Shadowbound: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Realm Protectors Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and back and somehow part of his mind thought he’d still be fashionable. At least he had the hat, no matter how tattered it was. At least it hid part of his disfigured, burnt face.
    “Is it true?” the King asked.
    Harold didn’t say anything, but felt both of their eyes fixed on them.
    “Is what true?” he finally asked.
    The King’s face tightened and he cleared his throat. “I know you are a Realm Protector, young man, however in my kingdom, you shall address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Your Royal Highness,’ understood?”
    Harold rolled his eyes, almost not meaning to, but the way the King spoke had left a bad taste in his mouth. He turned to Sahara. “Why are we here? I don’t want to have to put up with this bullshit,” he said. “There’s a Portal to close and I fear that if we don’t do it, then a lot worse will happen than me getting my hand sliced off and a city destroyed.”
    The whites of Sahara’s eyes showed in the dimly lit throne room. And she dropped her chin to her chest in something of a bow towards the King.
    “Forgive my friend,” she said. “He, as well as I, have just been through a most tumultuous time.”
    The King waved his hand. “Your apology is accepted, fair Sahara. I am aware of the troubles you speak, and I know you speak true about the stress placed upon young Storm, but still lessons are not learned unless taught the right way — ” He smiled harshly. “ — The hard way.”
    Sahara shook her head fast, stepping back a few feet away from the King.
    And Harold could sense the tension in the air, the uncomfortableness. Something bubbled on the King’s skin, shifted like a cat chasing a bug underneath a bed sheet. Harold found himself backing away too, until he nudged into Sahara and her hands found his shoulder, steadying him.
    The blubber of the King tightened. His figure seemed to expand, covering the flames, shrouding the duo in darker darkness.
    “Please,” Sahara said.
    But the King’s eyes had already turned to red pits of fire, and the wings exploded out of his back, stretching from one wall to the other. His hands changed to claws; the blubbery mouth shrunk away until the lips were gone and all that showed were large fangs the size of two Deathblades hanging from his mouth.
    Harold wished the Wolves would’ve howled then, wished for his own blade to defend himself from whatever abomination advanced on them.
    “Use your blade!” he shouted at Sahara.
    Sahara hadn’t done much but stand there frozen in the moment. Was it fear? Or had her body just completely shut down from the venom coursing through her. She didn’t respond. No blade came out. Instead she collapsed to the earthy floor on her knees. And she threw her arms at the monster’s feet, bowing.
    Harold could only watch with his face snarled up. How pathetic. Something the old Harold would’ve done.
    “Please, Your Royal Highness, please spare our measly lives!”
    Her hand shot out to snag Harold’s pant leg and her uncanny strength won and the grassy carpet greeted him head on.
    “Beg,” she said out of the side of her mouth.
    The King — or the horrible bat creature towering over them — laughed like thunder, his voice somehow many decibels deeper. “Now, my friends that’s more like it.”
    Harold’s arms began to fan the scaly, talon-like feet. A finger brushed against the thing’s razor sharp nails that protruded from the toes. He knew his life might be in jeopardy. Even if he had the key still embedded into his arm and Charlie had never gotten ahold of it, he still would’ve been in danger. Because the supernatural — whether it be the Hellblade of a Shadow Eater, the fangs of a Vampire, or the claws of some ginormous bat freak — had a way of being detrimental to Harold’s health. And now, without the key in his system, he was basically a sitting duck. A free meal set out on a silver platter for the King, who was no longer the King.
    But then the torches on the walls cast a hideous