Chapter 18 The Bloodbound Court
THE BLOODBOUND COURT
I barely slept.
The food was too rich for a stomach used to hunger, and when I finally drifted off, my dreams were filled with snarling beasts. One sank its teeth into my throat just as the door creaked open.
“Good morning, Mistress Aelie.” A blonde fae with sleek hair swept inside, carrying a tray.
I wiped my eyes. “Um, morning.”
“I’m Thessia, your attendant.” She set the tray down, dimples popping in her cheeks. “The king appointed me personally. Quite an honor, I usually serve the archivist.”
I sat upright, my mind sharpening. Attendants knew things—routines, layouts, gossip.
“Where’s the king?” I asked.
Thessia’s smile flickered. “Training, I believe.”
I licked my dry lips. “Does he train every morning?”
Thessia nodded. “Since he’s returned. Dawn until midday.”
Good, a window for me to escape.
Thessia lifted the lid from a steaming bowl with a flourish. “Mountain oats with cream, poached pears from the orchard, and bacon.”
My mouth watered at the cinnamon scent, and the ache in my chest sharpened. Rheya loved cinnamon. She once stole an entire bag from Taryn’s pantry and hoarded it like treasure, sprinkling it on stale bread, weak tea, anything edible—insisting that it made everything sweeter.
“The cook works very hard. Such elaborate meals.”
“Yes, though we’re learning the king’s preferences.” Thessia brightened. “Everything’s been chaos since he returned. His sister, Lady Elwen—she was regent while he was gone—she’s been helping restore order.”
Interesting. “He must have changed after all these years.”
“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t even alive when he was taken, but the servants say he’s—” Thessia caught herself, blanching. “I shouldn’t gossip about the family.”
I smiled at her. “You’re right to be careful. In Skalgard, loose tongues meant missing heads. I’m sure your king is similar.”
She flushed, gesturing at the tray. “Please, mistress, won’t you eat? Solenne will have my hide if it comes back untouched.”
Irritation heated my chest like a rash. I peeled off the sheets and stalked to the table, grabbing the bread just to shut her up.
Still warm.
I paused, staring at it. Golden crust, perfectly crisp. I tore it open, steam rising from the pillowy dough. I bit down. Fluffy and rich. Gods. One bite turned into two. Then three. I reached for the bacon.
Salt and smoke crashed over my tongue. A hint of maple sweetness underneath. Rheya would have devoured this. Would have closed her eyes and moaned.
My throat tightened.
I sat and kept eating. The sugared pears went down like silk—nothing like the bruised fruit we’d scrounged from market bins. The purple tea tasted of berries sweetened with honey.
Thessia beamed as I scraped the bowl clean. “Shall I bring more? The cook made extra portions.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t. You’ve already been so kind.”
“But you’re hungry, mistress. There’s more bacon, and fresh bread, and—”
“Really, I’m fine. Thank you.”
She bobbed her head, gathering the empty dishes. “Of course, mistress. Perhaps for lunch, then? Lady Elwen mentioned something about duck with cherry sauce.”
Cherry sauce.
I looked down. “I…I’d like to be alone now. If that’s alright.”
“Yes, mistress.” She curtsied, balancing the tray, but stopped at the door. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” She fumbled in her pocket, producing a folded piece of parchment sealed with dark red wax. “This came for you.”
My blood chilled. “From who?”
“The king.”
When the door closed, I moved to it, pressing my ear against the wood. Footsteps—hers, retreating. Then the low murmur of male voices. At least two guards.
I retreated to the table and cracked the wax, unrolling the message. A rune sat in the center. Inked in crimson. I touched it, and the ink bled into words.
Aelie,
I trust you’re settling in to life in my court. I had your chambers arranged with every comfort you might crave. Indulge yourself. The guards outside will see to anything you need—within reason.
You are not a prisoner but make no mistake: if you attempt to leave my lands again, the forest will devour you. I would regret your death.
Today, you remain indoors. This is not a request.
Yours,
Kairos
The last word seared brightly, then faded like cooling embers.
I re-read it, studying each line for information. Guards outside—so he’d admitted to them. Within reason—boundaries, but vague ones.
When Vaeris arrived, I needed to know the weak areas in Kairos’s court. I wasn’t going to sit here like a decorative prisoner. I’d learn the secrets of this castle.
I got up and crossed to the wardrobe. Robes, silks, countless gowns embroidered so finely, my heart ached to look at them. I brushed my fingers over a sleeveless midnight-blue gown, the bodice stitched with silver thread in curling patterns. The stitching reminded me of river currents.
