Death Bound (The Soulsworn Chronicles #1)

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

The cabin aboard the ship was dimly lit, the lanterns casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The ship creaked and groaned with each wave, its timbers strained by the relentless ocean. The atmosphere inside was heavy with the scent of salt, damp wood, and the underlying tension of captives and captors occupying the same cramped space.

I sat rigid at the long table in the center of the room, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, though my heart pounded in my chest. Across from me, the Dragon King lounged in a chair, his tall, muscled frame draped in dark leather armor, dark hair tied up on top of his head. His eyes tracked my every movement like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His presence was overwhelming, commanding, as though the very air in the room bent to his will.

Rhydian stood beside me, his broad shoulders tense, his eyes constantly shifting between the Dragon King’s men. They moved through the cabin with a quiet efficiency, setting platters of roasted meat and bread on the table as though this were some ordinary meal, not a dinner forced upon prisoners.

The tension in the air was thick, almost unbearable. Ambassador Thorne sat next to me, sweating profusely, his fine robes of crimson and gold now rumpled and stained from the rough treatment he had received on deck. His hands trembled as he fidgeted, glancing nervously between me, Rhydian, and the Dragon King.

“Is Bertha okay?” I whispered to Rhydian.

“She’s safe, locked up downstairs,” he replied.

“This is madness,” Thorne muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He tried to sit up straighter, but the fear in his eyes betrayed him. “You will pay. King Ciaran will not allow this. You’ll be richly rewarded if you let me go. Name your price!”

The Dragon King’s lip curled into a slow, dangerous smile. His hand rested casually on the hilt of a dagger at his waist. “A ransom, you say?” he mused. “Do you think I’m some common pirate, Ambassador?”

Thorne blinked, clearly unsure of what to say. “You must know who I am,” he stammered. “I’m an envoy of Emberfall! The king will pay whatever you ask. Just—just name your price, and we can end this madness.”

The Dragon King chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing as he studied Thorne like a wolf sizing up a sheep. “Emberfall,” he repeated. “What is Emberfall to me? You think I want your gold? Your king is a man who hides behind walls of stone and steel. He wouldn’t dare cross the seas for the likes of you. I’m more concerned with the alliances he makes.”

Thorne’s face drained of color, his desperation growing with each passing second. “You don’t understand,” he insisted. “King Ciaran values me. He’ll pay—he’ll pay handsomely! Emberfall does not abandon its own!”

The Dragon King’s smirk faded, and his eyes darkened with annoyance. He stood, moving with a deadly grace that sent a shiver down my spine. In one swift motion, he pulled a dagger from his belt, the blade gleaming in the dim light.

“Enough,” the Dragon King growled. Without another word, he flung the dagger across the table.

The blade struck Thorne squarely in the eye with a sickening thunk, and for a moment, there was only stunned silence. Blood sprayed across the table, splattering the plates of untouched food. Thorne’s body jerked, his mouth opening in a silent scream, before he slumped forward, the dagger protruding from his skull hitting the table with a dull thud.

I recoiled in horror, my stomach lurching as I stared at the gruesome scene in front of me. The blood pooled, seeping into the bread and soaking the tablecloth. I was disgusted by the needless death, but also the waste of food.

The Dragon King, utterly unfazed, sat back down in his chair and wiped his hands clean with a cloth. His eyes flicked to me, amusement dancing in their depths as if the murder he had just committed was little more than a trivial matter.

“Emberfall will not miss him,” he said casually. “Now, let’s talk.”

Something in his tone—a familiarity, a mocking playfulness—set off alarm bells in my mind. I stared at him, the memory of another time, another place, creeping into my thoughts. The masked soldier who had given me food, who had stood guard outside my cell, who had… Valen.

I inhaled sharply, my eyes narrowing as I finally saw through the charade. “Valen,” I exhaled, the name tasting like betrayal on my tongue. His smirk grew into something almost feral, a twisted pleasure dancing in his eyes.

“So, you finally figured it out,” he drawled. He leaned forward, the movement slow and deliberate, the space between us shrinking with every second. “I was curious about the girl who wasn’t worthy of death, I suppose. Wanted to give you a fighting chance to get your revenge.”

The mention of revenge ignited a fire in my chest, a cold fury that surged through my veins, demanding release. Without thinking, I thrust my hands out, feeling the surge of power gather at my fingertips. A stream of ice shot forth, sharp and deadly, like the edge of a blade honed by anger and desperation. The icy blast tore through the air, aimed straight at him, as if it could pierce through his smug exterior and strike at whatever darkness lay beneath.

But before the ice could even come close to him, flames erupted from his hands, blazing with a heat that made the air shimmer. The fire met my ice head-on, and for a moment, they clashed in a violent dance of opposites—fire and ice, heat and cold, destruction and creation. The steam that followed was thick and oppressive, wrapping around us like a veil, obscuring everything else.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle as his flames devoured my ice, turning it to nothing but mist. His lips curled into a smile, as if this battle, this exchange of power, was nothing more than foreplay to him, a prelude to something much darker, much deeper.

