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To my surprise, Eldrion’s hand lands firmly on mine. “You’re not his,” he says, his voice laced with venom.
“Then whose am I?” The question leaves my lips before I have time to think about it.
When I turn to look at him, Eldrion’s jaw twitches.
“You belong to no one but yourself, Alana Leafborne. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
TWENTY
Alana
“Alana! Are you in there?” Fists are pounding on Eldrion’s door. He rushes to open it, and I follow behind.
“You have to come. Now.” Briony stands in the doorway panting, her hair coming free from its ties. “Both of you. The elves are here.”
“Garratt...” Eldrion practically spits his name and draws himself up to his full height.
“Not just Garratt.” Briony bites her lower lip. “He has others with him. Looks like every elf in Luminael.”
“This is good.” I stride forward and I’m about to take Eldrion’s arm when I stop myself. We are not that to each other. I don’t know what we are, but we are not in a place where we should be touching each other in front of other people. Even if the person is Briony.
“How is this good?” he growls, striding towards the door.
“We need larger numbers. The elves could?—”
“We do not need elves on our side.”
“You are being stubborn. Because Garratt double-crossed you, you’re going to let them walk away without trying to make them join the fight.”
“We do not need elves to fight with us. Have you ever met an elf?” Eldrion snaps, striding through the castle as though there is a fire at his heels.
Ignoring him, I turn to Briony. “What do they want? Why are they here?”
“Garratt seems to be leading them,” Briony says. “But he won’t speak to anyone except Lord Eldrion.”
We emerge in the courtyard. It is sunny beyond the castle, but those same ominous clouds still haunt us overhead.
“What is this?” Eldrion splays out his wings, fluttering them so that their faded colour is not noticeable.
Gathered around the outskirts of the courtyard, the Shadowkind guards have hemmed in the elves.
They stand in a close-knit group. Maybe fifty of them of varying ages, all with the same slightly pointed ears and short stature.
“You dare to show your face here?” Eldrion marches towards Garratt. He is holding what looks like a staff. It glows blue in the soft morning light.
Garratt draws in a shaky breath. His hair is sticking up in tufts and he looks older than when I last saw him. Beside him, taller than the rest, a Shadowkind I recognise.
“Pria? You stand with them now?” Eldrion glares at the Shadowkind, and as she moves forward, I catch sight of her guard’s armour.
“I stand with whoever offers me the greatest chance of survival,” she says matter-of-factly.
Beside her, Garratt rolls his eyes and a dark-haired elf standing to the other side of him tuts loudly.
“I should end you right here, right now,” Eldrion says, moving closer to Garratt as the other elves stand back out of his way.
“Perhaps,” Garratt says, holding up his palms. “But first, there is something you should know.”
“I have heard that before, and look where it got us,” Eldrion barks.
