Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

5. Bleeding Purple

Chapter 5

Bleeding Purple

THALIA

My legs scraped against gravel as Gayle hauled me to the guest chambers, my arms and legs frantically pushing away from him despite the pain.

His muscles tensed as he tossed me onto the porch, my body rolling to a stop as it collided with a metal chair.

A wheeze left my lips at the impact, my arms cradling my injured side. My shirt stuck to the sticky, hot flesh of my back as the wounds reopened and festered.

“I told you to bring her to me unharmed,” the Lord wheezed, his plum face expanding. “What’s wrong with her back?”

“She resisted,” Gayle said, a menacing gleam etched onto his face. “Lashings are the least a half-breed deserves.”

I curled around the metallic chair as blood pooled around me, nausea growing in the pit of my stomach. The early morning rays hit my back as they heated the hot wounds.

“You,” the plump Noble Fae snapped to his right as if he were fetching a dog. “Wrap her back in bandages and toss her in the carriage. We are leaving now.”

Soft arms cradled me as they ripped the tunic from my chest, exposing the heap of Gayle’s perfection. The woman gagged at the smell, but she did not complain as she poured tonic over the wounds.

It fizzled as it touched the welts.

A scream left my lips as it seeped into the damaged flesh, the stinging blinding as she wrapped fresh bandages around mangled strips of skin.

The pressure helped slightly, but the damage took its toll as the woman brushed sweat from my brow. “She’s fever,” she said in a broken tongue. “Meds,” she whispered as she lifted another bottle to my lips.

I choked on the bitter liquid as she poured it into my mouth. It tasted like begonias, a hint of citrus clinging to my parched tongue.

“It’s a short ride to Bayley. Put her in the carriage,” he hissed, his stomach bouncing as he waved his staff toward it.

“As for my payment?” Gayle inquired.

The Lord huffed as he rummaged through his pockets until he pulled out a single brown bag. It rattled as he plopped it into Gayle’s hand. “For the marks on her back, you’ll receive half our agreed upon payment.” His eyes hardened. “And you swear he does not know his prized possession is being transferred?”

Gayle frowned as he opened the pouch full of gold coins. His finger drew one out, inspecting the shine before answering. “Not a clue, Lord Haville.” His thumb jerked to me. “Tell me, what’s all of this for anyway? Why her?”

“I collect unique items—rare gems to pleasure me. Someone gave me a tip that such a gem resided underneath Armas. A half-breed possessing casting.” Lord Haville’s eyes brimmed with light. “He also mentioned she was ravishing—her spirit dipped in darkness and fire.”

Gayle stuffed the pouch into his pocket. “Was this a guard?”

Lord Haville shrugged, the movement stunted by the weight clinging to his arms. “You don’t ask questions when gifted information. That’s how you end up dead.” His hand raised as he flicked his wrist. “Leave. I wish to avoid drawing any further attention during our departure.”

Gayle dipped into a low bow. “As you wish,” he replied. “I will make sure to follow the rest of your plan per our agreement.” His eyes swiveled to me, a festering grin stealing the human-like qualities from his face. “Goodbye, Thalia. You were always a pleasure,” he mocked. “I think Moria will benefit from your absence. I’m sure she’ll be quite lonely in that cell without you.”

I opened my mouth, but another wave of pain crashed through me as two guards lifted me.

“Let’s go,” Lord Haville said before Gayle strolled toward the prison.

A groan escaped my mouth as the guards placed me inside the carriage, velvet touching hot skin.

Lord Haville shimmed inside, his staff resting beside him as he eyed me from head to toe. “You look awful.” His nose wrinkled as he assessed my wounds, the bandage doing little to cover the mess Gayle had inflicted.

The carriage rolled into motion, the road bumpy as my head lulled to the side. My fingers brushed the carriage floor dusted in bits of champagne and purple.

Gods, I hated the purple strewn into the fabric, because it was the color of Armas—the color that had taken everything from me. It made me want to vomit upon the stainless flooring.

A cool hand touched my cheek as his thumb brushed back beads of sweat. “The tonic she poured into your mouth will make you sleepy,” Lord Haville whispered. “Best to not fight it.”

“I… I hate—you,” I mumbled into the velvet seats, my eyelids drooping from the tonic. My lips were numbing, drool threatening to spill from my parted mouth.

“Good. It’s why you fascinate me,” he drawled. “We are going to have so much fun together.”

“Never.” I breathed as I blinked back the ebb of sleep. “I cu—curse you.” Each word took an absorbent amount of concentration.

Lord Haville chuckled as he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “You may try spewing a curse, but for your kind, it will only fester like mud until the rain eventually washes it away.”

“I won’t… stop fighting,” I bit out as the tonic closed my throat.

“Oh, I hope you don’t.”

Lord Haville continued his speech as my eyes drifted to his staff, hoping focusing on one item would keep me awake. My freedom depended on it.

A loud thud shuddered through the carriage as it rolled to a complete stop.

His face swelled to a lovely shade matching the fabric walls as he spewed curses. “Incompetent fools. Move!” he bellowed as he banged his staff against the plush cloth.

The carriage did not budge.

His beady eyes widened as he shoved his staff to the side. “What is this nonsense?”

Another thud sounded on the roof, the upholstered fabric swaying along the windows.

Lord Haville stirred in his seat as he reached for the handle, curses flowing from his lips. His brows furrowed as he shoved the door open. “How dare you?—”

Lord Haville said nothing more.

His back stiffened as a wet cough escaped from his swollen lips. His body smacked into the floor, blood covering the purple detailing as it oozed from the stab wound directly through the heart.

Lord Haville was dead.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out as the tonic seeped deeper into my bones. I had to stay awake. I had to fight it.

The door lazily swung with the breeze as screams filled the surrounding carriage. No one stood outside the door as if a ghost had struck the sword through him and disappeared instantly.

I grunted, but my arms and legs did not listen. They refused to move, the tonic overpowering my senses as I stared out into the trees. If I couldn’t move, death would find me. My fingers twitched as I yelled at my muscles, but again and again, nothing happened. The tonic’s potency thrummed in my blood.

The screaming stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving me alone with Lord Haville’s dead body.

If I managed to keep my mind active, I could escape once the medicine wore off into the forest and figure out a plan to rescue Moria.

Sleep ebbed deeply into the corners of my mind, its claws wrenching me further back.

If I fell?—

A man dressed entirely in solid black appeared in the door frame. A cloth mask covered his face except for his gray eyes that peered into the carriage like silver flames.

My eyelids fluttered as he entered, his leather-gloved hands carefully avoiding the bandaged portions as he readjusted me on the velvet cushions.

Faelight glimmered in the carriage, but stopped short as his blades swallowed the remaining rays. Twin sheaths rested across his back in a crisscross fashion as he hauled the dead body out with ease .

The man retrieved his blade, wiping it along the grass before returning it next to the other. Staring into the carriage, his eyes met mine. “Sleep,” he muttered, his voice warbled by the mask.

The door shut once again, trapping in a pungent smell of burning wood.

Sleep , a voice echoed in my head.

Whether the tonic or that soothing voice lulled me to sleep, I succumbed to its effects as the carriage rolled into motion.