Chapter 12 #2
I loosened my fists before crossing the sand.
I would have chosen any other warrior over him.
Perhaps even Sevrak. Lunara, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor where my fortune was concerned.
I could only hope that in time he would choose another to perform the ceremony with and I might be permitted to bond to someone else as well.
For now, I would keep my distance as much as possible.
Jorius and I took our places on the opposite side of the warriors, where the other Bondwards stood in an orderly line, hands clasped before them. Beside me, Talia and Tavin stood solemnly, their heads bowed to the sand, expressions closed.
Several of the warriors were watching me openly. Their attention remained fixed on me, unhidden, and I straightened my spine beneath it. Let them look. Even if I was forced to wear these kinds of dresses, I wouldn’t be measured by beauty. In time, it would be skill that defined me.
Jorius leaned closer, his voice low. “You look radiant. If you wished, you could select nearly any of the warriors for a bit of fun. Bondwards as well, if you’d like.”
There was something in the way he said it, something more vulnerable beneath the jest, and I didn’t quite know how to answer it.
His teasing drew a flicker of fondness—no more than that.
My piercing remained stubbornly still. I shot him a warning glance.
“We should be quiet. I’d rather not stand out at a time like this. ”
“Impossible,” he murmured. “I merely suggested. Being a Bondward doesn’t mean you have to set aside all…
other interests. We aren’t allowed to marry, but it would be a shame to deny ourselves entirely.
” His gaze rested on me for a moment, intent, before easing again.
“Everyone does it in here. You can choose anyone—except your assigned warrior.”
His eyes flicked toward Thanor before returning to me, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Though I don’t think that will be an issue. The hostility between you is rather unmistakable.”
I hushed him again as Marcus entered the courtyard.
He moved with calm authority, a cluster of servants following close behind, each carrying a vase of oil.
The scent reached us before they did—clean, faintly bitter—drifting across the sand as they approached the pyre and came to a stop beside the champion.
Wrapped in pale linen according to tradition, Cassius’s body lay upon the wood, his hands folded neatly over his chest. He looked small. A lump formed in my throat as grief washed over me.
Marcus’s expression softened before he faced us.
“Cassius was a Bondward of uncommon merit.” His voice carried through the hushed night.
“He was respected by sabers and peers alike. He was steadfast and loyal to this house until his final breath.” He paused, seemingly to compose himself.
“Such service does not end with death alone. He will be remembered, his skills honored as he is carved into marble to stand inside the Grand Hall.” He gestured toward the servants, who moved at once.
I frowned. Nexra hadn’t been afforded a statue.
Not even a funeral. A chill slid through me—how easily she’d been erased.
I pictured my own body slumped against the wall, blood seeping across the stone, my name already forgotten.
Would I be next? Forgotten just as quickly, as if I’d never been here at all?
The servants poured the oil with care upon the wood.
Marcus continued, “In recognition of his passing, and to cleanse the Ludaryn of any evil spirits that might linger, a ritual cleansing will be performed tomorrow. To ease his passage into the afterlife and to ensure balance is restored within our halls.” His gaze swept the assembly.
“All Bondwards and warriors will participate. Your attendance is mandatory.”
A murmur stirred through the Bondwards. I knew nothing about this—another thing Elion had chosen not to tell me. I made a mental note to ask Jorius or Livia before going to sleep.
The servants finished their preparations and Marcus faced the pyre. As he lifted his hand, he gave the command. “Begin.”
Thanor took the torch offered by one of the servants.
He brought the flame to the wood, and it caught at once, climbing the oil-soaked logs in hungry tongues.
His face revealed nothing, his posture restrained.
He had spent more than a month with Cassius as his Bondward—how could he be so composed? Or was it something else entirely?
But as he turned to stand among the others, I caught a slight tightening of his jaw. So brief I might have missed it, if I hadn’t been watching.
“May your passage be unburdened, Cassius. May your service be remembered.” Marcus spoke solemnly before lifting his head to the sky, offering a silent prayer to Lunara.
As one, the courtyard responded. Hands rose, palms pressed to hearts in silent honor of a fallen Bondward. Shared reverence settled over me like a veil as the firelight moved across the solemn faces of the gathered crowd. I followed their lead.
