Chapter 23 #2
“As I said, the bonding is a sacred ritual between warriors.” The shaman threw out his thin arms, which were covered in intricate tattoos, as dark as his hair and the long beard weaving its way down his chest, telling the stories of every conquest King Gustief had ordered us out on.
“Tonight we are gathered to bind the heirs of our five fylkis to their seconds—the men and women who will protect their backs in our lands.”
“Where have you been?” Ilse whispered under her breath when he paused.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as quietly as possible. “I lost track of time.”
Kilia leaned behind Darcke and took something out of my hair. “Did you sleep in the woods again?” He laughed in a way that made me shuffle to the side so he couldn’t reach me anymore. “I heard the others plotting to go after you, so not returning to the longhouse was probably wise.”
“Shut up,” Darcke hissed. “I don’t need this to take longer than necessary.”
I caught Darcke’s eyes as I turned forward again, and my cheeks grew warm at the tight expression on his face.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“I didn’t ask,” the warrior replied sharply.
When I expelled a sigh, the shaman gave us a stern look before sweeping another arm out across the initiates.
“By the end of the Hird, when you’ve all graduated, you will each have formed your own iron-bound.
We allow only the heirs to bond with their seconds before the formal training because the trials they need to pass to be considered by the gods are too dangerous to face alone. ”
I winced when Darcke growled softly.
“Heirs, please step forward together with your chosen second.”
When I took a step away from my group of very reluctant iron-bound, Darcke followed, although it clearly was a struggle for him to get his feet to move.
He didn’t look my way at all. His head was turned forward, toward the king, Torden, and the other warriors who’d come up to stand guard around him.
On my other side Viljan took a spot, and something within me that I didn’t know was tense relaxed at the familiarity of his sharp features, the straight back no king could fault, and the eyes that didn’t betray anything that might storm within him.
“You okay?” Viljan whispered.
“Yes.”
It was not worth telling him what had happened last night. It wasn’t like he could change it, and regardless, nothing had truly happened anyway.
“We need to talk,” he continued.
“I know.” Despite what I knew would happen, I reached out to tap the back of my hand against his, but as always, it found only air.
Darcke clicked his tongue, and when I shot him a questioning look, his dark eyes went from Viljan to me and back to Viljan, the corners tightening.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” The warrior turned forward again.
“Vara.” Ivren leaned over Viljan, and despite how furious I was with him, I had to applaud his bravery, because the rage rolling off my guard made me want to retreat. “I’m sorry again. I… I need to explain. And I will.”
“I think you lost your shot, Solsken,” Ottoh said. “I doubt she’ll consider you in marriage after what you pulled.”
My elbow drove into Darcke’s waist when he laughed. As I whirled to Ottoh, I recoiled. He had red gashes running down his face, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. The sneer creeping across his face only amplified what my nails had done to him last night.
“Not that I know why you would consider it,” Ottoh continued. “She’s fucking feral.”
I pressed my tongue against my cheek, my jaw tensing. “I would say sorry, but I’m not after what you pulled.”
“You think I would stoop that low?” he scoffed. “You don’t intimidate me enough for me to want you dead. Besides, I don’t drug girls. I have no issues finding ones to spend time with me. And if I wanted to kill you?” His smirk was almost as chilling as Darcke’s. “You’d know.”
The surprise on Ottoh’s face was real. I was sure of it. But then…
Geord stood on Ivren’s side, and somehow he looked even worse than Ottoh. There was almost not a single spot on his face that wasn’t bruised and battered, and he stood at an awkward angle, one of his feet barely touching the ground.
“Don’t piss off my ship,” Darcke said as the shaman cleared his throat.
Geord’s eyes flashed, but as he opened his mouth, the shaman interrupted whatever he’d planned to say.
“If the heirs can stop their gossiping, perhaps we can start?” The shaman glared at us until Ivren and Ottoh nodded.
I was still too stunned by Geord’s appearance to do much more than keep my mouth shut and stay away from Darcke’s fingers, which furled and unfurled so swiftly by his side, the sound of it made my heart thunder.
