The Bound

by K. A. Linde

  Blood spotted the front of his tunic from the claw marks that were reddening under his gaze.

  The beast was slow to get up, but get up, it did. It appeared that the knife hadn’t completely pierced his jugular, and he was still moving, despite the blood flowing out of his throat like a torrent.

  It was sluggish this time but desperate. Ahlvie barely missed a slash at his sleeve, and at the last second, he kicked up with the dagger in the toe of his boot and drove it into the beast’s chest. Ahlvie rushed at him then and brought his final dagger through the Indres’s throat, severing his jugular.

  It twitched, as if clinging to life, and then fell into darkness.

  Ahlvie leaned over the creature, heaving and holding his hand over the open wound on the Indres’s chest. He heard howls slice the night air, and he shuddered.

  The Indres knew their leader had fallen. They would come for him. Either to take their retribution from his flesh or name him their new Alpha. He could feel them beckoning to him in the chilly night air. His pupils dilated in the dim lighting, and he choked on the summons calling to him from the Indres pack.

  “No,” he whispered.

  I have my own mission. I have Cyrene. Protect Cyrene.

  “No, I can’t.”

  The air closed in on him, and then he fell face-first onto the maze floor, next to the fallen Alpha. He busted his lip open, and his forehead split. He gasped for breath as their summons seized him. As he fought to stay away from them, black filled his vision, and he gave in to their request.

  Cyrene adjusted the red mask on her face to make sure it fit snug against her skin. Red feathers were attached to one side, and the rest was studded in jewels. It obscured most of her face, but she had added a bright red lipstick after Avoca had left. She knew that she was supposed to remain invisible, but it wasn’t in her nature.

  At that moment, King Creighton and Queen Jesalyn made their grand entrance. Cyrene stifled a laugh. Jesalyn had done just what Cyrene had suspected—scrapped the dress she’d had prepared for the occasion and gone with something Cyrene had claimed was all the rage in Albion. The gown was an obnoxious pink color with a million overlapping pieces of ribbon cascading down to the ground over a large tulle skirt. The top dipped in a V lower than Cyrene would ever consider decent and had a wide collar that was hardly flattering.

  Cyrene tore her eyes from Jesalyn long enough to search out Kael. To the King’s right, he stood in Byern formal clothing. Oh, how she had missed it! Home called to her at the sight of him in Dremylon green and gold.

  King Creighton stepped forward to address the crowd, “Lords and ladies, noble houses of Aurum, esteemed guests of House Iolair, I, Creighton Lanett Cavel Iolair, Arrow of the Huntress and Guardian of the Eagle, King of Aurum, and my lovely wife, Jesalyn Adelaida Dremylon Iolair, Queen of Aurum, do welcome you to the first ball of the Eos festival season.”

  The King drunkenly pitched forward, and Jesalyn quickly stepped in to keep him upright.

  “I, Queen Jesalyn Iolair, the Living Huntress and Savior of the Eagle, have prepared this supreme occasion for our honored royal guests. It is my great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you this evening. I am fortunate enough to have my brother, Crown Prince Kael Dremylon of Byern, with us this evening.” She gestured toward Kael, who bowed. “In addition to that, this ball marks the end of our time with Prince Dean Ellison of Eleysia.”

  Cyrene’s throat went dry. From behind Jesalyn’s left shoulder, a man stepped forward. He was tall with light hair pulled back off his face.

  That beautiful face. The hunter from the forest.

  No.

  She couldn’t be this stupid. It just wasn’t possible for that Prince Dean Ellison of Eleysia to be her Dean. She had thought that he was just some common hunter. With the way his friends had gone on about his father, maybe a merchant’s son or even a nobleman’s son. But a foreign prince?

  She’d had her fair share of speaking indignantly to Kael and even Edric, but she never should have acted like that around Dean. She had berated him for his kill, told him to give it over to the hungry, and refused to see him ever again. And he could have been their ticket out of here. A very handsome ticket at that.

