Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

15. Old Bonds

Chapter 15

Old Bonds

THALIA

“You sure someone lives here?”

The shutters hung loosely from the windows as they creaked in the midnight breeze. Red paint cracked along the house, revealing the crumbling wood beneath. Cobwebs hung from every corner as we stood among littered bags of leftover trash.

A deserted mess as I flung pieces of sticky web from my fingers and shoulders. A shiver crawled down my spine as I wondered if a spider or two had taken residence on me. The house sent me into a panic, one I did not want to admit to Ivan as I stood beside him on the creaking porch.

Ivan kicked aside a few pieces of broken wood as he strode to the front door. A thin layer of dust coated the doorknob as he gripped it, rattling it.

“Shouldn’t you at least knock?”

“He’s never locked it.” He twisted and yanked on the metal knob, but the door did not budge.

“I think?—”

Ivan banged on the door. Hard .

Kicking aside a beaten-up pot, I watched it tumble over the edge as I stuffed my hands into my back pockets.

Ivan pounded on the door again, the tips of his ears tinged red. It was the first time I’d seen him angry.

“It’s gotta be abandoned. This place gives me the creeps.” It was the spiders. There had to be spiders.

“It’s not abandoned.”

“You’re delusional.” My foot scraped against the wood. “Isn’t there an inn nearby we can stay at?”

“Too risky,” he replied as he knocked again. “Someone might?—”

The door groaned, wrestling against the rusted hinges as a pair of brown eyes shone in the crack. “Leave me the hells alone,” a muffled voice said.

Ivan placed his hand on the door. “I wouldn’t be here if I had anywhere else to go.”

It shook once as the door creaked shut.

Ivan shoved his boot between the door and the broken frame, halting its path. “I have food… and company.” He shuffled to the side.

The door groaned as it sang against the hinges, those brown eyes meeting mine.

Taller than Ivan by at least another foot, his lean body conveyed hidden strength. A scar crossed his lips, and his black hair rested at his shoulders, half atop his head in a tight bun. His upturned eyes swiveled back to Ivan. “Go rest at the inn,” he said as his thumb and forefinger rested on the bridge of his nose. His accent danced through each word as he mumbled phrases in a different tongue under his breath.

He must have been from Astoria, the northern lyricism heavy as he spoke.

“One night, Fin. We’ll be out tomorrow.”

Fin crossed his arms over his chest.

“One night,” Ivan pleaded.

It was the first time I’d seen the man grovel at anyone other than himself.

“Fine.” His arms flung in the air. “One night, but you better be gone by first light.”

“With pleasure,” Ivan said as he motioned for me to follow him into the house held by three rusted studs.

The dust was not better inside as I crossed through the threshold. It tickled my nose and throat as I walked into the foyer.

Ivan coughed once before plopping onto the couch. A cloud billowed from underneath him. “Do you ever clean?”

Fin sat in the armchair across from the muted-gray couch. “It’s not like I ever have company.”

My frame sunk into the plush cushion as I inched closer to the couch’s crevices. I could only imagine the potential spiders hiding inside it. My skin crawled as I tried to scratch the feeling away.

“What are you doing here?” Fin asked. “And with company, might I add?”

“Resting.” His arms folded behind his head. “Something I’m sure you’re not familiar with.”

Fin scoffed as his body leaned forward in the chair. “I’m sure you’re not familiar with it either.” His lips curled into a smirk. “You were always too busy drowning yourself in ale and women.” His gaze raked over me. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken,” I muttered, picking at the unraveling threads.

“Watch it,” Ivan snarled.

Fin grinned. “What? Too sore of a subject for you?”

“If you say one more word out of line?—”

“You’ll what? Abandon me like you did on that battlefield all those years ago?”

Ivan froze on the couch. “Take it back.” His eyes blazed pure fire.

“You can’t take back what the land already claimed. All those deaths were for nothing.”

The room grew eerily silent as Ivan leaned forward, his hands dropping to his sides.

He could have cleaved the world in half at the raw anger he spewed from his lips as he spoke, “You left them on the battlefield. You’re the coward who abandoned all those men and women. You watched them paint the land in red as you hiked the mountainside. Do their screams not haunt you at night?” Ivan spat. “What of Mersa and Dion? Did you enjoy their screams as you ran toward the mountain?”

“Shut up!” Lifting a finger, he pointed it at me. “Does your new companion know who she’s dealing with? Who your father is?” he corrected. “Does she at least know—” But Fin’s mouth shut quickly as if someone had clamped it shut.

Fin rose from his chair. “I change my mind. Get out.”

