Death Bound (The Soulsworn Chronicles #1)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I woke slowly, the world a blur of motion. My body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and something more—something strange and unfamiliar, like the lingering echoes of that power. My hands twitched involuntarily, my muscles aching. The cage was gone, but instead, I was slumped against something solid, moving with the rhythmic clopping of hooves beneath me. My cheek pressed against a soldier’s armor, cold despite the fur-lined cloak draped over us both.

“She still hasn’t woken up,” someone muttered nearby.

I kept my eyes closed, the sound of their voices dragging me back from the brink of sleep. The soldier beneath me shifted, his grip firm and steady. Rhydian.

“I don’t care if she says she’s a princess or a bloody chambermaid,” another soldier snapped, frustration clear in his tone. “She saved our hides back there, and more than that, she’s got cryomancy. That’s royal magic. Only the king’s bloodline has that kind of power.”

“She’s the princess. She has to be. But why lie?”

“Yeah, but everyone knows the princess had blonde hair,” another soldier cut in, skeptical. “This one’s got dark hair. Doesn’t add up… except for the eyes. Those icy blue eyes, same as the king’s.”

“She’s a skinny thing, too,” the first soldier added, scratching his head. “But it’s been thirteen years. Last anyone saw the princess, she was just a kid—ten years old. Who’s to say what she looks like now?”

“If she’s using cryomancy, she has to be royalty,” the second soldier insisted, lowering his voice. “No one else can wield that power.”

Rhydian’s voice sliced through their murmuring, low and rough. “Enough. Whether she’s a handmaiden or the princess, it doesn’t matter right now. She’s with us, and that’s all that counts. But keep your mouths shut until we know more.”

Rhydian was carrying me like I was something precious—after leaving me to die with those wolves. The thought sent a jolt of anger through me, but I swallowed it down. I had no leverage here, no power to speak of—except whatever it was that had erupted from me back with the frostwolves.

We were riding through a wide valley, nestled between towering, mist-shrouded mountains. Villages dotted the distance, their chimneys puffing thin streams of smoke into the sky. Children played, laughter carrying on the wind as villagers went about their work—completely unaware of the destruction, the deaths.

No mourning cloaks, no black banners. The thought sent a sharp pang of anger through me. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they understand what had been lost?

I shifted slightly, and Rhydian tightened his hold, clearly feeling my movement.

“She’s waking up,” he grumbled. “Stay alert.”

I wasn’t ready to face them. I needed to keep my thoughts straight. My mind raced back to the frostwolves, the ice that had burst from my hands, freezing those beasts in place. Me. Not Aeliana. The power had come from me. My skin prickled at the memory. I was just a handmaiden. A servant who had no place in a world of magic or royalty.

Or was I?

The realization felt foreign, unwelcome. What had happened wasn’t some accident. Magic had answered my call.

The castle came into view, its dark stone walls looming like a fortress of shadow. Even from a distance, I could see the runes carved into the stone, glowing faintly in the waning light.

“You’re awake,” Rhydian said. “About time. I thought I was going to have to carry you the whole way.”

I blinked sluggishly, my limbs heavy, my head swimming. “Oh, don’t sound so excited,” I rasped. “Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself doing the bare minimum.”

Rhydian snorted, his gray eyes flicking down to me as he adjusted his grip. “Bare minimum? I’ve saved your ass twice now, in case you’ve forgotten.”

I glared up at him, though it lacked any real heat. “Twice? That’s funny, because I seem to recall saving your life after you tried to leave me for dead.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice dropped, rough and clipped. “And who dragged you out of the Crypt of Silence, half-frozen in the snow? Who kept you alive when that magic of yours drained every ounce of strength you had?”

“Oh, so you want a medal?” I shot back, though my words were slurred, the effort to speak dragging me closer to exhaustion.

Rhydian’s lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smirk. “No, but maybe a little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude,” I muttered, my head tilting back against the fur cloak wrapped around me. “For the man who nearly left me to die? That’s rich.”

“I didn’t leave you, did I?” he snapped. “And for the record, even lesser nobles coming into their powers for the first time know not to overdo it. Certainly a princess would know that by now. You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself freezing that wolf solid.”

“I’m not a princess. And didn’t even know I had powers!” I hissed, though my voice cracked halfway through.

“And now you do,” he said flatly. “So maybe don’t kill yourself figuring out what else you can do.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the towering silhouette of the castle ahead stole the words from my lips. It loomed in the distance, its spires reaching into the gray sky like jagged knives. My chest tightened, dread curling low in my stomach. “What happens when we get there?”

Rhydian’s jaw flexed, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but laced with tension. “We send word to the queen. She’ll decide what to do with you.”

