Chapter 27 #3
“Grant you my magic?” My panic started to take over, darkness smearing the edges of my vision, my head light from lack of oxygen. “What are you talking about?”
“Why do you think we need to drain you of your blood? It’s not just in sacrifice.
You hold the greatest power, my dove. You are the magic key that will restore our powers again.
” He tipped his head, taking delight in my ignorance.
“The foretold day of your sacrifice, the magic you hold will be bestowed back into the land.” He leaned in closer.
“I’m tempted to drain you now, store your blood for myself to use.
But I need to make sure everything goes to plan and that your magic will siphon to me as you die. ”
“Siphon to you?” I tried to understand what he was meaning.
“This tattoo will not be just a symbol on you, like you have now.” He flicked his chin at the crude marks down my neck. “Mine will be blood bound. And on the day our magic returns, all your powers will merge with me.”
“Merge? Blood bound?” I repeated, my stomach dropping at the phrase.
“Do you even know what a blood bond is?” He frowned, finding my lack of knowledge an annoyance now.
A memory rose to the surface. I recalled from my schooling an old story about the power of blood, back when we held magic on the backs of our wings, able to travel through foreign worlds.
At one time every bonded couple could magically mark their mate to be able to always find each other when traveling into other realms.
“When we share blood, marking ourselves with the same symbol, it will bind us to each other. We share everything.”
A sick sensation swept over me like a rushing river. My gaze shot over to Onyx’s concealed figure, his gloved hands at his sides, the right one hiding a symbol on it. He had kept it hidden from Helvig since returning.
“I will not only be your master but will be able to access your powers the moment you obtain them.”
“What?” A wisp of a word.
“Your duty is to protect, Wrennlyn. Guard it with your life. The White Raven can be used for evil as well as good.” My father told me many times.
King Helvig lowered the needle to my chest, the point pushing through my skin into the previous tattoo. Searing pain arched my back, a scream ripping from my throat. All I could hear was my pulse in my ears, a symphony of agony crashing through my veins like a tempestuous sea.
“Hold still!” Gavric demanded, pushing the ink-dipped needle back into my chest.
Bile charred the back of my throat, my muscles straining against the straps, anguish dampening my skin as he tried to deepen his mark, howling out into the empty sky.
“Hold her down!” he ordered the men.
The first one moved quickly, holding down my shoulders, while Onyx stood stiffly, his hands curling and uncurling.
“Hold her!” he screamed at Onyx’s covered figure, while he tapped the needle back into my chest.
I no longer felt tied to my body, my screams piercing the air, my body convulsing. There was so much pain, my nerves were an open fire, searing under my skin.
“What the fuck is wrong with her?” the king shouted at Morrigan. “Why is she screaming like that? Do something!”
She scrambled up, moving to his side, her hands touching the prick of blood bubbling under his needle. Morrigan’s eyes widened, her feet shuffling back away from me.
“What? What is it?” Gavric’s voice thrummed with the music, everything crashing together in harsh surges.
“She’s—she’s already blood marked.”
“What?” The king went still.
“She’s already had someone blood bond with her,” Morrigan replied, swallowing nervously.
“How do you know?” His tone cold and deadly.
“I can sense it.” Morrigan shook her head, terror wrinkling her brow. “I know it shouldn’t be possible, but I can feel it.”
Rage pumped Gavric’s chest up and down.
“Whose?”
“I—I don’t know,” she whispered.
His gaze snapped to the tattoo on my neck, fire burning behind his eyes. “onyx! Come before me now!”
The crowd gasped and murmured, searching for the elusive hersir to step up.
“You know only a king has that kind of power, my lord,” Morrigan stuttered. “Huginn and Muninn could judge only you worthy of such dominion, my liege.”
“A king.” Gavric’s hands grabbed my shoulders, twisting me to my side.
I felt a blade slice into my gown, the cool air snapping against my hot skin, the tip of the knife scraping down my spine, finding the mark of the raven below the Helm of Awe, in the middle of my back where our raven wings used to be.
Every Day Raven had some form of the Helm of Awe tattooed on our backs at a young age. It was the rite of passage, a symbol of our heritage, our people, our missing wings, but I had never felt any power from it except emotionally.
“Vorian bonded to his own daughter?” The king sneered in disgust.
My throat filled with bile, the idea making me want to crawl out of my skin. It was disgusting. The ritual was only between lovers, deepening the bond.
The White Raven was the one to rule by his side. But not like that. Gavric was wrong. I knew who shared his blood with me, and he was standing right next to the king.