“Am I worthy yet?” I spat. I hated him, hated the way he looked at me, the way he seemed to savor every moment of this twisted game. But beneath that hate was something else, something that made my heart race in a way I couldn’t explain.

He tilted his head slightly, watching me with those intense, unreadable eyes. The way he moved, so slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world, only made my anger burn hotter. But he wasn’t angry, wasn’t even annoyed. No, the Dragon King was enjoying this, taking pleasure in watching me struggle, watching me fight.

“Not quite,” he murmured, his voice a low, sensual rumble that sent shivers down my spine. The flames still flashed around his hands, a reminder of the power he wielded so effortlessly, a power that had just nullified my own. He stood up again and took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us, and my heart pounded in response, a wild, erratic beat that matched the chaotic swirl of emotions inside me.

He reached out, his fingers brushing the misty remnants of my attack, as if toying with the last traces of my power. “But I’m impressed,” he continued, his tone softening into something almost intimate, almost seductive. “You’ve got fire in you, Princess.”

The way he said princess was a caress, a whisper of a promise that made my skin tingle. He knew exactly what he was doing. And the worst part was that he seemed to be savoring every moment of it, enjoying the way I bristled, the way I tried to fight back even though he held all the power.

I hated that he made me feel this way—so powerless, so vulnerable, yet so maddeningly drawn to him. “What do you want with me?”

He smiled then, a slow, dangerous smile that sent a chill through me despite the heat of his flames. “What do I want?” he echoed. “Everything, Princess. I want everything.”

He leaned back, surveying me with the same intensity he had when he’d first appeared on the deck. “This is a mighty fine ship,” he began, his tone smooth and deceptively casual. “I hear the King of Emberfall will be greeting you when you reach the port. I’d like to meet him myself.”

My pulse quickened as I struggled to comprehend his plan. “What do you mean?” I asked, though a deep sense of dread was already unfurling in my chest.

The Dragon King’s eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction. “Let’s just say it’s easier to get past his defenses this way.”

“His defenses?”

The Dragon King’s expression darkened, his lips curling into a grim smile. “King Ciaran hides his claws well. His defenses surpass even Icespire—they’re clever, brutal, and far more advanced than most realize.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Before you, the boundary was impenetrable. It lasted?—”

“Centuries,” he cut in, waving a dismissive hand. “Until it didn’t. But Emberfall’s strength doesn’t lie in static barriers like that outdated monstrosity. It’s in their ingenuity, their willingness to bend morality in the name of survival. Bombs, for instance—powerful enough to sink a fleet and maim a dragon.”

I was surprised to hear the Dragon King speak of his weaknesses so openly. It gave me hope that I’d be safe in Emberfall.

“Ciaran has bombs designed to obliterate, strategically placed for maximum devastation. And Seekers —those cursed power-wielders with their unerring ability to target life. Once their magic locks onto you, there’s no escape. Emberfall doesn’t just defend itself. It hunts.”

My breath hitched as the implications sharpened. “So this ship… you’re going to hide here then…”

He paused, his expression sharpening into something razor-edged. “Exactly. I’ll be a weapon disguised as diplomacy. I just need to get close. He won’t deploy bombs on his own soil. I just need to kill your future husband at the greeting party. And thanks to you, my dear, I will.”

I stared at him, hatred and a sick fascination warring within me. “And you think I’ll just go along with this?”

Valen—no, the Dragon King—tilted his head, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I think you will,” he whispered, leaning so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Because if you don’t, the blood of every innocent who dies will be on your hands.”

His words were a cold, calculated threat. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to do anything to shatter the grip he had on me, but I was trapped. Trapped by my own fear, by my own helplessness.

The Dragon King turned his gaze from me to Rhydian. Rhydian, ever the stoic, held his ground, his expression unreadable, though I could see the tension in the set of his shoulders.

“Interesting,” he murmured as if he were examining specimens rather than people. He walked closer to him, circling slowly. Rhydian didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle, his eyes locked straight ahead.

The Dragon King paused in front of Rhydian, his expression almost curious. “And who is this man to you, Princess?” he asked, his tone deceptively light as he turned his gaze back to me. “A soldier? A loyal servant? Or something more?”

I could feel the way he was probing for a weakness, for something he could use against me. My mind raced, searching for an answer that wouldn’t betray the bond Rhydian and I had forged. “Someone who owes me a life debt,” I said evenly, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “Nothing more.”

The Dragon King’s eyes flicked back to Rhydian, and I could see the gears turning in his mind, calculating, considering. “A life debt,” he repeated, almost as if the concept amused him. “How quaint.” He paused, then nodded as if he had made a decision. “Well, if you don’t want to collect on that life debt just yet, I suggest you don’t try anything… unwise.”

