Chapter 26
My hands bound and my fate no longer my own, I sat in the carriage opposite a devastated Marcus. He looked at me with such anger, such cold disappointment that I refused to meet his gaze.
“Considering everything that has happened—and what you have seen—and because I, too, feel the loss of a dear friend, I will allow you a moment of grief,” he said at last, his voice controlled but sharp.
“But know this, Valentina, I am very disappointed in you. After every leniency I have granted, after urging you to embrace your potential, this is how you repay my kindness? By attempting to flee a place that honors the system and maintains order?”
He studied me as if I were a failed investment. “Such a pity. You will not go unpunished. We will speak of this once grief has settled. For now, do not speak. There are no words.”
He spoke as though his loss mirrored mine. As though our grief were equal.
I closed my eyes against the wave of sorrow rising and turned toward the window, the city slipping past in blurred silver streaks.
My injured wrist throbbed beneath the rope binding my hands, each jolt of the carriage tightening the fibers against torn skin, a reminder that even my pain no longer belonged to me.
The carriage lurched to a halt. Marcus stepped out at once, barking orders for the guards to escort me to my chamber and stand watch outside.
I wouldn’t be escaping again.
Dawn crept over the Ludaryn, warm light stirring it from sleep.
Servants and guards alike took note of my disheveled state as I was led through the halls, my bound hands and bloodstained leathers impossible to ignore.
A pained gasp echoed through the corridor, followed by the thud of a basket striking stone. Livia.
She stood frozen, her hands trembling at her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes as she looked at me with stricken sorrow. She moved, stepping forward. I gave a small shake of my head.
We passed into the Bondward Wing, where a cluster of people had already gathered.
Lucina stood at their center. She frowned at first, confusion flickering—then it shifted, far too quickly, into something else.
Something like satisfaction. I didn’t have the strength to care.
Every ounce of defiance and pride was drained from me, leaving only exhaustion and sorrow in its wake.
My chamber door was thrown open. The guards untied the rope from my wrists and shoved me inside. The door slammed shut behind me, leaving only silence.
I crossed to the bed and sat slowly, my body moving as if it no longer belonged to me.
Only then did I notice my hands, still stained with Elion’s blood that had dried into the lines of my skin. A broken sob left me as I curled in on myself, drawing my knees to my chest.
And then it came. My only family—gone. The one I had loved above all others. The weight of it pressed down until I could scarcely breathe.
Something in me went quiet. Emptied. Whatever had carried me this far flickered—and dimmed. Even my piercing felt dull against my skin, as though it, too, had gone silent.
“Let me in. Move!” Jorius’s voice rang through the corridor.
“We have strict orders to guard her. No exceptions,” a guard snapped.
“Idiots. You can stand inside and watch if you must. You don’t have to let her out. But by the goddess you’ll regret it if you don’t let me in.”
The guard muttered something reluctant. A moment later the door burst open.
“Tina—what happened?”
It closed again, softer this time. His steps crossed the room. The bed dipped behind me as he sat. I didn’t move. My body shook with sobs.
His hand rested lightly on my shoulder. “Hey… come here. Let me help you.”
I couldn’t. The sound that left me only broke further. He shifted closer and carefully curled himself around my back, his warmth enclosing me, steady and familiar. Slowly, I turned and buried my face against his chest, clutching at his leathers as I wept.
He said little, only stroked my hair and murmured reassurances into the crown of my head, words I couldn’t fully hear but felt nonetheless.
Time blurred. The storm inside me dulled. Exhaustion took what grief left behind, and I drifted into sleep in the shelter of his arms, his voice the last thing I heard.
When I opened my eyes, the light had faded from the window. Jorius was still there, propped above me, watching with unwavering intensity.
“Easy now… You’ve slept an entire day. Are you alright?” he asked. “Can you tell me what happened? You don’t have to. But I’ll listen.” His fingers brushed my hair back with careful gentleness.
I looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. He had been constant here. Him—and Livia. The only ones left. Alongside whatever it was that bound me to Vayren.
“I escaped,” I said. “Everything went according to plan. But when I reached Marcus’s villa… everyone was dead. Slaughtered.” I swallowed. “Then I found Elion. He was dying. Cut open.”
