Chapter 27 #4
Jorius looked at me for what felt like forever before finally nodding.
I gave my eyes to the sand. Vayren shifted back to me.
His hand came to my neck, firm, as he swept my hair aside and turned me toward him, exposing my piercing.
Then he pressed his bleeding palm over it, warm and wet, and spoke the words without raising his voice.
“By blood freely given and light called forth, I bind my life to yours. Let my breath answer yours, and my blade answer any who threaten it. Before beast and witness, the bond begins.”
Pale light burst behind my eyes. A wave of cold moved through me as something unseen reached from him and answered inside me, not complete and not yet sealed, a thin living thread forming between us as his magic met mine and began the first fragile shaping of a bond.
My vision went dark, and within that darkness I saw shapes moving like smoke, blood and light drifting toward me in sparkles as if drawn by the same force that held us together, and just as I tried to reach for them, the courtyard came back into focus until there was nothing on my mind but Vayren standing before me.
His brow furrowed for the briefest moment, before he smoothed it away, aware of the circle gathered around us.
“Your turn,” he said, offering me the axe and nodding toward my hand.
I accepted it despite the tremor in my fingers, lifted my palm, and drew the blade across it in a single motion, flinching as the steel opened my skin and blood welled. He stepped closer and lowered his head so I could reach him.
“Repeat after me,” he murmured, his voice quiet enough that only I could hear it as he guided my bleeding hand to the small ring at his ear.
His eyes closed as he spoke the words, and I followed, my voice steady.
“By blood freely given and spirits called forth, I bind my life to yours.
Where you are broken, I will restore. Where the saber weakens, I will fortify.
Before beast and witness, the bond begins.”
A rough breath escaped him when I finished, and beneath my hand I felt his jaw tighten as his breathing shifted for a brief moment before he mastered it. When he opened his eyes, a fiery light moved within his pupils.
“It is done,” he said. “The bond has begun to take shape. The final sealing must be completed at the temple within twelve hours.” He lowered my hand from his ear. “You did well.”
The circle around us loosened as the others drifted away. Jorius didn’t look at me as he walked away, and though the tension in him was clear I chose not to dwell on it.
Vayren told me to return to Kharos, then made his way toward the guards, speaking to them in low tones that carried enough authority to ensure Marcus would be informed that the bonding would have to take place that very night.
Training continued as usual. I fed Kharos and hauled over bucket after bucket of water, which he drank greedily. When night fell and the courtyard emptied beneath the torchlight, Vayren stopped behind me.
“Who do you want as witness at the temple?”
“We won’t be alone?” I asked, surprised.
“Kharos must be present,” he replied, “and another Bondward with their warrior and saber as well, to cement the bonding. We only have one hour before we leave. Who do you choose? I have no preference, though I can’t guarantee everyone survives the night if you select Sevrak,” he added.
“You don’t want Lucina there? I thought you were close,” I taunted as I fluttered my lashes with feigned innocence.
He threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. My mouth parted in surprise. He was full of contradictions. One moment all sharpened edges and threats, the next almost disarmingly alive. Dangerous. Especially because some reckless part of me was beginning to enjoy his company.
The laughter faded, though a spark remained. “I knew you would be trouble the moment I saw you at the Aedile’s villa,” he said, his voice rough. “Most people lower their eyes around me. You looked ready to put a knife in my throat instead.”
The corner of his mouth tugged. “Imagine my surprise when I found you marching into Kharos’s enclosure not a week later, where no Bondward dares.”
He drew me toward him, claiming my mouth in a dominant kiss that left no room for doubt.
The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, until my resistance faltered and he took control completely.
I should have shoved him back. Should have remembered why I was doing this.
Freedom. Revenge. But the warmth of him, the sheer force of his presence, made thought dangerously difficult.
When he finally pulled away, he kept me pinned firmly against him, his hand still locked at my waist, his breathing rough against my lips. “Choose,” he murmured darkly, “before I lose myself, drag you inside, and force your decision from you in other ways.”
His gaze held a challenge. Desire stirred traitorously through me until the ache in my stomach barely registered, but I ignored the feeling. “Jorius will do just fine.”