The queen. Ruthless and unforgiving. My throat tightened as I thought of the stories I’d heard, of the king’s crumbling sanity and the brutal decisions that had followed. “I should have died back there. At least the wolves would’ve been quick.”

Rhydian’s grip on me shifted, firm but not rough. “Save your strength,” he said gruffly, his tone softer now but still edged with frustration.

I didn’t respond. The looming walls of the castle swallowed us in shadow, and for once, I didn’t have the strength to argue.

We passed through the iron gates, which groaned as they creaked open. Massive stone wolves flanked the entrance, their sapphire eyes gleaming in the dim light, watching us like silent sentinels. The closer we got, the more those statues seemed to judge me—assessing whether or not I belonged here. If I was worth saving.

I could still feel Rhydian’s arm around my waist, steadying me after hours of slumping against him in exhaustion. I wasn’t in the cage anymore, but the cold had seeped into my bones long before they’d pulled me out of that trap. His rough, calloused hands tightened slightly as we approached the main courtyard.

The horse came to a halt, and Rhydian dismounted first. He landed heavily, the crunch under his boots breaking the quiet. His steely gray eyes flicked to mine before he reached up, offering a hand to help me down.

“Come on,” he muttered, tone thick with something that felt both awkward and resigned.

I grasped his hand, my fingers trembling from the exhaustion, and he lifted me easily from the saddle. My legs buckled the moment I hit the ground, nearly sending me sprawling, but Rhydian’s grip tightened around my arm, steadying me before I could collapse. His hold was firm, almost too strong, as though he didn’t trust me not to fall apart right then and there.

“Are you alright to walk?” His tone was gruff, impatient, but there was something underneath it—a flash of concern that he tried to hide behind the sharp edges of his voice.

“I’ll manage,” I said, though my voice came out weaker than I intended. I pulled my arm from his grip, straightening up even though every muscle in my body screamed with the effort. Whatever happened with the frostwolves had completely drained me.

He hesitated, watching me like he was still waiting for me to crumble. But when I stayed on my feet, he finally stepped back, though he didn’t stray far.

I could feel his eyes on me, that same wariness from before, and I knew what he was thinking. I had no right to be here. No right to survive the wolves. No right to command the ice.

He stood there for a long moment, the silence between us heavy with unspoken questions. And then he broke it.

“Why’d you do it?” His question was low, almost quiet, but the confusion in his eyes was unmistakable. “Why’d you save me? After everything… after the way we treated you… why didn’t you just let the wolf kill me?”

I held his gaze, refusing to flinch. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”

His lips twitched into a grim smile, humorless but sharp. “Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you had every reason to let me die. Hell, I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

For a second, I couldn’t find the words to answer him. My gaze dropped, finding the snow beneath my feet more comfortable than meeting his eyes. Why had I saved them? Was it some sense of duty? Compassion?

No. It hadn’t been for them.

“I didn’t save you,” I said bluntly. I lifted my gaze to meet his, holding it with a coldness I didn’t quite feel. “I was saving myself.”

Rhydian’s jaw tightened, his gray eyes narrowing as he took a step closer. The cold air between us felt sharp, crackling with unspoken tension. “Are you lying about who you are?” he asked. “You said you were a handmaiden.”

I blinked, the question hitting me like a slap. “What?”

“You heard me,” he muttered, his tone sharper now. His gaze flicked over me, piercing and calculating. “You survived the Dragon King when no one else did. You froze a wolf mid-leap, and you’re still standing—barely. That kind of power doesn’t just happen to anyone. It’s royal magic. It’s bloodbound.”

My chest tightened, panic rising like a tide. “I told you, I don’t know what’s happening,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I’m not lying. I’m not?—”

“Magic like that,” he interrupted, stepping closer until he loomed over me, “doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

My hands trembled at my sides, and I curled them into fists to keep him from seeing. “It wasn’t like I planned it! It just—happened.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw working as he studied me. “And you expect me to believe that?”

“Why would I lie?” I demanded, glaring up at him despite the exhaustion weighing me down. “What do you think I am? Some secret heir no one’s ever heard of? A spy sent by the Dragon King? Because if I was either of those things, don’t you think I’d know how to control it?”

“That’s exactly what doesn’t make sense,” he growled. “You don’t know how to control it, and yet you survived. You killed frost wolves with magic that should’ve killed you.”

“Well, sorry for not dying like everyone else,” I shot back, though my voice was weaker now, the effort of keeping my feet steady draining me.

Rhydian’s gaze flicked to my hands, still faintly trembling, then back to my face. His shoulders stiffened, tension rippling through him like a coiled spring. “You’re not telling me everything,” he said.

“I don’t know everything!” I bit out, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I planned to get dragged to your queen’s doorstep with powers I can’t even explain?”

