Chapter 16
The doors of the Ludaryn closed behind me as I stepped down into the morning light, escorted by a clutch of armed houseguards. Thanor stood ahead, arms crossed, flanked by his own contingent.
I stifled a yawn. Every muscle ached. I’d barely slept after Decimus’s visit.
My father’s dagger remained clutched against my chest until I abandoned the bed altogether, sitting by the window with my gaze fixed beyond the distant Saber Training Grounds to the endless green canopy of the Lornwild.
Every instinct urged me to run toward it, but all I could do was watch from behind stone walls.
My skin still crawled from the memory of Decimus’s touch, and guilt over my argument with Jorius weighed just as heavily.
I lifted my gaze to the sun as it crested the horizon, its light spilling across the streets of Caelora, washing stone and sand alike in hues of rose and gold.
The air was already warming, but the heat hadn’t yet settled into its usual weight.
For once, it felt almost forgiving. Lucky me—my pale skin was already burned raw.
We’d have to go to the market today. I drew in a slow breath, letting it steady me, and resolved not to let Thanor unsettle me. To prove I could, I didn’t pay attention to the glean of his skin, nor the muscles so clearly visible beneath the crossed leather straps.
I bathed this morning. As he’d commanded.
And I had made him wait for over an hour as the others had already left. The thought amused me. He would learn soon enough that ordering me about wouldn’t yield the results he expected.
Yet as I stepped down the last of the stairs, he didn’t seem bothered at all.
His expression was cold, carefully schooled.
He didn’t even look at me as he moved ahead without a word, his stride lengthening as he took the lead through the narrowing streets.
Without breaking pace, he issued a curt command.
I slowed, expecting resistance—if only a flicker of hesitation.
I scoffed as the guards escorting us responded at once.
Without question. For a moment, their retreating backs caught me off guard.
But Thanor didn’t give me a chance to dwell on it.
He didn’t look back as his stride lengthened—a pace meant for someone far taller than me.
I had to jog to keep up, my boots striking the stone in quick, uneven beats.
A frown tugged at my brow. The guards feared Thanor more than they feared Marcus’s discipline—more than reprimand, demotion, or worse. I broke into a run, cutting in front of him and forcing him to halt mid-stride. Slightly out of breath, I faced him with open irritation.
He didn’t look at me. He merely lifted his arm, clearly intending to move me aside.
No. I wouldn’t be ignored. He wouldn’t get under my skin. Not this time. My fingers closed around his forearm before he could follow through, and I shoved the folded list of ingredients into his hand.
“If you want Kharos to remain strong in the coming days, I need lunathorn caps,” I snapped, “you could at least help me instead of making even the smallest task difficult.”
I released him, already turning away. His response was immediate—his hand closed around my arm, firm enough to stop me without hurting.
“Let go,” I said, my teeth clenched as I tried to pull free.
He didn’t. Instead, he looked down at me as though I were a persistent irritation—beneath notice, yet impossible to ignore.
“You are… the most aggravating woman I have had the displeasure of dealing with in years.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual. So maybe you should ask Marcus for a replacement.” I smiled at him sweetly.
His fingers clenched around the list, the parchment crumpling in his grasp. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
He leaned in enough for his presence to fully eclipse mine, his grip firmer.
“You’re hurting—”
“There is a limit to what I’ll tolerate. Leave me waiting again, and next time I’ll haul you from your bath and drag you naked to my chamber.”
Heat coursed through my veins, but I stared up at him and smiled—soft, agreeable.
“Understood. I wouldn’t dream of displeasing you again.”
As I spoke, my fingers traced the arm still holding me, my touch lingering enough to distract. The fine hairs along his wrist lifted beneath my skin. Surprise flickered across his face and his grip loosened.
Then I smirked. Without waiting for permission, I darted from his grasp and continued down the street, deliberately taking the lead, my pace unhurried. A grin tugged at my mouth as I looked up at the morning sun. Childish or not—I didn’t care.
A low sound rumbled behind me, edged with something feral, carrying the sense that restraining himself required real effort. My grin vanished. It flared along my spine. I quickened my pace, instinct urging me to put distance between us.