“Fine. Though Rhenik is a loose cannon at the best of times.”
His words drew a laugh from me, easing the tension from my shoulders. His eyes flickered. “I will see you in an hour.”
With that, he strode back into the Ludaryn, the guards falling into step beside him as they escorted him toward the holding cells. Since I was no longer permitted free rein throughout the Ludaryn, a guard followed me to the bath chamber where I washed before the ritual.
When I emerged, still damp from the steam, a servant informed me that Marcus was pleased with my maneuvering of Vayren and that I would be forgiven, provided I continued to adhere to his wishes.
I offered no reply, unwilling to wear a full mask of obedience, fire twisting alongside the grief that hadn’t loosened its hold.
I returned to my chambers. Servants awaited me—Livia not among them. They held up a dress that made me frown. I touched the silk, my breath catching. It shimmered silver and was entirely sheer.
“Is this a joke?” I asked, my irritation mounting as I looked at the woman presenting it.
“No, Bondward. This is the ceremonial dress for female Bondwards.”
I took it from their hands and let it fall to the stone. “I will not wear this and be paraded throughout the entire Ludaryn and beyond.”
They gasped and hurried to retrieve the discarded silk.
“Tell Marcus I will wear my leathers,” I said, crossing my arms.
“I am sorry… but these are his orders,” one of them stuttered and hastily added, “Nobody will see you. There is a cloak that goes with it.” She bent over the basket they had brought in, lifting a matching silver cloak, thankfully not sheer.
“You may wear it until you arrive at the temple. The priests are female only. They, and your warrior, will be the only ones to see you. It is required during the bonding ritual to be as pure as possible, otherwise your magic will not bind as strongly.”
“Fine… are you telling me male Bondwards wear the same?”
“No. They wear a loincloth… I am sorry.”
I exhaled slowly. “It’s alright.”
I stood before the mirror as they undressed me and draped the sheer, shimmering silk over my body, fastening it to golden rings at my arms and neck. My hair was left unbound, brushed loose around my shoulders and down my back.
For a long moment, I studied the woman staring back at me.
The sun had dusted even more freckles across my face and shoulders, and the pale skin I’d worn all my life had darkened slightly.
My dark red hair, once deep as autumn leaves, had brightened beneath the fierce sunlight, catching threads of copper.
Only the shadows beneath my golden eyes betrayed the exhaustion I could no longer hide.
I scarcely looked like the woman who had arrived in the Ludaryn barely three weeks ago. Yet standing here in shimmering silk, I felt less like a participant in a sacred rite and more like an offering laid carefully in place.
A sense of anticipation remained low within me as I drew the cloak around me, grateful for the way it shielded me entirely.
When we stepped outside, Vayren was already waiting.
He wore his armor as if prepared for battle rather than ritual, Kharos standing behind him, vast and silent, his presence commanding even in stillness.
Vayren gave a single nod when I moved into step beside him, and the guards turned as one to escort us toward the temple.
As we walked, the moon rose fully into the sky, casting the streets in silver light.
Caelora had shifted into evening. Voices lowered as people noticed us passing, their attention drawn to the formality of our dress and the banners carried before us, the Imperator’s sigil marking the ceremony as official.
Every gaze rested upon Vayren. He was feared and celebrated in equal measure.
I glanced ahead, the outline of the temple emerging in the pale wash of moonlight.
With each step I felt the weight of what awaited me, the certainty that my future was about to be sealed.
The course of my life had shifted entirely; the freedom I once craved now seemed almost childlike in its simplicity, worn away by the trials of so little time.
I understood at last why Elion had kept me close, and guilt rose within me as I recalled the many times I had resisted his protection, determined to step beyond his shadow without grasping what waited there.
He had known. I had not believed him. Now he was gone, and I couldn’t tell him that I finally understood.
I let the grief settle rather than consume me, shaping it into something useful. Vayren was power, and power was exactly what I needed now. Freedom no longer felt like enough. I wanted vengeance. I wanted the empire that had taken everything from me to choke on its own blood.