Bound By Darkness by Alexandra Ivy Page A

me.”
    â€œObviously neither does sanity,” Jaelyn muttered.
    About to agree, Ariyal felt the familiar stir of air before a portal formed next to the wizard and Tearloch stepped into the room.
    Wearing traditional leather leggings and tunic with his copper hair pulled into a braid, the Sylvermyst looked painfully familiar.
    It was only when Ariyal met the fevered glitter in the silver eyes that he was forced to accept that this was no longer the friend and confidant whom he had depended upon for centuries.
    â€œAriyal, I’m glad you’re here, my brother,” Tearloch said with a faint bow.
    Ariyal deliberately glanced toward the shimmering opening his tribesman had left open. Among Sylvermyst it was an insult to maintain a portal when in the company of friends. It implied a lack of trust.
    â€œAre you?”
    The slender fey glanced toward the nearby spirit before at last returning his attention to Ariyal.
    â€œIt’s not too late to join me,” he said, a hint of pleading in his voice. “Together we shall restore the Sylvermyst to their former glory.”
    Ariyal frowned, disturbed by Tearloch’s odd hesitation. It was almost as if he had been seeking approval from the spirit.
    â€œWhat former glory?” he demanded, keeping his voice soft, unthreatening. “There is nothing glorious about slavery.”
    Remembered pain flared over Tearloch’s thin face. “We were slaves to that bitch. The Dark Lord will set us free.”
    Ariyal spread his arms. “We are free, Tearloch. Just look around.”
    â€œNo.” He shook his head in sharp denial. “Without the power of the master we will be at the mercy of the heathens who infest this world.”
    â€œListen to me, my brother.” Ariyal took a cautious step forward. “That is the voice of madness whispering in your ear.”
    â€œDo not heed him.” The spirit abruptly spoke, shifting until he could place a gaunt hand on Tearloch’s shoulder. “Clearly he now intends to sacrifice you and your brothers to the vampires, just as he sacrificed you to Morgana le Fey.”
    A ball of sick dread lodged in the pit of Ariyal’s stomach. Bloody hell. What had Tearloch done?
    â€œYou know he speaks lies,” he said, concentrating on the spirit who regarded him with a smug arrogance.
    â€œDo I?” the wizard mocked, maintaining his possessive grip on Tearloch. “You stand there with a vampire who is your obvious companion.” He glanced toward the silent Jaelyn. “Or is she your lover?”
    Instinctively he shifted to stand directly in front of Jaelyn, hiding her from the spirit’s dangerous gaze. For all her power, a vampire was always vulnerable to magic.
    Not that he knew why the hell he would bother. She was as likely to stab him in the back as to appreciate his efforts.
    For now, however, he was far more intent on his friend who was in obvious trouble.
    â€œTearloch, look at me,” he commanded, the authority in his voice rippling the air and making his tribesman jerk in reaction.
    â€œDo not,” the wizard hissed, leaning down to whisper directly into Tearloch’s ear. “He is jealous of your powers and he knows you shall be rewarded above him once our master is returned.” His malevolent power swirled through the room with far too much force for a mere spirit, battering against Ariyal with a dangerous strength. “Why else would he be so eager to destroy the child and halt your efforts to resurrect your lord?”
    Ariyal lifted his hand, muttering a word of command in the harsh Sylvermyst language.
    A smile curved his lips as the wizard attempted to speak, his face twisting with fury when he realized that Ariyal had managed to silence him.
    â€œMuch better,” Ariyal taunted.
    Something perilously close to fear tightened Tearloch’s expression.
    â€œWhat have you done?”
    â€œBrought a welcome end to the poison he is