A Claim So Defiant (Bondward #1)

Chapter 1

“They say sabers don’t hunt like other beasts,” the merchant murmured as the children leaned closer at his feet.

“Other creatures chase. They make noise. They give you a chance to run. Sabers don’t.”

“They prowl the streets at night,” he went on, voice dropping, “quiet as a breath. You won’t hear them coming. Not their steps. Not their claws. Not even the air around them.” He let the silence stretch long enough to settle into their bones.

“They listen—for wandering feet. For doors left open. For children who forget to obey.”

A whimper slipped from one of the boys.

“They don’t rush,” the merchant continued. “They follow you first. By the time you hear them… it’s already too late.”

His fingers curled, mimicking jaws closing.

“If you’re lucky, they take you in one bite. If not…” He tilted his head. “Sabers are patient creatures. They like to hear you cry first.”

The children shrank back, wide-eyed and silent.

At the edge of the crowd, I lingered, watching those unguarded faces, still untouched by the kind of fear that doesn’t fade. A faint smile tugged at my lips.

I hoped they would never learn how little the stories softened the truth.

“Valentina!”

The call cut through the noise, pulling me free of my thoughts. I slipped past the children, catching a glimpse of the merchant pressing roasted chestnuts into their hands. The warm, sweet scent curled through the air. My favorite.

I reached my uncle and slipped my arm through his.

We fell into step as the sun dipped behind the rooftops, the night market still thrumming with life.

Candles flared beneath the stone arches, their glow spilling over stalls crowded with spices, dyed fabrics, and polished steel, while merchants called their final offers, their voices rising into a restless chorus.

Our sandals tapped softly over the cobblestones, the sound lost beneath the noise. An elderly woman stepped into our path, her hand already reaching for my uncle.

“Bondward Elion! What an honor. When will you return to service?”

He took her hand with easy familiarity. “Dear lady, I am fully retired. This is my niece, Valentina. When she turns twenty-five, you can expect great things from her.”

I lowered my gaze, heat rising to my cheeks. “My uncle speaks too highly of me, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you. I do enjoy the spectacle of the Maw, my dear. It was kind of you to indulge me.” She half-bowed before continuing on her way.

Elion patted my hand where it rested on his arm. “Wait here, Tina. I need lunathorn caps for the coming full moon.”

I nodded as he turned toward a stall where glowing lunathorn caps were piled in woven baskets. Affection stirred within me as he immediately began to haggle. The trader glanced at me helplessly. I only shrugged. No one ever bested him once he set his mind to a price.

As their voices rose, I drifted toward the massive fountain at the center of the square, an ornate monument carved in stone. Imperator Varos Drakorian stood immortalized at its center, watching over the city.

In the torchlight, Caelora—the heart of Valystria—seemed calm. Light played across the water and polished stone, and people moved through the square with easy certainty.

The statue loomed above it all, fixed and unyielding, the high stone walls curving out behind it as if the city itself bent around it.

The walls were meant to keep us safe from the lands beyond the sea. Everyone said so. It should have been reassuring. Instead, something in me resisted it. The longer I stood there, the more it all seemed deliberate, like something held in place rather than at rest.

Too close. Too high. It felt contained.

The thought echoed in my mind as a soft glow flickered near my hand.

Fireflies drifted through the candlelight at the fountain’s edge, their small bodies catching the light as they floated lazily through the air.

One hovered closer. I lifted my fingers, and it settled into my palm.

As I cupped it, its glow flickered… then dimmed.

I opened my hand, and it lifted into the night, light returning as it climbed until it faded into the dark.

My hand lingered a moment too long. Not for the first time, I wondered if I might shine brighter too—if only I were free.

“Help! Nooo—please! Leave me alone! Mama—!”

The scream tore through the square. The crowd surged, bodies colliding as people craned to see. Merchants abandoned their stalls, their wares forgotten.

Pushing forward, I ducked beneath flailing arms and squeezed past bodies until I rose onto my toes, peering between the heads ahead.

Legionnaires stood on the raised platform, golden armor catching the firelight, wine-dark cloaks stirring in the evening breeze. Their spears were lifted, pointed at a boy no older than five as they hoisted him onto the platform.

The crowd fell silent.

“Valentina, stay where you are.” My uncle’s voice broke the stillness.