As I walked through the Imperial Quarter, the polished stone beneath my boots gleaming faintly in the morning light, I tried not to notice the golden-pierced stopping as I passed.
I was clearly a Bondward—and unaccompanied.
My hands fidgeted on the strap of my satchel.
My steps slowed before I came to a stop near the Imperial Gate, hesitation creeping in where confidence had been only moments before.
The legionnaires looked up and strode toward me, voices low. The glint of their golden armor nearly blinded me.
“You’re one of Marcus’s stock. Why are you unescorted?”
Their spears lifted as one, and I raised my hands, forcing my voice to remain steady.
“I’m Valentina Greenwillow, the champion’s Bondward.”
“Last we heard, his Bondward was dead.”
The words carried across the morning breeze.
A small crowd began to gather, their curiosity forming into something unsettling as they watched.
“Not trying to escape are we?” one of the legionnaires pressed, inching closer, a coil of rope already in his hand.
“Doesn’t matter if you don’t answer right away.
We’ll enjoy finding out.” He smirked. “Or maybe we’ll drag you before the Praetor. ”
Another joined in as he towered over me. “Traitors are thrown in the Maw. Foolish girl.”
I swallowed, retreating slowly as the space around me seemed to close in. My mind raced. Letting them take me to Decimus might be the safest option. Considering the man, that said a lot. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I had nothing better.
Then, their postures turned rigid and the crowd’s murmuring stilled. They parted beside me.
“Not so confident now are we, little Bondward?”
My eyes closed. Thanor’s voice—low, unmistakable. I didn’t turn. What would he do? Help me… or leave me to this? It would be the easiest way to rid himself of me. I opened my eyes slowly and when I finally looked at him, his expression was unreadable.
“Finally,” he murmured, “I know what your fear smells like.”
He leaned closer, his voice lowering further.
“Pity… I like your defiance better.”
My lips parted as he stepped back, but I couldn’t find words.
“She’s with me.”
I stilled. That wasn’t what I expected. My eyes darted to the right as the tallest legionnaire swallowed and immediately shoved the rope behind his back.
“Of course, Ringbreaker. Our apologies.”
They all hurried toward the gate, calling for the others to open it. Good goddess. Even the legionnaires feared him. Thanor caught my arm and dragged me through it into the War Quarter.
“Now,” he said, “how will you repay me? Perhaps by showing me some respect for a change?”
I tore my arm free and put space between us.
“This has been your first and only decent act toward me. Don’t expect me to fall at your feet in gratitude.”
He threw back his head and laughed before gazing down at me.
“Although the image of you on your knees before me would please me greatly,” he said, amusement threading through his voice. “You’re more likely to bite me… than please me as you are now.”
I scoffed, though the warmth in my cheeks betrayed me.
We turned into a familiar path in silence as we entered the Traders Quarter. Ahead, the fountain of the Imperator rose into view, pale and imposing even at a distance, water droplets floating through the air. I slowed, sensing Thanor close at my back.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Your wish,” I replied sweetly. “My command.”
His eyes flashed before surveying the market.
It was already awake around us. Shutters stood open and awnings hung half unfurled, carts crowding the streets in uneven rows.
Children wove through the bustle with unrestrained energy, laughing as they darted between adults who scolded without real intent.
Their bare feet slapped against the stone, and somewhere nearby a merchant raised his voice in mock outrage over a toppled basket.
The air was thick with scent—warm bread, crushed herbs, roasted chestnuts, and the faint bite of iron from the blacksmiths as they forged spears, daggers, and every form of weapon beneath the rising heat of the sun. It was all achingly familiar.
The contrast struck me with unexpected force. With Elion, the market had always felt safe—not because of his strength, but because of his presence. I had never needed to watch my words or measure my steps at his side. I could wander, linger, and breathe.
But now… Physically, I was safe. It was myself I didn’t trust. Being near him stirred something reckless.
Every step beside him made me push—harder, further—until something broke.
I didn’t like what that said about me. Our exchanges lit a fire in me.
Hatred, yes—but something else as well. I couldn’t deny it any longer.
And even worse was the fear of what might happen if I ever stopped resisting his pull, if I let myself give in instead of controlling my baser instincts.
The man in question stopped, making me halt alongside him.
“Stay,” he said. “I have business to attend to.”