Chapter 7
I closed the door softly behind me, my nerves still frayed. The hall lay empty, and my shoulders eased a fraction. At Livia’s chamber, I knocked.
The door opened a crack, her face appearing in the gap. “How can I help you, Valentina?”
“Call me Tina, if you like. Marcus told me to rest and dine with the other Bondwards, but I don’t know the way. Can you show me?”
“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m still getting used to my role.”
“Don’t worry. You and I can get used to this place together,” I said.
She offered me a tentative smile, then turned to lead the way. She guided me through the hall and Atrium, then through another door and down another corridor. The turns blurred together. Easier to keep people in when they can’t find their way out.
Sconces lined the corridors, their glow softer here than in the upper halls.
The air carried the faint scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and simmering herbs.
She stopped before two grand doors. “You’ll have to sit wherever there is space.
There are no assigned places, but… try to find allies if you can. ”
I nodded, filing the warning away. We opened the doors and I exhaled in surprise.
The Bondward dining room was vast—a long rectangular chamber with a vaulted ceiling supported by stone ribs, its walls carved with shallow reliefs of Bondwards.
Tall windows lined one side, shutters thrown open to let cool evening air drift in, stirring the flames of the wall-mounted braziers.
A single long table dominated the center, dark wood scarred with age and use. It was set with simple plates and cups. Chairs lined either side, most already occupied.
Conversation hummed through the chamber, laughter following.
Until I stepped inside. The clamor dissolved into silence.
Every Bondward in the room turned to look at me.
Warmth crept along the back of my neck. Livia gave me an encouraging nod before moving away to join the other servants along the wall. They stood with practiced stillness.
I was alone.
I raised my chin and walked at an unhurried pace, my gaze moving deliberately over everyone.
As I passed a woman near the center of the table, her eyes lifted to meet mine.
They were the lightest blue I’d ever seen—almost colorless.
Her skin was pale, nearly luminous in the brazier light.
Her hair, so fair it bordered on white, was braided tightly down her back, not a strand out of place.
A smile curved her lips, and I answered in kind. There was a space open beside her and instinct pulled me toward it. She seemed friendly.
“Hello, is this seat taken?” I asked, pulling the chair out.
“Well, look at that, everyone,” she said, her voice smooth. “It seems the Ludaryn grows more interesting by the day.”
I frowned as a cold glow emanated from my piercing. Not the right place to sit, then.
“You must be Valentina Greenwillow,” she continued. “We’ve all heard… whispers about your arrival. Quite an honor to be brought here by the Praetor himself.” Her eyes traveled over me before settling on my face.
My fingers curled into my palm. “Yes. Unfortunate circumstances brought me here.”
Her smile shifted, but before she could speak, a low voice cut through the tension like a thrown dagger.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
The scrape of a chair against stone rang out behind me. A man near the far end of the table sprang to his feet, his expression openly aghast. “You are not standing there like some sort of offering while we all pretend this isn’t awkward.”
He was already moving toward me, his stride bordering on a swagger. He slung an arm over my shoulder, turning me away from the pale woman, and seized the nearest chair, hauling it over.
“Here, sit, before Lucina decides to make this into a ceremony.”
The pale woman—Lucina—looked at him, a cool warning settling over her face. He grinned back at her, entirely unconcerned.
“I’m Jorius,” he said brightly, setting the chair beside me. “Jorius Harvan. No ceremony. Sit—I promise I’m harmless. I don’t bite.” He winked. “Unless you want me to.”
A blush rose to my face. He looked no older than thirty, incredibly handsome—bronze-skinned, with wavy blond hair falling to his shoulders, one side braided back from his face.
A silver piercing glimmered at his brow.
I couldn’t find it in me to refuse and sat down.
He dropped into the chair beside me immediately after, close enough that our shoulders nearly brushed, entirely unconcerned with propriety.
The tension in my chest cracked and laughter slipped out before I could stop it. He beamed at me. “See? No woman can resist my charm. You are radiant when you smile.”
A few other female Bondwards across the table smiled at him from under their lashes.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Being the new one in here is dreadful. Everyone’s terrified of looking weak. Except for Lucina Sorn and the women in her little circle. Try to keep your distance.”
