Chapter 18
Eighteen
Blood Bound
Ilaid on the furs for what felt like hours, maybe even days, fading in and out of consciousness.
When I was awake, the pain was relentless, all encompassing. Sleep gave me no reprieve, offering only nightmares of the Dead Sea, a blade tearing through my heart or dark eyes watching me from the shadows.
The tent entrance rustled, and I braced myself for his presence to return. I hadn’t been conscious enough to see who was tending to me, any time the pain spiked, a warm liquid would be pressed to my lips and unconsciousness would embrace me.
A tall slender female with long dark waves cascading to her waist stepped into the dim light.
My eyes focused on her pointed ears. Diamonds pierced through the tips and dangling jewels hung from the bottoms. She regarded me and grinned, canines on view.
My heart sputtered as fear spread through my body.
“Oh, good. You are awake.” She paid no attention to my obvious fear and continued walking closer to me, her black skirt swaying around her. These creatures were not very modest, but it seemed warmer here. She placed a tray down in front of me, the smells luring a rumble from my empty stomach.
“You must be absolutely starving, darling. I will tend to your wound after,” her singsong voice held the same accent as the Commander.
I eyed the food suspiciously. I spooned what looked like meat and grains into my mouth, but there were other things I didn’t recognise.
A moan tore through me as the flavour spread over my tongue.
Spices I had never experienced exploded on my tongue as the fresh vegetables melted in my mouth.
The Fae female watched me with amusement as I ungraciously downed the entire bowl.
“Thank you,” I mumbled and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand despite the warm blush that had crept up my cheeks over my lack of decorum.
She nodded, her waves softly bouncing. “You are welcome, now come, let me look at this wound.” She moved towards me, and I flinched instinctively.
“Oh, please, darling. Whose clothes do you think you are wearing?” Her plump lips formed a soft frown. “I have looked after you for the past three moons and you fear me?”
My body relaxed slightly. If that were true, she wouldn’t hurt me. Would she? “Wait, are you saying I was asleep for three days?”
She smiled softly as she began grabbing supplies off a nearby shelf and laying them out on the table.
“Yes. You had lost a lot of blood and depleted your magic, and the spear had torn through your bone. It was difficult for me to heal and more comfortable for you if I kept you unconscious. I hope you understand.”
“Who are you?” I asked, curiosity prickling my skin. If my wound was that bad, I should have died or lost my leg.
“My name is Cerilla.”
“Lyra,” I returned. Withholding my last name felt like the right thing to do and I noticed that she had as well.
“Well, Lyra, you are lucky I happened to be here amongst all these brutes when you… arrived. Or you may very well be dead.” She finished preparing what looked like some sort of paste in a stone bowl before kneeling next to the bed.
“I was merely visiting, you see.” Her slender fingers paused over my bandage and her dark eyes lifted to mine. “May I?” she asked. I nodded reluctantly, and she began unwrapping my bandage. I braced for pain, but she was patient and gentle in her movements.
“Have you taken control of Stonebriar?” I blurted, my voice shrill.
Her giggle grated against my patience.
“Goodness no. We have far greater threats than Mortals darling, the Commander got what he wanted and got out.” She finished unravelling my bandage and I took a quick intake of breath. It was nothing but a pink puckered line against my pale skin.
“What threats?” I murmured, unable to tear my gaze away from my healed leg.
She sighed, “I have said too much already. My dear brother will already be enraged.” She began cleaning my wound with cold gauze. A dull ache pulled at healed skin, but nothing more. How is this possible?
“Your brother?” I asked carefully. I needed her to keep talking, any information could help me.
“The Commander,” she said with a soft smile.
I clenched the furs in my fists, my knuckles turning white.
Now that she’d said it, the resemblance was obvious.
They were both beautiful, like a blade drawn in moonlight.
Hypnotic, dangerous, and captivating in the most primal way.
They had the kind of beauty that lured you in, only to slit your throat.
I said nothing, clenching my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would snap.
Cerilla assessed me and sighed heavily, throwing dirty gauze to the side.
“Some advice, darling?” she said, mixing a salve in a small stone bowl.
“Because I’ve decided I like you.” She didn’t look up as she added more ingredients to the small stone bowl before crushing them.
“He needs you. But the Commander is the most powerful being this realm has seen since the Gods fell. The darkness he wields… isn’t always in his control.
” She paused, meeting my gaze. “Mercy is not one of his virtues. Do not test the limits of his restraint.”
I swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at her.
I had known I was in danger, but her words weighed heavily on my chest. “Thank you for the warning,” I whispered softly.
She nodded, pleased with herself and gathered the salve in her hand, smearing it on my wound.
I flinched automatically, expecting pain.
A relieving coolness spread through my body like waves lapping at the shore.
Her hands hovered over my wound, black mist gathered around her fingers.
She began quietly chanting in a language I didn’t know.
I watched in horror as the black mist enveloped my thigh, but no pain came.
A strange pulling sensation nestled against my skin, as if the tissue itself was knitting back together.
Healing. The black mist slowly swirled through the air, sinking back into her fingers.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my eyelids feeling heavy.
She gently began wrapping my wound. “Your body will demand rest now, to aid the healing process. I will check on you at sunrise.” My body relaxed back onto the soft furs, my eyes closing against my will.
I walked around the small tent, without limping. A tolerable ache spread through my thigh with every step, but I could walk.
“Try to run again, Little Drownling,” a deep voice came from behind me. His voice. My captor. “And you will regret it.”
I whipped around to face him, almost tripping on my feet. When had he come in? I hadn’t heard the rustle of the tent door or the sound of footsteps.