Ivan stood an inch from him. “Afraid to face your mistakes?”

“If I recall, you were too busy whoring yourself away.” His eyes flicked to me. “I guess old habits are hard to quit.”

“She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, but she does.” Fin turned to me, his voice a bit softer than before. “You should be careful following the words of a bastard’s son.”

“At least my words are true. A coward’s words mean nothing.”

Fin laughed, low and hollow. “Sure, Ivan .”

“Enough!” I pressed a hand against my temple as I tried to subdue the utter roaring in my head. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”

The room fell silent as both pairs of eyes floated to me.

“I’m going to the inn. ”

Ivan froze. “Half-breed?—”

“No. Clearly, both of you have years of trauma needing to be sorted out… alone. Do not follow me.”

Fin’s lips rose in a sly smile. “Good. He will only bring bad news.”

I ignored his remark as I stormed out, the hinges creaking before the door slammed shut.

“Ma’am, as I said, you have to pay to get a room,” the attendant stated. “Kindly leave, or I’ll have to remove you.”

Slapping my hands on the counter next to a pot of ink, I glared at him. “Look, please give me a room for tonight. I’ll clean it myself before I leave and even do work around here.”

The attendant’s eyes narrowed as he pushed the too-tiny glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Get out of my inn.”

“And go where? It’s the middle of the night! There’s nowhere for me to go,” I pleaded. “Look, I’ll take a couch. Anything.”

The attendant waved his hand in the air. “Check the stables,” he said before diving into the books on his desk.

He utterly ignored my presence as his pen scratched the parchment paper. Each scrape of the pen heightened my anger as his bony fingers held the edges of the page?—

My hand drifted toward the ink pot as I bumped the bottle. Ink coated his accounting books and fingers in a wave of black.

“Whoops. My mistake.”

The accountant cursed as he furiously wiped the excess ink from his fingers. I couldn’t hide my smile as I exited the building into the humid air. It didn’t last long as I surveyed the emptied streets. I had no place to rest as my bones ached with each step to the fountain.

I desperately needed sleep as I stumbled toward the wooden benches around it. One would have to work as a bed.

Rubbing my arms, I yawned as moonlight cascaded over the sleeping town. It would have been beautiful if I cared, but exhaustion consumed me. My legs sighed as I crashed onto the unsteady bench, my body molding to the wooden frame bent in the middle.

Something hard poked my side as I shuffled to remove the unwelcoming feeling. Shoving my hand into my pocket, my fingers ran over the gemstone. The gemstone?—

My fingers pulled out the blood stone I’d stolen from the witch as I examined it in the moonlight. It reflected hues of green and black. A peculiar combination for such a rare gem.

Turning it over in my hand, it glimmered as if it collected the starlight from above. It was drawn to me, and I to it as if it wished to call into my heart— Ah, darkling, I am home .

Rumors of blood stones were common among the Fae. Some said it increased the ability to wield casting while others said it showed you your everlasting bond. Siorai—your twin flame carved from the same stone.

It seemed… alive. Possessive as dark whispers echoed around me.

Shoving the gemstone into my pocket, the whispers silenced as if I’d imagined the entire thing. That was something for another night.

Alone, I finally had time to process everything. From my kidnapping to living with Gwen—to arriving in Arilyn where I rested now on a bench in the middle of gods-knows-where.

I ran a hand over my face as I groaned. I knew it had been a mistake to follow Ivan. Gwen severely misjudged her son and his current antics .

The slapping of hooves against stone tore my gaze from the bejeweled sky. The bench creaked as I stared at the lone rider, an exasperated sigh flowing from my lips. Not even here, on a bench, was far enough away to prevent him from finding me.

He slipped from the horse, a pack attached to the black creature. Stopping a few stones in front, he rummaged in the bag before taking out a food parcel. “That’s twice you’ve run off now. If I would have known what a chore it would be to keep you contained, I might have chained you to me.”

“At least this one I did myself,” I muttered as I snatched the item from his fingers. “And you wouldn’t even last a second if you were chained to me.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as my eyes drifted to the parcel. I could smell the tang of jam as my mouth watered from the familiar scent. My fingers frantically unwrapped it like a Mabon present as I shoved the sandwich into my mouth.

Those silver eyes assessed me from the bench as he leaned against the horse.

“What?” I muttered, bits of jam sticking to the roof of my mouth.

“Nothing.”

“Right, nothing,” I repeated. “You know what’s not nothing?” My finger gestured toward the hill. “What happened there? You said we were staying with an acquaintance.”

“We are.”

My eyes met his.