Cassius’s face rose in my thoughts—the brief kindness he’d shown me. I pressed my hand to my heart and bowed my head with the rest, holding it there as the flames climbed higher along the pyre.
Time passed slowly. When the fire had fully taken him, Marcus lifted his hand.
“Warriors,” he called, his voice carrying over the crackle of the flames. “You are dismissed. Bathe and prepare yourselves for tomorrow. Wash the filth of today’s training from your bodies and your minds.”
The sound of shifting armored boots broke the silence. One by one, they turned from the fire, cloaks stirring in their wake as they made their way back toward the Ludaryn. Despite myself, my gaze drifted to one retreating, heavily muscled back, and I swallowed.
Marcus waited until they were gone before facing us. “You will prepare for the cleansing as well. Rest, and ready yourselves.”
He remained beside the pyre for a moment, then he inclined his head, the gesture weary, and left the courtyard. Murmurs rose in his wake. Then Lucina’s voice carried.
“Well,” she said to Mira and Iris, her mouth curving. “I suppose it was only a matter of time. Cassius had been… declining. The Ludaryn is no place for the senile.”
Iris and Mira exchanged a look. Jorius didn’t raise his voice as he moved toward them. “Fascinating. I hadn’t realized longevity was now considered a moral failing. Though I suppose if one’s only contribution is being young and loud, the concept of endurance might feel threatening.”
The air stilled. Lucina’s smile faltered. “You will regret that.”
“Oh, almost certainly,” he replied lightly. “But not tonight.”
She scoffed. Turning on her heel, she passed us, deliberately knocking her shoulder into mine hard enough to make me falter. Her cloak snapped behind her as she stalked from the courtyard, Iris and Mira hurrying after her.
I gripped my shoulder, the sting still sharp beneath the fabric, but she wouldn’t get a reaction from me. Jorius watched them go, unimpressed.
A laugh slipped from me before I could stop it. I leaned closer to him. “Truly inspired words. But if I were you, I’d take care tonight. You never know. Your more cherished parts might mysteriously part ways with your body in your sleep.”
He blinked, then placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “A tragedy of historic proportions,” he said solemnly. “Such a loss would be deeply felt by the people of Caelora.”
I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, shaking my head as the tension between us eased, his earlier suggestion fading into the background. He laughed under his breath, clearly pleased with himself.
Near the doorway, Livia waited. Relief flickered across her face when she spotted us, and she fell into step beside us as we made our way through the lower halls.
Near the entrance to our wing, Thanor stood outside his chamber, the door open behind him.
Firelight caught along the edges of his armored chest.
Lucina stood too close to him, her fingers resting at his elbow, her posture unmistakably suggestive. She leaned in, pressing her breasts against him as she rose onto her toes to whisper in his ear.
I slowed, caught by the scene. Then his eyes snapped to me, to my dress. The moment stretched, unhurried, the line of my bodice leaving little to the imagination. His gaze darkened, and my lips parted. So he wasn’t indifferent to me after all.
My pulse climbed—whether from anger or something far less welcome, I couldn’t tell.
He didn’t look away as he leaned down and murmured something in Lucina’s ear. Whatever it was wiped the seductive smirk from her face. Her features twisted with anger, color rising in her cheeks before she spun away and stalked down the corridor.
The corner of Thanor’s mouth lifted at my clenched hands. I lifted my chin. Before I could launch into a stream of insults, Jorius interrupted with a low whistle.
“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “Lucina appears to be having a most unpleasant evening.”
Thanor turned to him, the moment breaking. Without a word, he strode into his chamber and shut the door behind him with finality.
“I suggest we all think twice before eating our breakfast tomorrow,” Jorius added, facing me. “Which reminds me—stop eating yours alone in your chamber like a rabbit holed up in its burrow. Take your place in the Ludaryn. Hiding yourself away does you no favors.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Well. Since you asked so nicely.”
Looping my arm through Livia’s, I strode past him.
“We’ll join him, won’t we, Livia?”
“Sure, though I won’t be testing any of his food. If he gets poisoned, it’s his own fault.”
“You women—stop banding together!” He frowned as he caught up with us.