  “Thank you so much for attending. Now, let’s dance.”

  Queen Jesalyn took the hand of her husband, and they walked out to the center of the dance floor as the rest of their party followed in their wake including Orden. Music started from an orchestra against one wall, and soon, the entire room was flowing with dancers.

  Cyrene searched out Avoca and Ahlvie but couldn’t seem to find them in the crowd. Maelia had just been asked to dance by Orden, and they were close to the King and Queen.

  Cyrene let her eyes fall on Dean. Perhaps that was a better plan after all. If she could get the attention of Prince Dean, then maybe they could have an easier time in escaping all of this. She kept her sights on him as she prowled the room. He danced several dances with different simpering ladies-in-waiting, and she tried to find the best way to intercept him.

  She was halfway across the room when Kael Dremylon materialized out of thin air.

  “Will you do me the pleasure?”

  Cyrene’s heart rate skyrocketed, and she reached for her mask to make sure it concealed her face. She covered the movement by pushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear and downcast her eyes. Thankfully, they were still the dull brown Avoca had changed them to.

  Creator! Ceis’f was supposed to be here to intercede on her behalf. He was supposed to be watching Kael.

  “I…I was just looking for my suitor actually,” she stammered.

  “He will have to wait then.” Kael took her hand regardless and pulled her into the throng of dancers.

  Cyrene stumbled over her steps on purpose. The last time she and Kael had danced together, she had decided he was the best partner she’d ever had. She needed to be less than spectacular at the present moment.

  “You know, I do think red is your color,” he said. “It would be scandalous in my homeland, of course, but red is popular here.”

  She tried not to let the shock register on her face. He could not possibly know it was her. Yet Edric had said the same thing when she arrived in red for the Presenting and her Affiliate ball.

  Cyrene found her voice again and lowered it before speaking, “If it pleases you, my Lord.” She cringed at her own simper. But she had to do it.

  She had to act like one of those idiotic ladies-in-waiting. If he didn’t notice her from her face, then he would certainly recognize her attitude.

  His eyes roamed from her face to the clingy red silk dress she had chosen for the occasion.

  “It pleases me.”

  She didn’t dare hold back her blush, acting like a good little lady wanting to take home a prized Prince.

  The dress itself was a blend between the Byern style Lady Cauthorn had created for her and the bulkier Aurum style. The skirt was full but had layer upon layer of sheer material. The bodice was a long-sleeved silk creation with rubies sewn into the fabric and the same sheer material fanning out along the scoop neckline.

  The music started for the next dance, a variation on the Four Queens dance back home. Their bodies moved in sync to the simple steps, and her mind drifted off to the first time she had met Kael and when they had danced the Haenah de’Lorlah in perfect time.

  “You dance very well, my lady.”

  Creator! She had forgotten that she was supposed to dance poorly.

  “Th-thank you, my Lord.”

  He twirled her around in place, and then they interlocked arms to walk in a circle with the other participants. She tripped just twice and stepped on his foot for show. The dance was almost too common to dance at home, but she had seen it many times in the streets during the festival season.

  “What troubles you?”

  “My Lord?” she asked in confusion.

  “All of the other ladies have talked my ear off during every dance, yet here you are, leaving me i
n silence.” He smirked playfully down at her.

  “My apologies. Wh-what would you like us to speak about?”

  “There you go again,” he said cheerfully.

  Cyrene scrambled for what a lady-in-waiting would say to grasp the attention of the Prince of Byern. Likely none of the topics she would have spoken to him about. Even when they had first met, they had spoken of her educational pursuits and the advancement of the country more than frivolity.

  “Do I distress you?” He turned her to face him and then walked her backward through the next series of steps.

  “No, my Lord.”

  Kael pulled her closer, so they were touching. “Then, I must just make you uncomfortable,” he breathed into her ear.

  “Of course not, my Lord,” she whispered, struggling to keep her voice neutral. But her stomach was in her throat, and she felt like she was suffocating. She needed to get out of this situation.