His eyes narrowed further, but for the first time, he hesitated. The silence stretched, heavy and cold, before he finally exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Even if you don’t know what you are,” he muttered, almost to himself, “the queen will figure it out.”

The mention of the queen sent a chill down my spine, colder than the frost clinging to the air. “And what if she doesn’t like the answer?” I asked.

His jaw tightened again, but this time, there was no immediate bite to his response. “Then you’d better hope she has a reason to keep you alive,” he said bluntly, though there was a flicker of something softer in his tone.

I stared at him, searching his face for some sign of what he really thought. But all I saw was that same stony mask he wore so well, hiding whatever was simmering beneath the surface. He’d be handsome, if he wasn’t such a puppet to the queen.

“I’m not lying,” I said again. “I don’t know what I am, but I’m not lying.”

Rhydian didn’t respond immediately. His gaze lingered on me, sharp and assessing, like he was trying to decide whether to believe me or not. Finally, he stepped back, his expression hardening. “Then you’d better figure it out,” he said gruffly.

The doors of the castle loomed ahead, massive and imposing, and suddenly they felt like the gates to something I wasn’t ready for. Something worse than wolves. But Rhydian’s presence, his heat, lingered too close to ignore. His hand brushed mine as he moved past me, and I couldn’t tell if it was accidental.

We reached the base of the stairs leading to the grand entrance, the looming stone arches above us as cold and unwelcoming as the air biting at my skin. My legs felt like lead, every step harder than the last, and I barely noticed the loose stone until it was too late. My foot caught, and my body pitched forward.

Rhydian moved faster than I thought possible. His hand shot out, gripping my arm with a firm, almost bruising strength, and yanked me upright before I could hit the ground. The heat of his touch burned against my frozen skin, sharp and startling, like fire in a blizzard.

“You’re too weak,” he said. His hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary. “Let me carry you.”

“No,” I snapped, shaking off his grip, the word escaping before I could stop it. My legs wobbled, threatening to betray me, but I forced myself to straighten, my chin lifting defiantly. “I can walk.”

Rhydian didn’t move. He stood there, his storm-gray eyes narrowing as they fixed on me, unreadable but intense. His scar pulled taut as his jaw clenched, his expression darkening in a way that sent a flicker of unease through me.

“Suit yourself,” he said at last, stepping back.

I took a shaky step forward, determined not to falter under the weight of his gaze. “You don’t have to hover,” I muttered. “I’ll make it.”

“That’s debatable,” he muttered back, his tone clipped but not without bite. He followed close behind me, the heavy sound of his boots echoing against the stone. “I’m not dragging you up the stairs if you collapse, so try not to make this harder than it already is.”

I bit my lip, refusing to give him any more of my attention. Each step up the stone staircase felt like a battle of endurance, but I forced myself to keep going. I wouldn’t let him—or anyone—see just how fragile I really was.

We stopped at the massive doors leading to the throne room’s entrance, and Rhydian lingered just behind me. His silence felt like another challenge, but I wasn’t going to rise to it. Not now.

“I’ll be waiting here,” Rhydian said, his arms crossing over his chest in that infuriatingly casual way, like he wasn’t bracing for a fight but could spring into one at any moment.

I glanced over my shoulder, catching the way his dark armor, battered and scarred, melded into the shadowy stone behind him. Only his eyes stood out—storm-gray and unflinching, fixed on me like I was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“You don’t have to wait,” I said. “Whatever the king and queen decide to do with me is not your concern.”

He held my gaze, his expression flat. “I owe you.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. For a moment, I almost believed him—until the irritation flared again, stronger this time. “We’re even,” I said, sharper now.

His eyes flicked to the room ahead, then back to me, his face unchanged. “Doesn’t matter.”

I exhaled sharply.“You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“Funny,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”

“Then maybe you should leave,” I shot back, tilting my chin slightly.

“And let you stumble your way into more trouble?” he replied smoothly. “Not a chance.”

I turned back toward the door, my teeth sinking into my tongue to hold back the retort that burned on the tip of it. There was no winning with him. He moved through the world like a force of nature, untouchable and unbothered, as if even the smallest favor he extended was some unearned mercy.

And yet, despite the sharp edge of my irritation, there was something about him—something oddly steady, like a dark shadow cast over chaos, unyielding where everything else felt ready to crumble.

I drew in a breath, forcing my hands to still, forcing my heartbeat to quiet. What waited on the other side of that door was a kingdom’s judgment. The royals. The truth of what had happened. And whatever fate they decided for me.

I wasn’t ready. But readiness didn’t matter.

I pushed forward, swallowing the tight knot in my throat as I crossed the threshold, each step carrying me deeper into the unknown—where everything, everything, was about to be decided.