Chapter 27 #3
When the meal ended, I approached Livia while the others filtered from the hall.
“Can you tell Marcus that Vayren is loyal once more?”
Sadness crossed her face, but she nodded.
“There’s something else,” I said. The words caught for only a moment before I forced them out. “I’m going to let him claim me.”
She stared at me in silence before her shoulders slowly lowered.
“Maybe…” she said. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
“I don’t have another choice. You were right yesterday.”
Her hand closed gently around mine. “I know. This place destroys people who stand alone.”
The silence stretched between us before she spoke again, her tone lighter, though it sounded forced. “I’m going to the market this afternoon. A few of the servants are going before nightfall.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Something flickered across her expression at that. Grief. Fear. Maybe both. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. I stiffened in surprise before slowly returning the embrace.
“I love you, Tina,” she whispered against my hair. “Like the sister I never had.”
My chest tightened painfully. I had to warn her. “Livia, about Marcus—”
“Just be careful,” she cut me off as she pulled away. Her voice wavered slightly. “Goodbye, Tina.”
Before I could answer, she turned and disappeared from the hall, leaving me alone with a growing sense of unease.
I stood there a moment longer, staring after her.
Why had that felt like goodbye? Not for the afternoon.
Not until tomorrow. Something heavier lay beneath her words, beneath the way her voice had shaken when she pulled away from me.
My fingers curled against my palms. Perhaps she was frightened for me. The ritual, the binding. What if it was dangerous? I forced myself to move toward the courtyard.
The sun stood high, relentless against the sand. The space looked altered from the night before. The poles and chains where Vayren had taken my punishment had already been removed, the evidence of his suffering erased as though it had never happened.
Kharos was pacing within his enclosure, his massive frame tense and alert. I approached him slowly. “Vayren is fine. Don’t worry,” I murmured, laying a hand against his fur. The tension beneath his skin eased, his movements slowing as if he chose to believe me.
A stir behind me drew my attention just as the gates opened with a long, echoing creak.
Vayren was led into the courtyard with broken lengths of chain still hanging from the iron cuffs around his wrists, the remnants of yesterday’s blood marking his skin as a silent testament to what had passed.
The guards shifted anxiously at his sides as Marcus entered a moment later, his presence alone enough to still the scattered conversations around us.
“Everyone gather.”
Bondwards and warriors formed a wide circle on the sand. I moved to stand beside Jorius, behind Marcus. Vayren didn’t look at me. He stared at Marcus with a composure so complete it might have been mistaken for obedience.
Marcus began to speak, then stopped. His gaze had fallen to the broken lengths of chain still hanging from Vayren’s wrists.
For the briefest instant, something flashed across his face.
Anger. Not loud or uncontrolled, but harsh enough that the guards stiffened beneath it.
Then it vanished just as quickly, smoothed away beneath his practiced mask.
“Remove them,” he said flatly.
The guards hesitated before hurrying forward. They unlocked the remaining cuffs from Vayren’s wrists, careful not to touch him more than necessary. Iron hit the sand with a dull thud. Only then did Marcus continue.
“Yesterday’s disruption will not be repeated.” His voice carried easily across the courtyard. “The system requires order. Chaos will not be tolerated, and those who disturb its balance will face consequences.”
He surveyed the gathered crowd before returning his attention to Vayren. “As champion of the Ludaryn, and as the Imperator’s chosen spectacle within the Maw, Vayren will retain his title.”
Lucina’s expression faltered and Sevrak’s stare hardened as it rested upon Vayren’s back, resentment simmering openly.
“But privileges will be withdrawn,” he continued evenly. “You will vacate the champion’s chambers. Your rations will be halved for the next fortnight. And you will renew your vow of loyalty to the Ludaryn—and to me—right now.”
“Kneel,” he commanded.
A subtle tension passed through Vayren’s frame, a tightening of his shoulders, the faint shift of his jaw that only someone watching closely would notice. The pause stretched longer than comfort allowed as murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd.
Panic surged in my chest, but not a moment later his gaze lifted and found mine. Something fierce passed between us in the space of a breath before he lowered himself to one knee before Marcus, his eyes never leaving me.
