Death Bound (The Soulsworn Chronicles #1)

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

The night had fallen quickly, leaving only the faint glow of the campfire outside to light the tent. Bertha’s hands moved methodically as she braided my hair, her familiar muttering a soft backdrop to my own wandering thoughts.

“Can’t have you looking like a tangled mess,” she said, giving my braid an extra tug, more to tease than out of necessity.

I winced, but the familiar banter was comforting, something solid to cling to amid all the uncertainty. The endless road to the docks seemed to stretch on forever, and with each passing mile, the weight of pretending to be Aeliana settled heavier on my shoulders.

The sound of footsteps crunching outside the tent caught my attention, pulling me back to the present. The flap rustled, and Rhydian stepped inside, ducking slightly to avoid the low canvas. The cool air clung to him, making the warmth of the tent feel suddenly stifling.

“How are you adjusting to all this?” Rhydian asked as he unfastened his cloak, the casual tone of his voice at odds with the way his eyes lingered on me.

“I’m not locked in a cage, so I’d say I’m doing just fine.”

His lips quirked, but there was something darker in his gaze. “The cage just looks different. Doesn’t mean it’s not still there.”

I hesitated, unsure how to respond to that. The truth in his words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I looked away, focusing on the glint of the brazier. “No frostwolves, at least.”

Rhydian chuckled, though the sound was rough, more a scrape of gravel than actual amusement. “You could take them,” he said, his voice low, a teasing edge beneath the seriousness.

I glanced at Rhydian, catching the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t doubt it,” I replied, feeling the tension in the tent ease, if only slightly. His presence always had a way of making the air feel charged—heavy, like the space between us held something unspoken.

Even if he was a spy prepared to destroy me.

Bertha gave the braid one last firm tug, securing it in place with a satisfied hum. Her fingers stilled for a moment, then she straightened, brushing off her apron. “Well, there y’are,” she said. “All done up proper, like a princess should be.”

Her eyes flicked toward Rhydian, sharp as a hawk’s, lingering just a second too long before turning back to me. She didn’t approve of his lingering; I could feel it in the way her hands hovered protectively over my shoulders. “Time’s late, m’lady,” she said. “Best get some rest now. You’ll need it for the road ahead.”

I could feel the significance behind her words—the not-so-subtle reminder that a man, Warden Lord or not, shouldn’t be spending too much time alone in a lady’s tent after dark. The flicker of her gaze toward Rhydian said more than her words. It’s not proper, Princess.

“I’ll manage, Bertha,” I said gently, offering her a small smile, hoping to smooth over her growing unease.

Rhydian shifted, his hands resting loosely on his knees, but there was something in his posture that felt deliberate, watchful. “Just checking on things before we make camp for the night.”

Bertha sniffed, her mouth pressing into a tight line. “Aye, well, checkin’ or not, princesses need their rest, an’ I reckon it’s time for that. Ain’t proper to be lingerin’.”

“Of course,” he said, inclining his head just slightly. “Wouldn’t want to keep her from her rest.”

Bertha huffed, the sound low as she gathered her things. “Good, then,” she muttered, more to herself than to either of us. “I’ll leave ye to it, m’lady, but mind ye don’t stay up too late.” Her eyes darted to Rhydian again, her brow furrowed with barely contained suspicion.

The tent felt smaller as soon as she left, her departure amplifying the quiet that settled between us. Rhydian hadn’t moved, and I could still feel his gaze, steady and unhurried.

The silence settled between us, thick and comfortable in its own way. Rhydian sat down beside me, his movements slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure how close he should get.

“How long were you down there?” Rhydian asked, breaking the silence.

I blinked, thrown by the sudden question. “Down where?”

“The crypt,” he clarified, his gaze locking onto mine with unsettling focus. “How long?”

The mention of the crypts made my chest tighten, the memories clawing at the edges of my mind. I swallowed, hesitant. “Thirteen years,” I said finally, my voice quieter now. “Since I was a child. Why do you ask? The queen already has my service records.”

I couldn’t stop the edge in my tone. Maybe it was the frustration simmering beneath the surface—resentment over his status as the queen’s spy. Familiarity didn’t mean trust. And while his face was one I’d gotten used to, that didn’t mean I had to like the man behind it.

His brow furrowed slightly, though he tried to hide it. “That long?”

I shrugged, feigning indifference, though the weight of those years sat heavy in my chest. “It wasn’t exactly by choice.”

Rhydian leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t sound too broken up about it.”