He pushed through the crowd toward me, his expression hardening as he reached my side. “Don’t wander off without me. You know what the market is like after sunset. If your hair wasn’t so bright, I would never have found you.”

My red hair did stand out. I’d always liked that. His protectiveness, less so. “I was only gone for a moment. You were still arguing with the merchant over a handful of coins.”

“You know the merchants,” he muttered, though relief flickered in his eyes. “The Empire squeezes them dry. Their prices have been rising for weeks. I won’t fall for it.”

He glanced over my shoulder, his jaw working. “Let’s go home. I won’t have you watching the enlistment again if it leaves you angry for a week. I barely survived the last time.”

“Uncle, please.” A grin tugged at my lips. “My temper is never aimed at you. I only have kindness for the people I love—you know that.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You underestimate me. If I could lock you safely inside forever, I would.”

“That would be dreadfully boring. And cruel.”

“You’ve never been one to avoid trouble.” His smile faded as he glanced back at the platform. “It’s a wonder I still look this young after raising you.”

“If you say so,” I said. He glared at me.

I was only teasing. His red hair was tied back in a low ponytail, only faintly streaked with gray, and his beard was short and rough.

His posture remained straight, his presence quiet but commanding.

You wouldn’t think him past forty. But I wasn’t about to stroke his ego that much.

And he wasn’t wrong about me either. I’d always been drawn to the center of things.

A life without sensation, without fire, felt unbearable.

“Oof—”

A woman slammed into my shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance as she forced her way through the crowd and onto the platform. Elion’s hand shot out, steadying me.

Few people ever ran toward the legionnaires.

“No, no, nooo!” she screamed, throwing herself in front of the boy. “Not my boy!” Her voice broke as she sobbed, “Please! He’s only four! Don’t you have a heart?”

A man climbed onto the podium and seized her arm—likely the boy’s father, his face twisted with rage and despair.

“You can’t make him a Saber Warrior,” he pleaded, his voice unsteady. “Look at him. The sabers will tear him apart. Isn’t there anything I can do? Please—here…”

His hands shook as he fumbled in a pouch, pulling out a handful of coins.

The legionnaires exchanged a glance. One smirked, slow and knowing.

“Oh, I’m sure there is,” he said, his gaze dragging over the woman. “Your wife’s a pretty thing. I’m sure we could come to some sort of arrangement.”

Soft laughter rippled through them as one gripped the woman’s face, turning it side to side as though inspecting merchandise. She tried to shove his hand away, her fingers trembling.

“Please,” she whispered. “The Empire has already taken everything from us. Not our boy… I’ll do anything.”

Something in her husband snapped. With a raw cry, he lunged, throwing himself at the legionnaire gripping his wife, desperate to tear her free and reach their son.

He never stood a chance.

A mailed fist cracked against his jaw, snapping his head back as he hit the ground. Boots followed, pinning him there before he could rise. They hauled him upright again. And then the blows came.

Dull. Methodical. Into his ribs. His stomach. Over and over.

I flinched, my hands rising to cover my mouth as I curled into Elion’s side, unable to look and unable not to.

He folded inward with each strike, gasping as the blows stole the air from his lungs, his body buckling beneath their force.

“Stop, please!” his wife screamed as she collapsed to her knees, clawing at their armor, sobbing.

Elion’s grip tightened around my arm. “Don’t look.”

I couldn’t move. My feet felt rooted to the stone, my breath coming too fast, too shallow, as though the blows were landing somewhere inside my own chest.

“Do something. Help them! We can’t just—” My voice broke as I twisted against his grip, trying to pull free, but he was already dragging me away.

He pulled me from the market as the family’s cries faded behind us, each step heavier than the last. The lunathorn caps were clenched in one hand; the other stayed firm around my shoulders, urging me forward.

The sound followed me—the dull impact of fists against flesh, the way the crowd had gone silent, watching.

That boy would likely die in the Maw before he ever grew his first beard. At the heart of the city, the vast colosseum turned boys like him into something less than human. The crowd called it entertainment. I knew better. Nothing that devoured lives so eagerly deserved a name so gentle.

An ache settled in me for him, ripped from his parents before he could understand what was being taken. It quickly turned into rage. Men who would never know his name had already decided his fate—the Aedile, the Praetor, the Imperator. And there was nothing I could do.