“That seems the only possibility,” she reasoned. “What would you do to possess the White Raven, my lord?”
“Then, I will cut it out!” He regripped the blade, pushing me further unto my side. “I will bleed her of his mark!” His nose flared, something snapping behind his eyes. “She is mine!”
“Majesty, you can’t!” Morrigan exclaimed. “The deities will be angry. Huginn and Muninn might curse us, not just the land! We can’t take the chance. It’s a sacred bond.”
“Then she will be marked with my own!” He screeched once again into the night. “Mine will dominate, mine will own her body and soul!”
“No!” I screamed, my body thrashing and fighting against the restraints.
“You are mine!” He climbed up on the table, flattening me onto my back again, straddling me, his eyes burning. “No one will possess her but me. I am the destined ruler!”
“Noooo!” I bucked and snarled, knocking the blade from his hand, the knife clanking onto the stone surface.
“Stop it!” he roared, grabbing the blade again, his voice crazed, slicing the smock down the middle, exposing my breast as he untied his robe.
“You will bear my mark and be filled with my seed!” he hissed in my ear, cutting the knife into his own skin, blood dripping down his chest as he carved just below my left breast.
Agony shrieked through me, but it wasn’t his cut I felt. The tattoo down my neck raged with fire, blinding me with excruciating pain. It throbbed like a heartbeat, like it was alive under my skin, bubbling like burning oil.
“Fucking hold still!” He curved the blade deeper and I bled, as his own blood dripped down onto me.
“No . . . please,” I whimpered. “You don’t understand.” Duty. Duty. Duty.
“Shut up.” He tugged at his tunic, wiggling it up past his hips. “The gods will accept this union, declare my right to the White Raven.”
“No! Stop!”
His knees pressed into my hips, holding me still. He gripped himself, fumbling to find my entrance.
A growl so deep I felt it in my bones came from behind the king. Gloved hands clutched the king’s shoulders, his body wrenched off me. The king hit the platform with a thud, tangling in his robe as he rolled.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Stunned, his features quickly morphed into fury, shrieking at the masked sentinel. “You will be put to death for this! How dare you interfere! I am your king!” He stood up, pointing at the masked shield. “Night Hunters, kill him!”
Movement stirred in the crowd as a horn shrilled in the distance.
Everyone’s attention whipped out into the dark forest surrounding us as the blare of an ox horn sounded again, the rumble of horse hooves moving in close.
King Helvig came to attention, although a flicker of confusion and weariness briefly clouded his eyes before his spine went straight.
“Night Hunters!” he barked out. “Invaders! Defend your kingdom! Do not let them near the White Raven!”
Cries came from the crowd as people scattered in chaos. Most wore simple tunics, not ready for an attack.
Brynn, Renyx, Sven, and Bj?rn reacted instantly, forming a line, the only ones dressed properly, their weapons in hand, as other guards joined them.
Hope thundered in my chest.
Father.
He had come for me.
Maybe Brynden had reached him, or maybe it had all been a ruse. It didn’t matter; my king was here to save me.
Horse hooves hit the ground, at least twenty riders breaking through the trees. My head twisted, waiting to see the silvery coat of my father’s steed, Bodil, or even my horse, Asta, knowing she was smart enough to find her way home after Onyx set her free.
However, only darkness moved in, like shadows with obsidian eyes, the firelight glistening off their fangs, their riders hooded, holding swords and bows.
The Jackals.
Terror gripped my chest as dozens and dozens of them rode into the clearing. Screams pierced the sky as arrows whooshed through the air. There was no talk, no negotiation or compromise.
They came to kill.
“Your Majesty!” The other masked guard shielded him.
King Gavric ripped the sword from his grip, shoving the man aside.
“Get her back to the castle! Now! Do not let anything happen to her!” he ordered before he leaped down, joining those who could fight.
My father was no different; kings should never be afraid to go into battle, to be on the ground with their people. It was in the Raven blood. We grouped together to fight, driving out the foreigner.
The guard moved for me as ordered when a draugrhest neighed from nearby, an arrow whooshing the air, piercing the shield’s chest and tumbling him off the dais. The hooded rider galloped closer—I could feel its eyes on me.
I was the target.
“Go!” Onyx waved off Morrigan, rushing to me. His blade sliced through the leather straps, freeing my arms and legs. “Come on!” he bellowed, helping me off the table.
Blood leaked through my gown, but I felt nothing as Onyx pulled me behind the altar to hide.