Hellbound (Bound Duology #1)

Chapter 1

She was asking to be killed.

Ksenia’s clammy hands threw provisions into a burlap sack. The cramped hovel was filled with enticing notes of night jasmine, wafting from the cigarette pinned between her lips. It hovered between a floral musk and a peppery spice, and she let out a long exhale.

It was the only thing steadying her while they got as many families to safety from the king’s wrath.

She crossed the creaking floorboards to the window and flicked the frayed curtain edge open.

The window pane was filmy with condensation, cutting tracks through the grime.

Her golden-yellow eyes ghosted in it, narrowed on what lay beyond.

The streets were empty, save for lurching torchlight throwing long shadows around the corner like reaching fingers.

Ten doors away. Maybe less.

Deliberate, rhythmic pounding of a fist against wood echoed.

Unwelcome thoughts overcame her: people screaming, blood spilling, villages burning. All for the king’s hunt of bondsmiths: family lines capable of forging weapons that could bind to the wielder’s soul, becoming a harmonious extension of their bodies and wills.

And it was not only those who practiced the trade who had the potential to become one, but also their young. Metal ran in their veins before their hands ever learned the craft.

“Senna. Senna—are you all right?” Her elder sister shook Ksenia’s shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie.

Ksenia looked down at the crumpled loaf of bread in her fist, then shoved it in the bag. When you were on the run, you couldn’t refuse the sustenance available. And these kids would be in for a rough few days.

“I’m fine. We have to get moving; the raid will be here any minute.” Ksenia slung the sack over her shoulder and moved to the table.

She fumbled for the blank parchment on the splintered wooden table before her, and from her pocket dug out a rough but precious coin of blue-gray metal.

Wax from a dying candle dripped onto the tabletop, seeping between the cracks. Ksenia held the paper above the flame as she passed the coin over the worn parchment. Slowly, fine metallic shards magnetized and turned on the surface, revealing a missive in shimmering ink:

Wayfinder,

Warehouse district, third from the bridge with a broken carriage wheel at the door. They’re running out of time. Go tonight.

— North

Ksenia memorized the missive’s details before letting the flame lick the top corner until it was ash, leaving a hazy blue smoke. She tasted the acrid mineral from the burning ink and fought the urge to spit. Then, she tucked the coin back into her pocket.

The percussive sound drew closer. Nine doors away.

“Listen to me—we’ve done enough for the Bound Eye.” Danika’s voice was low but rushed as her brown eyes bounced to the sleeping baby on the threadbare mattress. “We’re cutting it too close to save anyone else. Don’t take this assignment.”

Ksenia crushed the cigarette underfoot. “Then we split up. If we go together, we’re more likely to get caught.”

“No. We’ve reunited forty-three families. We’re no use dead.” Danika cut in front of her sister. “Mum and dad always said we’re stronger together.”

“They’re not here,” Ksenia said sharper than she intended to.

Danika flinched, but didn’t back down. “They kept us alive for ten years.”

Ksenia took a deep breath; her sister smelled like leather soap and fire. Like home.

She clenched her eyes tight and broke free of Danika’s hold. “I can make it forty-four. Take the baby, and follow the forest route to the safe house. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous.”

Danika shook her head, wringing her powder-blue tunic between trembling fingers. “No, we’re escaping to Drenvar together. I’ll come back here after the raid passes and wait for you.”

“Since when are you the stubborn one?” Ksenia huffed.

“Since always. You just don’t notice because you’re worse.” Danika retorted.

“Fine, but you have to promise me you’ll clear out if I’m not back in an hour.” Leaving no room for argument, Ksenia handed her sister another sack of necessities and turned away before her resolve shattered.

A cool, masculine voice echoed closer, accompanied by pounding footsteps that were gaining ground down the street.

Tension snapped through her spine. “Time to go.”

They had evaded him for the last decade, and she didn’t plan on changing that.

Danika pulled her sister into a tight hug.

“Stay sharp.” Ksenia’s breath puffed in the air.

“Stay safe,” Danika whispered back, tears running down her cheeks and onto Ksenia’s cloak.

Ksenia pulled away and paused, memorizing every freckle, the gold flecks in her doe-brown eyes, the soft blonde wisps escaping her twin braids.

Swallowing thickly, she turned the doorknob to peer outside the decrepit cottage at the edge of Brannfels City, flanked by a foreboding forest.

A dozen or so shadows bled between the buildings. The guards moved methodically, barking orders as they fanned out. Soon, there would be nothing left between the butcher king’s bloodhounds and their hiding spot.