The fashion here wasn’t like the tight corsets of Skaldir. I picked out another dress—deep green, with open sides and a high collar that closed at the throat with a simple bone clasp. No laces, just clever draping that made the fabric flutter. This court dressed like beings of the forest.
Kairos was trying to seduce me with soft things.
Maybe turn me into something like…what I’d been for Vaeris.
He’d done the same thing—pretty dresses, warm rooms, helping me break runes.
He’d made me feel special. For a while, I’d let myself believe the gifts meant he’d choose me. Now Kairos was laying the same trap.
I dressed myself and bound my braid into a knot.
My clothing wasn’t ideal for scaling walls, but I’d make it work.
I’d been watching the guards from my window.
They changed shifts every two hours, leaving a three-minute gap when the courtyard was empty—and one of those gaps was happening now.
I approached the window and leaned out, measuring the distance to the outer wall.
It wasn’t far. Below me was a sheer drop of jagged stones. The rock was weathered, but climbable. Kicking off the slippers, I pulled myself out. I inched sideways, searching for a hold.
Step by step, I climbed.
My muscles ached. I scraped my palms. My dress caught on stones. Several times, I had to stop and yank it free. I nearly slipped but kept going until I dragged myself onto a narrow ledge, my back shoved to the wall. Eventually, I hauled myself over the rampart.
I sat there, catching my breath. The mist was thicker, clinging to the spires. I rose slowly.
The parapet stretched in both directions, dotted with watchtowers. Carved runes glowed on the wall. I palmed one, scraping the threads. Ancient. Very rough.
I closed my eyes. The magic was a mesh, lacing through each stone. They made a lattice with other runes. For structure? No, protection.
I lifted my hand and crept forward.
A tower loomed ahead, its base fused into the cliffside. A heavy wooden door barred the way, guarded with a locking rune.
I crouched and pressed two fingers into the rune. Magic coiled like a spring. The threads hissed. I teased the outer strands loose, its texture like burning steel. Then I twisted. It snapped with a loud spark.
I wrung my hand. The rune fizzled, and the lock gave with a click. I opened the door and slipped inside. As I descended the stairs, a faint sound drifted from below.
A hiccupping wail.
I froze.
It came again—thin, high-pitched, and raw. Was that a baby? I moved faster. Down through the dark that thickened with each turn. The cries became louder. More desperate.
I hit the bottom of the stairs, facing a door.
I pushed it open and stepped into the chamber.
It was huge, the walls slick with moisture.
Chains hung from the ceiling. The air tasted like rust and old blood—how many people had died down here?
A small row of cells lined the wall. Inside one was a baby deer.
I stopped.
A deer. In a dungeon cell.
The tiny creature was lying down, shivering so hard its spotted sides quivered. Its head was too big for its body, its lashes wet. When it tried to rise, its legs gave out, and it toppled with a plaintive bleat.
My throat ached despite the warning bells ringing in my mind. Why would Kairos keep a fawn in a dungeon? He had gardens, forests at his doorstep. This didn’t make sense. Courts didn’t cage animals in their deepest chambers unless—
Unless it wasn’t what it appeared to be.
I crouched slowly, studying it. The trembling was too perfect. The bleating too pitiful. This had to be a trap, but gods, I’d had enough death.
My hand hovered at the bars.
The warmth of its fur shocked me. It felt real. I pressed my forehead to the iron, breathing in the sweet musk of straw, and some broken part of me wanted to believe it. I needed a reason to soften after being flayed open for days.
The fawn leaned into my touch. Shivering, needy, trusting.
Wild animals didn’t do this. They fled from humans, especially in confined spaces. They didn’t seek comfort from strangers.
This was wrong.
I pulled back, my heart racing. The fawn’s gaze tracked me—too aware. Not the glassy panic of a trapped animal, but a calculating stare.
What are you?
A cold breeze brushed my neck.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
I jolted and whirled around.
Kairos lounged in the doorway, his expression carved in stone. He wore fitted black trousers and a leather tunic that left his sculpted arms bare. His mantle, clasped over one shoulder, cast a feathery shadow on the wall.
“Step away. Now.”
I didn’t move. “What is it?”
“Not what it appears to be.”
He flicked two fingers toward the cell. Wind surged from him, slamming into the bars. The fawn let out a strangled cry, then convulsed.