My breath left me slowly as I understood what he was doing.
“By blood shed in the Maw and steel raised in your name, I stand as your weapon—unbroken and bound until you release me.”
Marcus clapped his hands once as a broad smile spread across his face before dismissing the gathering. Then he motioned for Vayren to continue training. Order restored. Or so he believed.
I returned to Kharos’s enclosure and waited there in the heat, aware of every movement behind me until I heard the steady approach of heavy footsteps that stopped far closer than necessary. His presence settled at my back, and my piercing answered.
“A beautiful display of submission,” I said, letting my voice lower as I finally turned toward him. “I must admit… it pleased me more than it should have, seeing you on your knees.”
His hand found my waist, drawing me against him until the length of his body aligned with mine.
“Don’t… the others might see,” I breathed, even as my skin erupted where we touched.
“If you believe that was submission,” he murmured, “then you still have much to learn.”
His fingers traced the waistband of my trousers once, dipping beneath it before falling away again.
“Next time… you will be the one kneeling.”
The promise stole the air from my lungs.
“And when you do, little Bondward,” he continued, “it won’t be for spectacle.”
I cleared my throat. A low, amused sound rumbled from his chest as he brushed his fingers along my heated cheek.
“Don’t look so startled. We have time.” He grasped my chin. “I plan to ruin you slowly.”
With that promise lingering between us, he moved toward Kharos and retrieved his axes, smirking when he caught me watching him.
His back was flawless already, as if yesterday’s wounds had never existed.
He rolled his shoulders as he adjusted the weapons, and left me where I stood, unsettled by the desire moving steadily through my body.
The feeling curdled almost instantly. Elion was gone.
The thought struck with brutal force, hollowing the warmth from me as quickly as it had come.
I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat, refusing to let myself break apart here.
My hand drifted unconsciously to the bruise spreading across my stomach.
The last mark of Marcus’s control. The pain grounded me.
I welcomed it. Better that than the grief threatening to consume me whole.
The hours that followed stretched endlessly, my composure thinning with each passing moment.
My attention shifted again and again between Kharos and Vayren as I watched him drive his axes into the wooden pole with controlled force, the impact echoing while the sun traced a hard sheen across his skin.
He remained unreadable, offering no sign of when he intended to claim me or what that claiming would demand. No one spoke openly of it, just as no one spoke freely of the bonding ritual itself. I told myself nothing could shake me anymore. Not after everything.
At last he stopped. But instead of walking toward Kharos and me, he moved to the center, axes still in his hands, and without a word he drove the first into the sand with a resonant thud before letting the second follow, drawing every gaze toward him. Including mine.
“Valentina Greenwillow.”
My name carried across the courtyard and his gaze locked onto me with an intensity that erased everything else.
“I claim you as Bondward.”
I had known it would come today, had felt it building all morning like a storm waiting to break, and still the words struck deep.
I had resisted this moment my entire life, feared it.
But revenge demanded sacrifices, and if binding myself to Vayren was the price of tearing this empire apart, then so be it.
“Come.”
He extended his hand, and I crossed the sand without breaking his gaze as the others formed a loose circle around us, their presence distant. The space between us felt like the only thing that mattered. I was choosing to walk into the fire willingly.
As I placed my hand in his, he pulled me toward him, closing the distance in a single motion before bending to retrieve one of the axes.
A flicker of uncertainty passed through me as the blade caught the light, but he didn’t hesitate or explain.
Instead he drew the edge across his own palm, the cut clean as blood welled and spilled over his skin.
He straightened and lifted his bleeding hand for all to see.
“Does anyone here contest my claim?”
He turned slowly, watching everyone gathered around us, daring contradiction.
Tension tightened beneath my ribs while silence answered him.
His gaze paused on Sevrak, who responded only by spitting into the sand before dragging Lucina with him toward the far side of the yard, unwilling to challenge him yet unwilling to yield gracefully.
His stance shifted to Jorius next, who held his ground with fierce determination. My pulse rose. He wouldn’t do this.