Lantern light beamed through soft rainfall, which collected in the rusted gutters.

She drew her scarf over her face and slunk out the back door with a wave. Danika would watch for longer than she should, keeping an eye on her as she padded over the winding flagstone street till she was able to disappear into the alleyway between the narrow townhouses.

Water ran down their steep gabled roofs and split into streams over the arched doorways. Beyond them, the buildings pressed against one another—homes and stores stacked shoulder to shoulder. The windows were dark and shuttered, every door sealed.

Moonlight shifted coyly between drizzling clouds as her boots clicked against the chill stone.

By now, the raid would have reached the dwelling, but Danika would be gone if she’d followed protocol.

The smell of fresh water mixed with tar and sodden wood greeted her nose as she rounded a crumbling storefront.

She paused at a yellowed poster with curled edges pasted on the plaster wall:

BY DECREE OF THE CROWN:

BONDSMITHING IS FORBIDDEN.

ANY PERSONS CAUGHT FORGING, WIELDING,

OR TRAFFICKING BOUND WEAPONS WITHOUT

PERMIT WILL BE EXECUTED. FAILURE TO COMPLY

IS TREASON. INFORMANTS WILL BE REWARDED.

She ripped the paper from the wall, tossing it into the canal next to her.

The water gave off a silvery glow, guiding her as she followed the channel until she spotted the bridge and counted one, two, three squat buildings. There, she spotted a rotted wheel leaning against a wooden door, banded with rust.

Ksenia took stock of her surroundings: narrow lanes between the warehouses, stacks of barrels and crates cluttering the riverfront. Stalking the shadows, she sidled up against the splintered door, its blue paint whitewashed from the sun.

She pressed her shoulder against the wheel, rolling it aside.

She peered through the gaping hole where the doorknob should’ve been, and then pried her fingers against the rough edge.

The door swung inward with a jerk, and a hard body tackled her to the ground, knocking her breathless. Elbows and knees jabbed into her stomach before she wrestled a pair of wiry, dark-haired boys off with a huff.

“Calm down! I’m with the Bound Eye, and I’m here to get you to safety—” Ksenia shielded her face from further assault with her forearm.

They rubbed their arms and sides sheepishly before stepping aside and allowing Ksenia to enter the warehouse.

Moonlight fell through the rotted ceiling, as did fetid rainwater.

It pooled on the floor, swirled with refuse, and Ksenia sidestepped a large puddle separating her from the remaining children.

Two girls with light flaxen hair huddled on a moth-eaten wool blanket that’d undoubtedly served as their cot for countless nights.

Their collarbones distended beneath their skin, their complexions ashen. Ksenia bit the inside of her cheek and reached into the supply sack, then beckoned them closer with the crumpled bread.

Slowly, the sisters unfolded their thin legs and ambled over, grubby hands outstretched and mouths watering. Ksenia looked away as the girls tore into the meager scraps, and she found more rations to give to the boys whose eyes were burning a hole through the sack.

“You must be starving.” Ksenia proffered some strips of dried meat to the boys. At their weight, they could’ve been younger than seven. But she knew better; they were much closer to teenage. The jerky disappeared from her hand, and the four children’s basest needs were briefly sated.

“Is it finally time to go?” the eldest boy whispered between bites.

“Yes, it’s time. Gather up your belongings.”

Ksenia bent to tie the boy’s fraying shoelaces, then the boys took one sister each, hands clasped tightly; they had clearly been moved around a lot through the network and knew the drill well. Ksenia pressed her lips together before turning around with a small smile.

“You’ve been very brave, and we need you to be brave just a little longer, but most of all, very quiet. Can you do that?”

Four heads nodded in the dark.

Satisfied, Ksenia turned and led them into the dark and misty night, ducking between alleyways.

Her blood chilled.

On a corner, a man slouched on an overturned crate, his hat pulled low. The tip of his dagger tapped against the metal rain gutter beside him.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

Each tap sent a jolt through her skull. A bound blade.

To the common ear, this was just a loitering man. Idly tapping.

The youngest girl began to turn her head. Ksenia caught her and turned her back forward.

“Eyes on me,” she murmured. “Don’t look at him. Don’t listen to anything but my voice.”

The girl’s lip wobbled, but she obeyed. The others clutched Ksenia’s cloak and stared straight ahead as they passed the man.

She finally let out the breath she had been holding after they passed a few more streets and reached another branch of the canal.

One by one, she helped them slide down the slick, algae-covered canal walls. One girl crinkled her nose at the smell.