I snorted, crossing my arms. “What’s the alternative? Cry about it? That place doesn’t care about your tears.”

His lips quirked at that, a faint, fleeting smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Cold and practical. You’ll fit right in the king’s harem.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I shot back, arching a brow.

“Take it however you like,” he replied smoothly, the firelight flickering across the lines of his face.

I studied him, the easy way he spoke, the confidence in his posture. He wasn’t like the other soldiers—there was a polish to him, something that felt out of place here. “What about you?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. “How long have you been playing the queen’s loyal lapdog?”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I’d hit a nerve. But then his smirk returned. “Long enough to know better than to answer that question.”

I rolled my eyes. “So you’re not going to tell me anything about yourself?”

“Why? Are you curious?” he asked, his tone maddeningly calm, almost playful.

“I’m trying to figure out why you’re so insufferable,” I shot back.

Rhydian chuckled, the sound low and warm, curling around me in a way that made my stomach twist. “I’ll save you the trouble: I’m a bastard. A noble’s mistake with a servant. Sent off to train with soldiers as soon as I could hold a blade.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his response. “That explains a lot,” I said before I could stop myself.

His smirk deepened. “Oh? And what does it explain, exactly?”

“You’re arrogant,” I said, ticking off the words on my fingers. “Stubborn. Cynical. And you think you’re smarter than everyone else in the room.”

His laughter was soft, but there was something sharper beneath it. “Maybe I am.”

“Or maybe you’re just used to people not challenging you,” I countered, lifting my chin.

Rhydian’s gaze swept over me, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle. “You’re not what I expected,” he said, almost to himself.

I frowned, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re clever,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “Quick on your feet. That’s rare in people who’ve lived their whole lives under someone else’s thumb.”

The compliment—if it even was one—made my cheeks flush despite myself. I looked away, pretending to focus on the fire. “It’s called survival,” I muttered. “You learn fast or you die.”

Rhydian’s expression shifted slightly, the smirk fading into something softer. “Not everyone learns,” he said.

The weight of his words hung between us, heavy with meaning he didn’t elaborate on.

“Is that how you survived?” I asked, meeting his gaze again.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he shrugged, his movements loose, almost lazy. “I’m twenty-eight winters old, Elara. That’s longer than most bastards with no title and too much ambition get to live. So, yeah. I’ve learned a thing or two about survival.”

“Twenty-eight?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. “I would’ve guessed older.”

His brows lifted, his smirk returning in full force. “Should I be offended?”

I grinned despite myself. “Depends. Do you feel old?”

“Only when I’m babysitting someone like you,” he shot back, his tone light but pointed.

“Babysitting?” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “If I remember correctly, I saved your life.”

Rhydian leaned back slightly, his head tilting as though considering my words. “But I paid you back when I stopped you from plunging to your death when you convinced me to climb the castle.”

“That doesn’t count,” I shot back, standing straighter despite the quickening of my pulse. “And it’s void now that you’re here as a threat. The queen made it perfectly clear—you’d kill me the second I step out of line.”

Rhydian didn’t respond right away. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers loosely laced together. But the way his knuckles whitened betrayed a flicker of tension. Finally, he said, his voice quiet but steady, “Maybe I’m here because I want to protect you. Spying just gives me the excuse to do it.”

The change in his voice—low, rough, and laced with something heavier—made the air between us feel thicker. I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent, letting the weight of his words settle over us.

“Do you know what happens to a soldier who survives too many battles?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “They start to see you as something more than just a weapon. A resource. They rely on you. Use you until there’s nothing left. And when there’s nothing left…” He shrugged again, the movement loose but bitter. “They find another. But loyalty gives you the power to fight for your own interests on occasion.”

I studied him, the angles of his face caught in the firelight. He looked younger now, though the shadows under his eyes and the hardness in his jaw told a different story. Twenty-eight winters, and yet he carried himself like someone twice his age. “Am I one of your interests?”

“You’re becoming one, yes.”

The space between us felt smaller. His knee brushed mine again, the contact subtle but enough to remind me how close he was.

After a moment, he shifted, clearing his throat. The spell between us broke as he straightened, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve. “I should leave,” he said, his tone lighter now, though the way he lingered betrayed him. “Before Bertha scolds me for not sticking to my rounds.”

I snorted softly, shaking my head. “Goodnight, Warden Lord.”

Rhydian hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze lingering on me as though he wanted to say something else. Then, with a faint smile, he inclined his head. “Sleep well, Elara.”

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving me alone with the crackling fire and the lingering warmth of his presence.