drinking from a strange white bowl. Her father’s crown sat skewed on his brow above his pointed ears.
“Ah, at last,” Eldrik susurrated, voice virulent as poison, “I was beginning to think I had struck you too hard.”
Alora gritted her teeth, choosing anger over fear. “I am bride to the God of Shadows,” she said tightly. “King of the Netherworld. Touch me and he will?—”
