Shadowbound, Book 3 (Coming October 2024)
The Starlight Sanctum
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One
Aric Solarian didn’t need his magic to feel the demon lords’ hunger all around him. Inside the Wrathgate, the stronghold of Sovereign Zaxos, the supreme leader of all the demon realms, it was a living thing, a roiling miasma that filled the room, thick as brimstone. The chains on his wrists and the collar at his throat were just another heavy reminder of his situation. He inhaled the heat of the Wrathforge, and tried to gather his thoughts as the stench of fell weapons being forged in the citadel’s depths wafted all around him and Zaxos’s courtiers slithered on the edge of his vision. Their shadowy forms gathered around him mottled the scent with their own as they called forth their own magics and exchanged their own murmurs.
He forced himself to stand tall, to hold his ground, even as it all reminded him, with every slow scrape of chain against metal, every seeping wisp of sulfur on the air, every hard gold gaze that raked over him—of what he truly was in the eyes of the demons. Not a great mage, as he’d once hoped to be, not a master of his craft, not a warrior of any skill. A pet, a trinket, a pretty, fragile thing to be paraded around and shown off, if he was lucky, and cast aside if he was not.
But not a threat. Never a threat.
He bit his lip to keep from wincing as the guards shoved him forward, and he scurried into place beside the demon prince’s chair.
Prince Malekith, the sole remaining scion of House Ixion, a once-great demon house now reduced to only one. Malekith, who had breached a human outpost for no reason other than to pluck Aric from his fate and put him on a leash as Malekith dangled the prospect of Aric’s knowledge of the human realm’s defenses before this assembled court. Malekith, who’d uncovered an unfortunate scheme by Lord Darioth to slaughter his pet human before Aric had truly served any use, and was left with no option but to slay Darioth instead, and offer the Sovereign the greatest prize of all: knowledge of how to dismantle the human realms’ wards.
So the story went. All according to Malekith’s plan, if Malekith could be believed. Yes, it was Malekith’s show. His grand performance, and Aric—Aric was just another one of his props.
He might have laughed at the thought, if laughter didn’t taste so much like his own fear.
The demon on the Onyx Throne rose, and the chamber fell silent, save for the clinking of Aric’s chains as the Sovereign raised himself to his full height. Slowly, he strode down from the dais of his throne, hooves clacking at a torturously unhurried pace. Sovereign Zaxos’s sight swept over the gathered court, and the air all but shivered with the force of his will. Aric’s blood curdled in his veins as the ancient demon lord fixed his burning eyes on him, and Aric had to fight to keep the revulsion off his face.
He was the reason they were all here, after all. The reason the demon court had been called to order. The reason Malekith had something to prove.
Zaxos’s voice was a low, rumbling growl, the sound of an avalanche in the distance. “Let the matter of the human wards be brought before the council.”
Malekith’s hand settled on Aric’s shoulder, a deceptively gentle touch. Aric’s instincts screamed at him to flinch away, but he held himself still. He deserved no comfort from the demon prince, not after what he’d done.
“We are prepared to present our invasion strategy, in light of the information provided by the human mage,” Malekith said, his voice a honeyed blade.
Zaxos’s eyes flicked toward Malekith, and for a brief moment, something passed between them, something that made the air around them sizzle. Aric strained to see, to understand, but it was gone in an instant, and Zaxos turned his attention back to the rest of the council.
“Then let it be heard.”
Malekith rose from his seat, his hand trailing over Aric’s neck before falling away. Aric’s skin felt scalded, as if he’d been branded, and he fought the urge to retreat, to hide. But there was no escape from this, no way to take back what he’d done. He could only stand there, chained and helpless, and watch as the consequences unfolded.
And pray that he might find some way to turn them to his advantage.
“Though it is most unfortunate that Lord Darioth sought to kill our golden mage before he could offer up the details . . .” Malekith jerked his head imperiously, letting their carefully woven story sink in. “It is my pleasure to provide you all now with a renewed campaign. One that will allow us to breach the human wards and strike right at their heart, if we have the courage to seize this chance.”
Aric watched him, his heart pounding in his ears. Malekith moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his every step a challenge, a taunt. He was a predator circling his prey, and the court of demons gathered around them were all too eager to be swept up in his wake.
But Aric knew better. He’d seen the cracks in Malekith’s facade, the moments of vulnerability that the demon prince thought he’d hidden. They were there, buried deep, but they were there, and Aric would cling to them, like a lifeline in the storm.