  Where is Ceis’f? Avoca? Ahlvie? Anyone to stop this.

  “Please let me know if I am.”

  “I doubt you could make me uncomfortable,” she whispered.

  “That is good to hear,” he said with a touch of laughter to his voice. “I would hate to sustain another candelabra to the head.”

  Cyrene gasped and then tried to cover it by coughing. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  But she did. When she had been trying to flee Albion, Kael had intercepted her and in a desperate move, she had hit him on the head with a candelabra to get away.

  “Oh, I think you do.”

  His blue-gray eyes were twinkling in the candlelight. He had been toying with her! Kael knew.

  She took a step away from him, and he made to follow.

  “Mind if I cut in?” Dean asked.

  Kael narrowed his eyes. “We have unfinished business.”

  “Yes,” Cyrene said quickly to Dean.

  “You mind?” he asked, ignoring Kael.

  “No, no. I don’t mind.”

  She nearly flung herself into Dean’s arms to get away from Kael. Whatever the mission had been, it was no longer that. They needed to be gone from this place. It wasn’t safe.

  A new song began almost immediately, but she was practically hyperventilating. While she’d wanted to dance with the mysterious Prince who had dressed like a commoner while out in the city, she couldn’t concentrate on that at the moment.

  “Are you feeling well?” Dean asked, walking her a few paces away from Kael.

  Dean stalled and didn’t pull her into the dance.

  “Yes. I’m fine.” She couldn’t bring the simper back. It hadn’t worked the first time.

  “You seem out of sorts. Do you need me to get you a drink?”

  Cyrene took a moment to let her eyes wander the large ballroom. She got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when she realized that she didn’t see anyone she knew. Avoca, Ahlvie, Ceis’f, Maelia, and Orden were gone. Did something happen to them, or did I miss a signal to leave?

  The gardens were the alternative exit plan for the group. Maybe that was the best option.

  “Actually. I think I need some fresh air.”

  “Allow me to escort you,” he said, offering his arm.

  She took it thankfully and left the ballroom with him. As she left, she glanced over her shoulder, but Kael had already melded into the crowd. She didn’t believe that he would be gone for long though.

  The night air did little to relieve the tension in Cyrene’s shoulders. Her friends were missing, and Kael knew that she was here.

  Why did he let me go? Did he think that I wouldn’t actually leave the premises? Did he detain my friends, knowing that I would come after them?

  A million scenarios ran through her head, and she jumped when Dean placed his hand on her shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts.

  “My apologies,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s not your fault. I can’t seem to find the friends I came with.”

  “I’m sure they are simply enjoying the festivities.”

  “Maybe.” She doubted it.

  “Would it make you feel better if we went to look for them?”

  “I think I should probably continue alone. I did not intend to detain you,” Cyrene told him. It was as nice a dismissal as she could manage.

  Dean stared at her for a minute. “You remind me of someone.”

  Oh no.

  “Who?”

  “A woman I met once in the forest.”

  “I…” she said faintly.

  “It is you, isn’t it, Haenah?” Dean asked. “I’ve been looking all over the city, and you were here in the castle all along. Did you come with the Prince? Were you hiding your identity, as I was?”

  He sounded so hopeful that she was the woman he had met in the woods. Time seemed to slow as she stared up into the depths of his dark eyes. She actually wanted to tell him who she was.

  “I don’t know who this Haenah is, but…”

  Dean confidently took her hand in his. “Do you know how many women I have met who have spoken freely to me? Do you know how many women I have met who not only share my interests but are not afraid to stand up to me when I challenge them?”

  “Perhaps more would do so if they did not know you were the Prince,” she whispered.

  He laughed. “Perhaps they would. Yet, here you are, doing it, knowing that I am the Prince.”

  Well, he had her there.

