Chapter 9 Mine
Chapter nine
Mine
Sorren
Rion moves not with haste but with cold determination.
The arc of his blade is deliberate, a low sweep meant to measure my guard.
I pivot rather than meeting him head-on, letting the force glance away as Thornreaper hums in my grip, alive and eager.
I bring it up just in time for the next strike.
Blade screams against blade, dark metal grinding against living bronze.
Uncle does not retreat. He presses forward.
Three strikes in rapid succession, high, mid, low, each one designed to fracture rhythm and force error. I catch the first on the flat of my blade and turn the second with a sharp twist of my wrist. The third slips through, biting into my sleeve and grazing flesh.
A flash of fear down the bond from Nora, but I can’t afford distraction right now. Not when Rion has the amulet in his pocket and a sword in his hands.
Heat blooms along my arm from where he struck me, and blood spills freely, streaking down my arm to drip from my fingers.
Good.
Pain sharpens. He taught me that.
We circle again, boots grinding flowers into pulp. The air fills with sweetness and the copper tang of blood, perfume curdling toward rot. His gaze never wavers.
He lunges.
I give ground deliberately, letting him believe the retreat is instinct rather than intention.
He grins.
I pivot left instead of right, the variation he always despised, the one he called inefficient when he trained me, and Thornreaper arcs upward as I spin back into him. Sparks explode between us as our blades collide, the force rattling through my bones.
A lesser sword would have shattered from that impact.
But Thornreaper holds.
The living veins threaded through its bronze edge flare faintly beneath my grip, lichen and metal fused into something older than either. It absorbs the violence as if it enjoys it.
For the first time, Rion’s expression flickers.
He feels the difference. Understands this is no normal sword. He feints toward my shoulder, drawing my guard high, then twists mid-motion and redirects toward my throat with terrifying speed.
I drop lower than he anticipates, lower than balance should allow, and instead of meeting his force, I let it pass.
With nothing to resist him, his forward momentum carries him too far. His boots tear up sod as he stumbles through the space I have vacated, blade slicing only air. He recovers quickly, as he always does, planting hard and rising into another strike without hesitation.
This time I meet him.
Our blades lock between us, metal shrieking as it grinds. We’re close enough that I can see the pulse in his temple, the calculation in his eyes.
Behind me, the bond burns bright.
Nora.
Her presence steadies my hand more than steel ever could.
“You hesitate,” he murmurs, breath hot against my cheek.
He is wrong.
I do not hesitate.
I mourn.
For an instant I see him as he was, standing behind me in the training yard, correcting my stance, guiding my grip with steady hands. I remember the pride in his eyes when I first disarmed a guard twice my size.
“I shall miss you, Uncle,” I tell him. “The man you once were.”
He sees the grief in my expression, and it enrages him.
“You’re weak,” he snarls, shoving forward with all his weight. “Just like your father.”
That shove is his mistake.
I yield, not in surrender but in invitation, and let his force carry him through me without resistance. His balance shifts forward just enough.
I pivot.
Thornreaper drives through his ribs and into his chest.
Rion releases a startled roar. He pulls away, and Thornreaper comes free with a wet, sucking sound. Blood, crimson and shining, gushes from his side. Most likely a fatal wound, if given enough time.
But time is something neither of us has.
Instead of coming for me again, he turns.
Toward Nora.
She stands just outside the circle of our combat, eyes wide, hands clamped over her mouth as though physically restraining herself from crying out.
I see the decision in his eyes.
“No!” I shout, but I’m not fast enough.
He sprints to her, one hand pressed to his wound. Nora shrieks as he seizes her around the waist and yanks her back against his chest.
The blood-forged blade presses to her throat.
It bites, and a thin line of red appears.
“Nora!” My voice tears from my lungs.
With his free hand, Rion reaches into his pocket and pulls out the amulet.
His eyes find mine.
“You should have been my son,” he rasps.
He drops the chain over Nora’s head. Even as she fights him, thrashing, twisting, the emerald falls against her chest, but my mate does not yield easily.
She rears back. Slams her elbow into his wounded side.
Rion howls and flings her away. She tumbles into the grass.