“Great.” After sitting down and crossing his legs, the shaman waved for us to do the same.
I caught Rakkel’s wide eyes as she made to sit beside Geord, her guard—and her chosen second—Stefen following. I shrugged when she bounced her brows toward my bandages.
“I’m fine,” I mouthed when her face fell for a second, something haunted crossing her features. Her smile was strained, but as Stefen placed a hand on her arm, she focused on the shaman.
After a moment so did I, trying not to listen to Darcke sighing deeply again, his long legs awkwardly folded across the sunburned grass and his gaze higher than the rest of us, so he could perfectly execute his arrogant glare.
“The bonding today will tie you together with a tether closer than any friendship, family, or romantic bond can mimic. When the ritual is complete, you will be able to sense each other at all times, you will feel what the other feels, you’ll know when the other moves, and you’ll be able to fight in perfect rhythm.
” The shaman took turns tapping the ground before each of us heirs.
“Because of this, romantic connections between the heir and their second are forbidden. An entanglement built on desire compromises the bond’s integrity, and it may confuse you when you’re at your most vulnerable.
As such I need you to swear that no such connection has ever happened, and will ever happen, between you. ”
“I swear,” Ivren and Geord spoke in unison.
“Obviously fucking not,” Ottoh snarled as his sister laughed.
“I promise,” Rakkel said while Stefen averted his gaze, his head tilted to the hands he’d fisted over his thighs.
“Not an issue,” I replied.
“Definitely no issue,” Darcke added.
My eyes shot to the darkening sky when he moved several inches away to emphasize his words. As if I’d ever consider bringing someone as rude, brooding, and fucking terrifying as him into my bed. Wide shoulders and smooth, muscled backs were definitely not enough.
“The bond can be broken only if the heir dies, since the heir allows their second to claim part of their soul.” The shaman tapped Ottoh’s chest. “The only way to share the magic of your bloodline before you’ve earned your own mark is to give up a piece of yourself as a sacrifice to the gods.
Should the heir fall, the shard of your soul that you part with also allows your second to easily shift into your role and lead your people as if they were born to your parents. ”
I tensed as the shaman placed five chalices before us, then stared right at me.
“Elvara Sweengard, because you’ve chosen an unconventional bond, you will not be able to share your magic with your second. All other aspects of the bond remain true.”
I closed my eyes. That’s what I’d been betting on, but hearing it out loud?
Air trickled out of my mouth, and my fingers spread across the rough grass before I could stop them. I quickly closed my hands into fists when Darcke shifted beside me, his searing gaze moving over my face.
The shaman danced his fingers over the empty cups.
“When I call upon the gods, our five elements—wood, blood, earth, water, and steel—will fill these cups. You will each be called by one element, and whichever god the element honors will decide how your bonding is executed.”
I must have frowned because the shaman clarified.
“Each bond is unique. It’ll adapt to your second, to you—to your circumstances. Only the god who’ll follow your journey knows exactly how to bring you together.”
The king rose from his makeshift seat made from a fallen pine. “Is it time?”
The shaman nodded, and the air grew hotter as the karls pressed in, while the royals moved to stand behind him. As the shaman began a low, rhythmic chanting, a haunting awareness rushed over my skin, and I wasn’t the only one who shifted.
As I pulled my legs close, the air flickered, and gasps were heard all around us when the aurora exploded across the sky, our five colors flickering in equal strength.
The shaman’s eyes rolled back into his skull, and the words that spilled from his lips became more urgent, louder, until they beat against my eardrums.
I must have moved closer to Darcke, because he gave me a furious look.
As I was about to return it, the world went silent.
The shaman’s chanting, the restless shifting of the crowd, even the wind: all of it vanished as if a heavy curtain had been dropped over the realm.
Then came the darkness. It was so thick, pressing against my eyelids, searching for a way in. I tried fighting it, but it was useless.
My mouth rounded in a silent scream as I fell into a dark void, my stomach surging as I tumbled into nothing and everything at the same time, feeling as if I was drawn down into the crushing black of the sea.