  “So, tell me how a woman from Byern, traveling through Aurum, makes it to the grand ball without being in the First Class, as you said you were not. Better yet, try to tell me that it’s a coincidence that you are here at the same time as Prince Kael.”

  Cyrene broke away from him. “I…I can’t.”

  “Are you with him?”

  “No,” she said flatly. Then, she tugged on the string and removed the mask that had been a feeble line of defense against Kael Dremylon. “I am not what you think I am.”

  His hand traced her face, and she closed her eyes at his touch. It was as if he could see her for who she truly was and not the make-up that Avoca had used on her face.

  “I think you are the most spectacular woman I’ve ever met.”

  “There’s so much you don’t know.”

  “You are the missing girl,” he whispered intuitively.

  Her mouth opened in shock.

  “The one who was kidnapped. They’ve been scouring the countryside for you.”

  “How could you know that?”

  He smiled. “Because I would stop at nothing less to see you again.”

  His eyes darted to her lips and then back up. She could see what he was thinking, and she couldn’t help but to mirror his actions. She stood frozen. Her mind told her body to move, but her heart disobeyed the command.

  The last time she had kissed someone, it had been Edric, and a jolt of energy unlike anything she’d ever felt had tethered her to him. Yet the desire coursing through her at this moment was completely unlike that. How could I want this from a total stranger?

  His hand found her waist, and she took a step toward him rather than away. She thought he was about to make a move when a gut-wrenching feeling plummeted through her center. She doubled over and gasped for air.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Dean asked as she coughed helplessly before him.

  Avoca.

  Dread filled Cyrene. She would never recklessly grasp for her powers like this. There had to be a reason.

  “They’re in trouble,” she managed to get out.

  “Who?” He reached out to steady her.

  Cyrene shushed him but used him as leverage as she closed her eyes and reached for her own powers. She needed to let Avoca know that she was coming for her. Give her some hope that Cyrene would answer and help.

  As soon as she touched the sparking center at her middle, a deadly heartbeat filled her eardrums. She squeezed her eyes against the onslaught, and her abilities flowed into her like a rive
r emptying into the ocean.

  Everything was magnified a thousandfold. She could feel the individual threads in Dean’s shirt clutched in her fist, the light breeze touching her skin, and his faint breaths beside her.

  Above all, that was the heartbeat. Yet it was wrong. Not like the deer at all.

  She could sense Dean’s heartbeat when she listened for it, but this was otherworldly. It called to her and repulsed her without her having any knowledge of what it was.

  Then, she felt it reach out to touch her mind. It was just the faintest brush that, if she had not had her powers to guide her, she would never have felt it. But she had felt that touch before, and she would never again let that happen to her.

  Without a second thought, she slammed a mental wall between that and the thing that was trying to reach her. Braj.

  The heartbeat remained…and it was getting closer. Too close.

  “No,” she cried, straightening.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Give me your weapon.”

  “My sword?” he asked. His brows furrowed.

  “Now!” she cried. Then, she yanked it out of its ornamental sheath before he could object.

  She whirled with the sword in hand. It was massive and made for the man behind her, who was much larger and stronger than her. But her powers surged up out of her and flooded the instrument in her hand, lightening and strengthening the steel.

  The Braj came out of the shadows at that exact moment.

  “Move. Get out of here!” she yelled at Dean.

  “I’m not leaving you here!”

  She rushed toward the Braj with more determination with the use of her powers than she had felt the last time she killed the Indres. She knew nothing of swordplay, but she let the instrument guide her, let her powers flow freely.

  The beast came at her with ease, perilously swinging his poison-laden blade.

  Cyrene twisted away from the curved sword. She had known its danger and had been lucky to have survived. She wouldn’t give the thing that advantage this time. She felt the irregular heartbeat of the Braj and then used the sword as an instrument to push the magic toward him.

  She deflected his blow and drove the sword home. A pulse shuddered through its body, and then it tumbled to the ground. She was forced off her feet as the weight of the Braj took her down with the sword still in her hand.