He gestured to one of his soldiers, a silent command that made me tense up. The soldier stepped forward, his movements quick and efficient, and grabbed Rhydian by the arm.

“No!” I screamed, my voice cracking with desperation as I lunged forward, only to be met with the Dragon King’s cold, unyielding gaze. His men dragged Rhydian toward the door.

Rhydian shook his head at me, his eyes stern but resigned. “Sit down,” he commanded. “Don’t make this worse.”

The Dragon King watched the exchange with mild interest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Caring for people can be a weakness, Princess,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You showed your hand when you saved him earlier. A little too sentimental, don’t you think?”

He waited for me to respond, his gaze never wavering. I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat, choked by the fear that had settled deep in my chest.

The Dragon King took a step closer to me, his presence overwhelming as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur meant only for my ears. “Since our dinner is ruined, come with me,” he said, his tone smooth and commanding. “It’s almost sunrise, and I want to show you something.”

He didn’t wait for my response. With a flick of his wrist, he signaled his men to take Rhydian away. As he was dragged out of the room, Rhydian’s eyes met mine one last time, a silent plea for me to stay alive. I wasn’t sure if it was for my sake or his.

Once he was gone, the Dragon King turned his full attention back to me, his smirk widening as he extended a hand. “Shall we, Princess?”

I stared at his outstretched hand, hesitating. Every instinct screamed at me not to trust him, not to take that hand. But the thought of Rhydian and Bertha, held prisoner because of me, pushed me to my feet. I had no choice. Not yet. So I took his hand, the warmth of his touch almost burning against my cold skin. His smirk deepened as our fingers intertwined, a spark of something dangerous passing between us.

“Smart choice,” he said, his voice a velvet caress that sent unwanted shivers down my spine.

“You make it sound like I had one,” I shot back, my tone sharp, though my hand trembled slightly in his grasp.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating through the air between us. “You always have a choice. It’s just a matter of making the right one.”

The way he said it, as if there were only one correct answer and he already knew it, made me grit my teeth. “You must enjoy these little games of yours,” I said as he led me toward the door, his grip on my hand never loosening.

“Games make life more interesting,” he replied, glancing back at me with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Besides, you play them too, whether you admit it or not.”

I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I let the silence stretch between us, hoping it would make him drop my hand. But when we stepped out onto the deck, he didn’t release me. If anything, his grip tightened as if he were staking a claim. The sky above was still dark, the stars beginning to fade as the first hints of dawn crept over the horizon.

He stopped at the edge of the deck, his gaze fixed on the horizon as the wind whipped through his dark hair. I felt a strange pull, a magnetic force that kept me close to him, despite everything in me screaming to run.

“What are we doing out here?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he replied, a note of excitement in his voice that only made me more uneasy. He raised his hand, a gesture of power and command. The air around us shifted, crackling with energy, and before I could react, I felt his arm wrap around my waist, pulling me close.

My immediate instinct was to shove him away, but his grip was ironclad, unyielding. “Let go of me,” I snapped, struggling against him, hating how natural it felt to be this close to him, how his warmth seeped into me, chasing away the chill of the morning air.

“Hold on tight,” he replied, ignoring my protest. I could feel the power radiating from him, a raw, unbridled energy that sent shivers down my spine. It was the same power I had felt in the crypt, the same overwhelming force that had shattered my world.

“I said let go!” I twisted in his grip, but he didn’t budge.

“Suit yourself,” he said, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as if he found my resistance amusing. There was a dark promise in his gaze, something that said he enjoyed this—enjoyed seeing me struggle against him, knowing I had no real power here.

Before I could react, he made another subtle motion with his free hand, and suddenly, the air around us shifted, vibrating with magic. A moment later, a force unlike anything I’d ever experienced yanked us upward, pulling us off the deck with a powerful surge. I gasped, my stomach lurching as the ground disappeared beneath us, my hand instinctively clutching his tunic as the world spun around me.

The sensation of being lifted into the sky, the wind whipping past us, was overwhelming. I felt the power of his magic, the raw energy coursing through him and into me, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying. I wanted to pull away, to break free, but I couldn’t. I was trapped, held in place by the force of his will.

“Enjoying the view, Princess?” he murmured as we soared higher. I could hear the smirk in his voice, could feel his enjoyment as he watched me struggle to regain my composure.

“Not particularly,” I managed to grind out, though my voice was shaky, and I could feel my grip on him tightening involuntarily as the ocean stretched out beneath us, a dark, endless expanse.

“Shame,” he replied, his tone almost mocking. “I thought you’d appreciate the sunrise. It’s one of the few beautiful things left in this world.”