A low sound ripples through the clearing.
Veskar.
The great serpent rises from the flowers, taller now, gold eyes burning as they settle on Rion. “All who enter my garden answer to me.”
Rion laughs weakly. “Stay out of this, relic.”
Veskar’s tongue flicks once.
“You entered my domain,” the serpent replies. “You accepted my judgment.” His gaze stays fixed on Rion. “You are found wanting. Unworthy.”
The grass beneath Rion’s boots withers instantly, turning brittle.
I barely notice. I’m too busy staring at the line of blood that marks Nora’s neck like a leash.
At the Amulet of Springtide that lies on her chest. Physical proof I have lost everything that matters.
Something in me snaps. Splits open. All the restraint my father tried to teach me, all the mercy, the softness, burns away in an instant.
Rion touched Nora. He hurt her.
My bonded. My claimed. My love.
He made her bleed.
There is no world in which he survives that.
I will not simply kill him. I will tear him apart. Limb from limb.
If the cost is my soul, so be it.
If the cost is my kingdom, let it burn.
No creature breathes after touching what is mine.
A sound tears from my throat that does not belong to a civilized creature.
I charge at him. Rion brings his blade up to meet me, astonishingly fast despite the blood soaking his side, but his footing on the dry grass is unstable.
Our swords clash once, twice, then I flick my wrist and redirect the force.
His weapon flies from his grasp, spinning end over end before striking the vine-covered wall and falling to the ground.
He is unarmed.
He takes a step back, glancing behind him like he’s preparing to flee.
For the first time, my uncle looks afraid.
I do not hesitate.
The same instinct that felled the beast in this arena guides my hand now. Thornreaper slides beneath my uncle’s jaw and drives upward. There is resistance, flesh, bone, then a sickening release as the sword bursts from the crown of his skull.
Rion’s eyes widen.
Not in fear.
In disbelief.
For a suspended moment, we remain joined by the blade that binds us, his lifeblood pouring over my hand, hot and relentless, painting the flowers at our feet until every petal turns red.
His mouth opens as if to speak.
Blood fills it instead.
I withdraw the sword in one smooth motion.
Rion crumples to the earth and lies still. Dead.
A hush floods the clearing, like even the birds have forgotten how to sing.
I rush to Nora’s side.
Veskar is already there. The snake hovers over her, his head close to hers as if even he’s concerned by what has been undone.
“Nora.”
She stares up at me.
Her expression is dull. Unknowing.
The emerald rests heavy against her chest. The silver threads inside it lie straight and separated.
Unknotted.
Each one of them.
Our bond—severed.
Gone.
But I do not need the necklace to tell me that.
I feel it in the hollow cavern of my heart. In the unbearable quiet of my mind. There is no warmth glowing between us. No thread pulling me toward her. No pulse of fear or trust or love.
Nothing.
I sink to my knees before her anyway. I crawl the last inch to her like a wounded animal and bury my face in her lap. The sound that comes out of me is broken. It tears from somewhere deep. A place where hope has gone to die.
I cannot stop it. The tears that pour from my eyes.
I watched my father fall.
I’ve been exiled. Hunted. Attacked.
None of it comes close to this.
She is here.
Yet gone.
My mind reaches for her and finds only silence. A vast, unyielding emptiness.
Her fingers slide into my hair. They move gently, instinctively. She strokes the length of the strands.
It means nothing.
Only that she’s kind enough to comfort a stranger who is falling apart before her.
My hands fist in the fabric of her clothes as though I can anchor her back to me through sheer force.
“I’m sorry,” I choke. I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.
For failing. For not stopping Rion. For loving her at all.
Her fingers pause in my hair. She gently grips a handful of it and tugs. Hard enough that my head jerks up.
My vision blurs with tears as I look at her.
Nora stares down at me, her brows drawn together in concern. The corners of her mouth turn down. “Why are you upset?”
“Because I’ve lost you.”
She glances around the clearing, confused. “But I’m right here.”
I drag in a shaky breath, trying to force the tears to stop. I have no idea how to explain this to her. The bond. The way she’s woven into me. The way losing it feels like someone ripped my heart out and left a hollow space behind. A void no one else can fill.