Malekith reached the center of the chamber, and with a simple gesture, a map of the human realm sprang into being, hovering in the air. Malekith traced the borders with his clawed fingertips, his nails leaving smoking trails against the glamor in their wake.
“Our intelligence has confirmed the placement of the human wards, as the mage indicated. The northwestern wards are maintained from three towns in quick succession as they lead into the Kingdom of Astaria: the town of Drindal, the city of Brenville, and the duchy of Wythe.” The glamor illuminated the three towns, strung like a constellation leading toward Astaria. “With this knowledge, we have devised a three-pronged approach to shatter their defenses and strike at the heart of their realm.”
Aric’s stomach churned. He’d given them everything they needed, all to save himself and Malekith from Zaxos’s wrath. But at what cost? His people’s safety was the reason he’d sought out the demon prince in the first place, but this—it was a death sentence for countless innocents.
Malekith turned toward him. “You have proven your worth to this council a thousand times over. Now let us finish what we have begun.”
A hush fell over the chamber, and for a moment, the only sound Aric heard was the pounding of his heart; he felt nothing but the raw, exposed flesh of his palms where he’d dug his nails in. He braced himself, waiting for the storm to break, for the accusations and recriminations to come crashing down.
Vizra was the first to speak, her words barbed. “Is this the best you could do, my prince? A mere mortal to do the work that you and your lackeys could not?”
Aric winced, but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Vizra was there when Malekith killed Darioth. She’d been part of Darioth’s schemes to lure Aric into their confidence, all so Darioth could steal Aric’s human magic for himself. Only by bringing the knowledge of the human wards to Sovereign Zaxos first were Malekith and Aric able to spare themselves from Zaxos’s wrath, and even then, Vizra had gained control of Darioth’s forces, placing her house on equal footing with House Ixion as one of the vanguards of the demons’ new war campaign.
“Vizra, you forget yourself,” Malekith said, his tone smooth, but with a dangerous undercurrent. “You are speaking to your prince.”
Vizra’s lip curled, a sneer of molten gold. “I am speaking to the one who claimed he would be sovereign one day, and see how that worked out for you, Malekith. Iff you cannot deliver the human realm into our grasp, then perhaps you are not fit to rule at all.”
The other demon lords exchanged furtive glances, their expressions hidden in the shifting shadows. Vizra was not alone in her dissent, that much was clear, and Aric’s stomach twisted with unease.
“You question my loyalty to our kind?”
“I question your competence.” Vizra’s words were like acid, eating away at the fragile bonds that held the court together. “For centuries, your house has coveted the Onyx Throne, but what have you to show for it? Endless war, and for what? Stalemates? Constantly beaten back from the humans’ borders as they devise new magic to repel us? If you cannot claim victory now, then perhaps it is time for a new dynasty to rise.”
The chamber was filled with the rustle of wings, the scrape of talons on obsidian. The demon lords were taking sides, their alliances shifting and reforming before Aric’s eyes. He had no place here, no voice in this deadly dance, but he couldn’t bear to look away.
On the Onyx Throne, Zaxos was watching them, his molten gold eyes burning with an intensity that seared Aric to the core. He was a predator, too, in his own way, and Aric was all too aware of the vast power that lay coiled within the ancient demon lord.
But if Zaxos was troubled by Vizra’s challenge, he gave no sign. He merely inclined his head, and the air in the chamber seemed to shift, the balance of power realigning. Neither conceding Vizra her point, nor disagreeing with it.
“Continue,” Zaxos said, and Malekith’s shoulders slumped, the tension bleeding out of him.
“Very well.” Malekith’s voice was a low, gravelly sound. “As I have said, we will use the human mage’s information to bypass their wards and strike at their realm. The first phase of the operation will—”
—And then Malekith was speaking, his words a tide that swept Aric away. He listened, dazed, as the demon prince outlined his plan, each word carefully chosen, each detail honed to a razor’s edge. It was brilliant, in its own terrible way, a masterpiece of deception and destruction.
And all of it designed to puncture the human realms—Aric’s realms—with a wound that could never heal.
The council of demon lords hung on his every word, their doubts and dissension momentarily silenced. Malekith might give off the air of a spoiled, arrogant prince used to getting his way, but there was more to it than that, and Aric could feel it, sense it in the way the other demons watched him. There was a power in Malekith’s words, a dark, seductive magic that lured them in, and by the time he was finished, it had ensnared them, body and soul.