The dragon appeared beneath us, its massive form slicing through the sky with a terrifying grace. The creature let out a roar, the sound vibrating through the air as it surged forward, its wings cutting through the wind with powerful strokes. The Dragon King didn’t hesitate. With a swift, fluid motion, he guided us onto the dragon’s back, landing us squarely between the creature’s massive wings.

I let out a scream as the dragon swooped, my heart pounding in my chest. The sensation of soaring through the sky, the wind ripping at my clothes, the ocean far below, it was all too much. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to look down, refusing to acknowledge the impossible reality of what was happening.

“Open your eyes, Princess.” His demand cut through my terror, commanding and unyielding. His hand remained on my waist, anchoring me to the dragon’s back. “Look.”

“I’d rather not,” I shot back as I clung to him, hating that I had to rely on him, that I had no choice but to trust him at this moment.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he leaned in closer. “You’re missing the best part. Don’t you want to see what the world looks like when you’re not stuck in a cage?”

The challenge in his voice sparked something in me, and slowly, I opened my eyes. The ocean stretched out beneath us, endless and dark, the surface glittering with the first light of dawn. The sky shifted from deep blues to soft pinks and fiery oranges, a breathtaking display of color that seemed to set the world on fire. The dragon flew straight toward it, its massive wings cutting through the air with a terrifying grace, each stroke sending us soaring higher.

It was beautiful, and I hated that he was right. Hated that he had given me this moment, this glimpse of something so astonishing, when all I wanted was to see him fall.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Not as much as you seem to be,” I retorted, my grip tightening on his tunic as the dragon banked sharply, sending us into a dizzying dive. I screamed again, clutching at him for dear life, and I felt his hand tighten around my waist, holding me steady.

“Hold on tight, Princess,” he murmured, his voice almost gentle now, a stark contrast to the chaos around us. “The ride’s not over yet.”

The Dragon King didn’t seem satisfied with just giving me a view of the sunrise. With a sudden, exhilarating rush, he urged the dragon forward. The force of the wind ripped through my hair, whipping it around my face as we flew faster, the ocean below us blurring into a dark, endless expanse.

We circled above the water, and the beast let out a deep, rumbling sound, almost like a purr of contentment, as if it reveled in the thrill of the ride as much as its master did. I glanced down at the dragon’s massive form, its scales hard and gleaming like polished obsidian.

Tentatively, I reached out and stroked the dragon’s scales, half expecting it to snap at me or throw me off its back. Instead, the creature responded with another rumble of satisfaction, its entire body vibrating with the sound. The Dragon King noticed my tentative touch and chuckled, the sound almost lost in the roar of the wind.

“He likes you,” he said. “Dragons are more intelligent than most people give them credit for. They know who’s worthy.”

“Worthy?” I shot back, though my voice wavered as the dragon suddenly dove, plummeting toward the ocean in a dizzying descent. My stomach lurched, and I clung to him, my hands fisting in his tunic as the world spun around us.

We skimmed the surface of the water, the ocean spray misting up around us, catching the first light of dawn and turning it into a million tiny rainbows. The dragon’s wings beat with a powerful rhythm, each stroke sending us soaring back up into the sky, only to dive again in a series of breathtaking swoops and turns that left me gasping for air.

Just weeks ago, I was an isolated girl trapped in the crypts, with no life experience, no knowledge of the world beyond those icy walls. And now… now I was on the back of a dragon, hurtling through the sky with a man who had single-handedly destroyed everything I had ever known.

The dragon seemed to sense my thoughts, its massive form shifting beneath us as it sped up, as if responding to my uncertainty with reassurance. I felt the vibrations of its purrs, deep and resonant, as if it were content to have us riding on its back. There was a strange comfort in it, in knowing that this creature, so deadly and powerful, could also be gentle, even affectionate.

“What are you really after?” I finally asked. It was a question that had been gnawing at me, one I didn’t expect him to answer truthfully, but I needed to ask it all the same.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he guided the dragon in another sharp turn, sending us flying in a wide arc over the ocean. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost contemplative.

“Power, Princess,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But not just any power. I want the kind of power that reshapes the world.”

“And you think you’ll get that by using me?” I challenged, though there was a quiver of uncertainty in my tone.

His gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I could see past the smirk, past the mask of arrogance he wore so well.

“You underestimate yourself,” he said, almost a whisper against the wind. “You’ve already survived more than most could endure. There’s power in that, too.”

Before I could respond, the dragon banked again, this time heading back toward the ship. The spell of the moment shattered, and I was reminded once more of my place in all of this—of the danger, the uncertainty, and the looming threat that was the Dragon King.

As we descended, I felt that primal energy within me, the ice that had surged in my veins when I had saved Rhydian, stirring once more. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep pretending I was just a helpless prisoner. Sooner or later, I would have to fight back.

And when that time came, I would have to be ready.