“Thank you for the warning,” I answered, wondering if his kindness was anything more than manipulation.
“She’s bonded to Sevrak Thane. It takes a certain kind of woman to partner with a man like that and stay sane,” he whispered.
From the corner of my eye, Lucina sat with two other women, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. I frowned, resolving to heed his warning. Voices rose again around the table, conversation resuming as if nothing had happened.
“There are no available Saber Warriors. So unless a Bondward mysteriously disappears…” Lucina’s gaze drifted pointedly around the table before settling back on me. “What exactly will you be doing in the Ludaryn?”
Fine. I would play her game.
Slowly, I turned my head. “I imagine I will do what any sensible Bondward does. Observe. Learn. And avoid people who mistake provocation for intelligence.”
The silence that followed was immediate. Lucina’s smirk faltered and her eyes narrowed. The women beside her shifted uncomfortably while the others studied their plates.
Again, it was Jorius who intervened, his laughter ringing through the room. He slapped his thigh, then my shoulder. “Goddess save me, if you two continue like that I will have to leave the room. You’re turning me on.”
Lucina’s mouth parted, color rising in her face. “You, Jorius, are a foul man. You should shut your mouth. You are speaking to nobility.” She lifted her hand. A golden piercing glimmered at her wrist. She tilted her head toward the women beside her, who followed her out, their dinners forgotten.
Jorius was still wiping moisture from his cheeks, laughter lingering in the crinkle around his eyes.
They were a strikingly pale gray, made piercing by the dark limbal rings that bound the edges of his irises.
“That was golden. No one has ever rendered Lucina speechless like that before, certainly not a newcomer. You, Valentina, are a feast for the senses. I may have to remain close to you for more entertainment,” he uttered.
I laughed, but sobered quickly. Lucina’s words earlier seemed too urgent to ignore.
“She’s golden-pierced? But how? Isn’t she a Bondward like us?”
He straightened. “Yes. It’s actually quite sad. Don’t mention this around her. We don’t speak of it. She comes from a line of wealthy politicians, hence the piercing. We don’t know what happened, but her family cast her out. Now she has no one. No one visits her during the monthly visitations.”
A feeling, aching almost to pity, settled in my gut before a shadow fell across the table. I shifted to look up.
The man was tall, his shoulder-length dark hair streaked heavily with silver.
His eyes were a tired brown that missed nothing.
He stood with his hands folded behind his back.
He gestured to a servant, who immediately set a cup of wine before me, followed by a plate with warm bread, roasted vegetables, and a slab of meat.
He inclined his head, then returned his attention to me.
“Cassius Morvek,” he said. “Vayren Thanor’s Bondward.”
“Valentina Greenwillow. A pleasure to meet you.”
“I hope the food is to your liking. Bondwards dine plainly. It keeps us honest.”
“I’m grateful, thank you.”
He remained standing, still as a statue. Beside me, Jorius lifted one brow and cleared his throat.
“Elion trained you,” Cassius said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes?”
“I knew him well. One does not forget a Bondward who outlives the Ludaryn and leaves it intact.” His eyes sharpened. “Nor one allowed to walk away.”
“I have been curious,” he went on. “Elion was… thorough. A man of tradition. He favored precision over speed of healing and had an uncanny patience with the sabers.”
Jorius glanced between us, curiosity evident.
“You,” Cassius continued, “were trained very young. Earlier than most. I wonder what that produced.”
There was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity, and I found no immediate reason to distrust him.
“I’ve made enough mistakes to stay humble. I know my limits. Elion’s training wasn’t gentle, but I’ve learned enough lessons to remain standing.”
Something like approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Mistakes are the only honest teachers. Integrity and honor matter in a Bondward.”
A young woman with ash-blonde hair approached and leaned close to whisper something in Cassius’s ear before turning to me shyly. I could tell she was older than me, though her timid composure made her seem younger.
“Hello, I’m Nexra. I arrived a month ago. Cassius has been kind enough to guide me,” she said.
I softened my expression. “Hello, I’m Valentina. Nice to meet you. You’re lucky to have a mentor—I know how valuable that can be.”