This monster has killed thousands of my kind. He killed Orin. He killed Bohdi. He could easily kill me. He pulled a small dagger from his belt.
“Imbue this,” he grunted as he dropped it onto the furs at my feet with a soft thud. Clearly, he did not see me as a threat if he was giving me a blade.
“Excuse me?” Maybe it was a language barrier, or perhaps I had misheard him.
His head tilted, eyes darkening. “Imbue. The. Dagger,” he repeated slowly, his accent drawing out the words in the rich timber of his voice.
My eyebrows drew together and my fists balled at my sides.
“Take me back or kill me. Just get on with it,” I demanded, raising my chin slightly.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back. It was Dreya’s spear that had struck me.
Did everyone at the barracks know I was a monster now?
Perhaps he should kill me, it would save everyone a lot of trouble.
His eyebrows raised as he stepped closer to me. Too close. But I refused to step back.
“Oh, but Drownling, I have plans for you this time.”
This time? I swallowed hard, hating the way my pulse quickened at his closeness.
His muscles shifted as he took another step towards me.
So close that I could feel the heat rolling off his body.
My power stirred in the darkness of my soul.
Kill him, it purred. My powers had been healing over the past few days, and I could feel it simmering beneath my skin.
Not that it mattered, the male in front of me could snap my neck without lifting a finger.
I took a retreating step back. His eyes tracked the movement, and a smirk tugged at his mouth. I was nothing but prey to him.
“Let me go. I am useless to you,” I whispered.
“No. You will imbue for me.”
“I told you already, I don’t know what that means!” I raised my voice; he merely studied me.
“Let’s make a blood deal then, Little Drownling,” he growled, clearly out of patience. The primal part of my brain told me to run from this predator, not make a deal with it.
“You will find the Soul Relics and imbue my weapons then I will give you a chance to run.” His voice had dropped an octave.
“Will you chase me?” I asked, eyeing his predatory smirk.
“Clever girl,” he chuckled, the sound a deep vibration through his chest that made my toes curl in fear.
“After you do as I ask, I will give you a head start.” He leant back, pleased with himself.
He obviously didn’t know I was royal blood and had no plans to try to leverage me.
Every bone in my body screamed at me not to make a deal with the Commander of Death.
But what if I could get something in return?
“I want something else,” I said, squaring my shoulders.
“You’re not in a position to make demands.” His eyes darkened, the whites growing smaller.
“Do you know anything about the Sea Goddess?” I shouldn’t have asked.
I was used to dealing with powerful men and I knew what happened to women who did more than aimlessly agree.
But I couldn’t help it. Not then. Not now.
I was never good at doing what I was meant to do, a fatal flaw I was sure would end my life one day.
The Commander was unnaturally still, shadows crawling across his skin as if they wanted to drag him into the darkness.
“Do you?” he countered.
Somehow, I was connected to her. It was what deemed me a monster and I needed to know why.
“No.” The lie was partly convincing, but the way his mouth tugged into an arrogant smirk, I wondered if he had heard my pulse speed up.
He raised his hand to his mouth, dragging a canine against his skin, blood pooling inside his palm.
“I possess the journal of the goddess’s killer, make a blood bargain with me and it is yours.”
My pulse quickened, and I raised my palm towards him, offering for him to do the same to mine. If books existed on the Relics, I needed them.
He looked at my hand and then back up at my face, amusement flashing in those endless eyes.
“Do not tempt me.” His voice had deepened slightly, and I drew my hand back instinctively.
How na?ve was I? I had just offered a blood-sucking Fae to sink his teeth into me.
He picked up the dagger from the blanket with his large, callused hand.
He flipped it and caught it by the blade, extending the hilt towards me.
My fingers wrapped around the handle, accidently brushing over his fingers and a shock of heat sparked where our skin met.
His nostrils flared almost imperceptibly, a quick flicker of something dark flashing in his eyes. He dropped the dagger into my palm as if my touch had repulsed him. I stared into his onyx eyes as I ran his blade across my hand, slowly and deliberately not flinching from its sharp bite.
His strong jaw flexed, his gaze darkening as he watched me intently.
A small gasp escaped me as his large hand grasped mine, our blood mingling between our palms. He murmured something in a language I did not understand before opening his eyes.
They were completely black again. This close, it was terrifying.
“I will give you the journal,” he murmured darkly. “Once you earn it, it’s yours and until you imbue enough weapons for me, we cannot kill each other.”
His eyes bore into me so heavily that they felt like a physical force. Drowning me all over again.
“Now you repeat your end of the bargain,” he grunted, as if I were daft.
“I will imbue your weapons, or whatever it is you ask of me.”
He gave me an unsettling smile as heat radiated through my palm and into my very soul. Searing. Alive. It felt as though I’d pressed my skin against a brand, and it had set every nerve on fire. I flinched, staring in shock as intricate lines bloomed over the skin of my left hand.
Delicate, deliberate lines that formed a symbol, pulsing with latent power.
It was a wave, mid-crash, curled fiercely towards the stars inked above it.
Sharp, celestial points arranged in a constellation I didn’t recognize, yet something inside me ached with familiarity.
The crashing tide mirrored the very shores of home…
and the stars above felt like a map etched into my soul.
“Interesting,” the Commander ground out, voice lowered. I looked up and noticed he was studying an identical mark on the back of his own left hand.
“What does it mean?” I whispered.
His starless eyes shimmered with something unreadable. “A physical reminder of our bargain. If one of us breaks it, we both die.” My heart stuttered. The large male stood, and without sparing me another glance, stormed from the tent. What have I done?