“I know this is going to sound strange,” I say hoarsely. “But you know me, and we…we shared a bond.”
She tilts her head slightly.
“Yeah…”
“And now it’s gone,” I finish.
Nora stills.
Her gaze drifts inward, distant, as if she’s searching inside herself. A shadow of sorrow passes across her face.
“You’re right, Sorren,” she says. “I don’t feel it anymore.”
The words land like a blade between my ribs. But then…
“Wait. You said my name.” I search her face desperately. “You know who I am?”
She laughs softly. “Of course I know who you are.”
My breath catches.
“You’re my mate,” she says gently. “My love.”
I sit up, confusion crashing through me. My mind scrambles for explanations. For logic. For anything that makes sense.
It can’t be.
I saw Rion drop the amulet over her head. I watched the emerald strike her chest. It rests there still, gleaming against her skin. The instrument of my despair. Evidence of what was taken. Yet she looks at me like she always has.
Like I am not a stranger.
Like I’m hers.
My gaze flicks between her face and the necklace, as if one of them must be lying.
“But how?” I ask. “We aren’t bonded anymore. The amulet erased us. It broke our connection.”
“It did,” Nora says softly. “It broke the magic.” Her hand lifts and caresses my cheek. “Not my love for you.”
The tenderness in her eyes nearly convinces me. A stranger could never look at me with that much warmth.
“That wasn’t created by a bond or fate,” she continues softly. “Even if you thought it was. I love you because you’re you.”
Her thumb brushes across my cheek, wiping away the tears I fail to hide.
“You forget, Sorren. In my world, love exists without magic guiding it.” She smiles softly. “Humans choose who they love.” Her gaze holds mine. “And I choose you.”
“And I you,” I answer back as my heart swells.
Silence settles over the clearing.
The snake hisses thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
I turn, startled.
The great cobra lifts its head higher, golden eyes fixed on Nora. “The bond broke,” Veskar murmurs. “Yet love remains.”
His tongue flicks through the air as though tasting something new. “For thousands of years, the Egg has tested power. Loyalty. Fear.” His gaze locks on Nora. “But never this.”
“What?” I ask hoarsely.
The snake studies Nora for a second longer before answering.
“Choice.”
A slow smile spreads across Nora’s face, and something shifts. For the first time since the amulet shattered our bond, warmth stirs deep inside me. Faint. Fragile. Like the first spark of a fire struggling back to life.
Emotion brushes against my mind.
Nora.
I sit upright with a gasp, my hand flying to my chest.
“Nora…do you feel that?” I whisper, afraid to breathe too loudly, afraid the miracle might vanish.
She smiles, her eyes shining.
Her hand settles over mine.
The great cobra watches us with its body still, its golden eyes reflecting the flowers and blood and broken earth of the clearing.
“Did you do this?” Nora asks Veskar. “Did you restore our bond?”
“It is my job to judge. To decide worth.” The snake’s tongue flicks through the air. “I deem you worthy to hold Thornreaper. To wear the Amulet of Springtide. Beyond the weapons and treasures I hoard I do not interfere. So no, this is not me.”
Warmth spreads through me again, stronger now. The bond between us tightening, weaving itself whole.
Nora’s brows lift. “But I feel Sorren. I can feel my love for him.”
Veskar lowers his head slightly, as if acknowledging something ancient and rare. He murmurs, “Love needs no bonds or the blessing of gods. It is its own magic.”
Nora exhales softly and leans into me, her forehead resting against my chest as if that is the most natural place in the world for her to be.
My arms close around her instantly. Fiercely.
I pull her tight enough that I can feel the steady rhythm of her heart beneath the emerald resting against her collarbone.
I press my lips into her hair and close my eyes.
I’m so engrossed in Nora that I barely register the snake’s soft hiss. “Balance restored,” Veskar intones. Behind us the flowers stir in a soft wind that did not exist a moment ago. Without another word, the cobra slips back into the tall grass, silent as a shadow returning to the earth.
Nora’s hand finds mine.
When our fingers intertwine, the bond surges bright and alive between us.
Unbreakable.