She brightened before turning toward Cassius, urgency hastening her movements. He frowned before nodding at me, more courtesy than bow. “I look forward to seeing your work, Valentina Greenwillow. Skill reveals itself quickly in the Ludaryn.”
He turned to follow Nexra, who had already hurried away.
Jorius exhaled beside me. “Well,” he murmured, reaching for his cup, “if Cassius is curious about you, you’re officially terrifying. Congratulations.”
I lifted my cup and clinked it against his, though I didn’t fully trust him. If anything, the Praetor had taught me how easily charm could hide sharp teeth. We ate mostly in silence while I observed the Bondwards around me, their conversation thinning as the evening wore on.
Jorius scraped his chair back and stood. “Right,” he said, clapping his hands softly. “You survived your first evening. That’s the first test.”
My brows creased as I rose. “There are tests?”
“Oh, constantly,” he said, already steering me toward the door as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Not in the traditional sense—but mostly social. Occasionally even lethal. Think of it like a group of sabers. Your place in the hierarchy has yet to be determined.”
“Sabers are solitary creatures,” I said dryly, resisting the urge to shake his hands off my shoulders.
He halted mid-step, considering my words for a moment before giving a careless shrug. “Details.”
We made our way through the corridors, Livia close behind as the noise of the dining hall faded into the distance.
Jorius strolled beside me, posture relaxed, his shoulder occasionally brushing mine as his hands moved in easy gestures.
“Always assume everyone’s watching. And if they stop, that’s worse. ”
“You’re joking,” I said. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re right. These are mostly the principles I live by.” He grinned. “Let me rephrase. Just make sure everyone respects you. Everything else is optional.”
“Alright. I think I’ll manage. Thank you for your wise words,” I teased. “And you? Where do you fit into all this?”
“Oh, unlike Cassius and Lucina, I’m uncomplicated. My life here is easy. Nothing to complain about. I’m bonded to Rhenik Varros,” he answered, holding the door to the Atrium open for Livia and me.
“I’ve seen him fight. Is he a good man?”
He shrugged. “Mostly. We’re alike. Impulsive. Loud. Emotionally questionable.”
“At least you’re self-aware.”
“And,” he added cheerfully, catching my shoulder yet again, “he’s very attractive.”
His expression remained entirely serious. I couldn’t contain my laughter. I’d never met anyone quite like him. Behind me, Livia smiled as well, though her eyes remained lowered.
“I’m serious,” he insisted. “He has unfair bone structure. Broad shoulders and a ridiculous smile.” He sighed theatrically. “The only downside is that he’s somewhat close to Vayren, and that man intimidates even the likes of me.”
My smile faded. “Yes, the champion. I’ve certainly heard of him.”
“It would be strange if you hadn’t. I don’t like the man.
It’s as if he has no personality at all.
So cold and empty. It’s whispered Lucina had some arrangement with him years ago.
But it didn’t last. She was devastated for months after.
” He tilted his head, thoughtful. “I wonder how she managed it.”
“He cast her aside?”
“Completely. The rumors about him aren’t exaggerated. The man barely reacts to anything—no warmth. No softness.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Makes me wonder what Lucina was thinking. I mean, the man’s a beast, right?”
He glanced at me with a crooked grin. “Can you imagine climbing into bed with someone like that? All that muscle, all that reputation, and nothing human looking back. Must’ve been… unsettling. Or addictive. Probably both.”
I choked on a laugh, heat rising to my face. “Jorius.”
“What? I have eyes.”
I shot him a look. “You are impossible.”
“I’m just being honest.”
We stopped outside my chamber.
He looked at me, softer now, the humor fading. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice having someone sane around.”
“Sane?” I echoed.
“Well,” he amended, “sane-adjacent.”
Some of the tension I’d carried since arriving eased. He seemed genuine. Still, one pleasant conversation wasn’t enough to earn my trust. I considered him a potential ally, though I wouldn’t lower my guard just yet.
“Good night, Valentina. Try not to dream of me.”
“That won’t be a problem,” I grinned.
“I’ll certainly dream of you.” His face remained perfectly straight for a moment before he broke into a smirk and strolled off, humming as if nothing in this place could touch him.