My voice felt distant. I had no tears left to shed; the grief had hollowed me out completely, leaving only an aching emptiness where something warm had once lived.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wish I could take it from you. Livia and I—we wanted you to find your freedom. Your happiness. I’m sorry it didn’t happen.”
He rose and crossed to the table, pouring water into a cup before returning. “Here. Drink.”
I took it. The coolness soothed my throat, settled in my empty stomach, which growled in protest.
“I will get you some food. I’ll be right back.”
He took the cup, set it aside, and slipped out, leaving the room quiet again.
He returned shortly after with a plate of food, pressing it into my hands as he explained that he was expected to attend to Rhenik and Ilyth. He apologized for having to leave me alone, guilt evident in his eyes. I assured him he’d done more than enough. That I would be fine. The words felt hollow.
He lingered a moment, then promised to send Livia if he could before leaving the chamber. But it wasn’t Livia who entered next.
Marcus stood in the doorway instead, composed as ever.
“May I have a word?”
I followed him to his office. When he sat, I remained standing a moment before lowering myself into the chair, my gaze settling on the dried blood still marking my hands.
“Again, I am sorry for your loss,” he said.
“Thank you,” I replied, lacking the strength for anything more.
“But considering your actions, I will not soften my words.” His tone shifted. “What happened was terrible, yes. However, your attempted escape cannot be ignored. I have been deliberating for hours and have come to a conclusion. I will not remove you from your station.”
I looked up at him, startled. I’d been certain I would be given an iron piercing—perhaps worse, sent to the mines in Ferrum, a mountain village far to the south.
“But,” he added, catching my reaction, “your punishment will not be light. The entire Ludaryn knows what occurred. The guards from last evening will face consequences as well. One left his post claiming there was a disturbance in the Bondward Wing and was later found locked inside a servant’s chamber.
He insists he has no idea who did it.” His eyes narrowed. “I assume that was you?”
I nodded, careful not to betray Livia or Jorius.
“You planned this for days, I imagine,” he went on.
“All while I presented you to honorable company, praising your professionalism and talent. I appear the fool now. I cannot respond lightly.” He folded his hands on the desk.
“Valentina, it pains me to say this, but you will no longer move freely within the Ludaryn.”
“And I must tell you… Elion was burned upon the pyre not long after you were returned to your chamber. The ceremony we held was brief but beautiful. We honored his devotion to the Ludaryn—to you—and to the system. I’ve issued the sculptors to grant him a statue in the Grand Hall beside Cassius.”
“What!” The word tore from me. I rose abruptly from my chair. “You did this without me? How could you!”
The tears I thought were all dried up now fell freely upon the table before me as pain threatened to rip me in half.
I hadn’t been able to see his soul leave for the afterlife.
There had been no one there for him. No one who truly knew him and loved him.
He was burned to ashes in a place I detested.
He deserved better. For the first time since waking, something other than grief surged through me—an all-consuming anger. My hands clenched at my sides.
He lifted a hand, his expression hardening. “Sit. Down.”
I held his gaze a moment longer, fury burning openly, then forced myself back into the chair.
“Furthermore, you will receive ten lashes this afternoon in the courtyard. There is no alternative. The others must be deterred.”
So I was to be punished. And once again, my humiliation would have an audience.
“I will allow you to bathe before Doctore administers the punishment. You will be summoned.”
My jaw tightened, hatred no longer hidden. “I understand, Lanista,” I spat through my teeth, turning toward the door.
“Wait.” I heard him rise behind me. “I am sorry our relationship has not become what I had with Elion. Here.”
He stepped closer and held out Elion’s satchel like it was a gesture of reconciliation. I took it without looking.
“Who killed him?” I asked, my voice low. “Who slaughtered everyone in your villa?”
He cleared his throat. “The Praetor has been called to investigate as we speak.” His gaze slid away from mine. “You likely do not realize how many enemies Elion had gathered over the years.”
I frowned.
“Men envied him,” he continued. “His talent. His influence. The freedoms he was granted. Very few Bondwards are ever permitted to retire from active service. Fewer still continue their work afterward. We spoke often these past weeks. He believed he was close to something significant.” He adjusted one of the rings on his fingers absently.
“He never told me exactly what it was. He guarded his work fiercely.”
His eyes settled on me then. “But he spoke of you.”