“He is—was. It’s complicated.”

“Clearly.”

Ivan patted the horse. “He wasn’t always like this. We weren’t always like this,” he corrected. “Believe it or not, we were close.”

“Close? That didn’t look close.”

The gold etchings of his fighting leathers shimmered under the pale moonlight. “People reveal their nature under dire circumstances.”

I scoffed, loud enough he turned back to me.

“What?”

“People reveal their nature under dire circumstances,” I repeated. “It’s ironic, isn’t it?” I pointed a finger between him and me. “We’re in a dire situation and you’ve revealed nothing to me.”

He was quiet, quiet enough I assumed he’d walked into the distance without me, but the sound of boots clicking alerted me he was far closer than I had thought.

“May I?” A hand pointed to the empty section on the bench.

Without a word, I scooted over to the edge as he plopped down beside me, the bench creaking slightly as it warped further. A hint of rosewood curled around my nose.

“What do you want to know?”

My head turned to his. “What do I want to know?”

He nodded.

“Well, why are you such an ass?”

He huffed a laugh. “That’s the first question you ask?”

“Sounded like an acceptable opener.”

“Gods.” A smile lit his face; the first genuine one since Gwen’s. He rested his arm on the back of the bench. “If you have nothing then?—”

“No!” It left my lips faster than I’d like. “What I mean—” What did I mean? There were so many questions, years of history I was missing— “The Houses,” I blurted.

“The Houses?”

My fingers drummed across my cheeks. “Are the Four Houses still active?” The Four Houses created after the War of Old—a tale my mother wove often.

“More than I’d like to admit.”

“And what of House Armas? Do all Four of them still have the same amount of casting?”

“To a degree. The Houses work together to fuel King Hywell’s power. To funnel this war against the rebels, but I wouldn’t say they are particularly thrilled about it. I think they know he is planning to become King of Cethales.”

“Why doesn’t House Raha use their army or their power casting against him if they suspect it? Are they not the strongest House anymore?” Had that much changed since my time in the prison? Was casting no longer limited to the High Fae in the Four Houses?

“The General of Raha is, if not more, corrupt than the King himself. He’s gaining credibility, power, and astronomical amounts of wealth. Why would he not work with him to protect his homeland and pride as a caster?”

A gust of wind blew through the square, a few droplets of water landing against my skin.

“What about House Laias and House Krones?”

Ivan blew out a breath. “Krones is destroyed and under control of Armas. Their queen is missing, and the seers are in shambles. Future casting is all but nonexistent.”

“And Laias?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“Laias is standing… for now until we arrive to help the King and Queen’s family. Their daughter, Asa, inherited their healing casting. The last three to possess it.”

So much had changed since my time in the prison and he was right. King Hywell was on his way to becoming King of all—erasing the structure of the Four Houses institutionalized by the War of Old.

“So… there really are no other casters besides the High Fae in the Houses, the descendants of the original kings,” I said, still contemplating the amount of history he’d stuffed into my head.

It was still true. No one else possessed casting except for the High Fae, and their children ruling the Four Houses, their bloodlines running strong.

“Except for you, someone neither born into royalty or killing a god.” He trailed off, his voice growing thick. “You really don’t know anything about your heritage… or how your casting abilities came to be?”

I shook my head, the moon illuminating the space between us. “No. I was born with this… ability. My parents aren’t Nobles and not the murdering type. My father barely managed to kill a pig once and my mother… my mother worshiped the old gods. She’d never harm one so I didn’t inherit this power by blood right either.” Not like any gods were spotted since the War of Old, anyway.

He scratched the bit of stubble on his chin. “There’s no use dwelling on it, then.”

“That’s it? You don’t know anything else?”

“You’re weird. Isn’t that enough?”

My mouth hung slightly open, a bit of fountain spray tickling my tongue. “And you’re an asshole.”

He smirked, but said nothing else as we sat on the bench.

The air stilling, it wasn’t until I asked the question haunting me the world seemed to stir once more. “You said Laias is standing for now. What are we going over there for? Why… why are you fighting against these rebels?” Maybe it was more than one question, but I needed to know.

To my surprise, he spoke.

“For it to make sense, we might have to start at the beginning,” he stated. “You remember the War of Old?”

“Of course. I did attend school, even if was for a few years,” I said with a bit of spite. I wasn’t that dumb.

Ignoring the threads of anger, he continued. “The rebels despise the War of Old. An independent group, they want nothing more than the downfall of the Four Houses and anyone who is associated with them. They wish to return Cethales to a time before the War. A time where the land was rich with magic and the Fae were immortal.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

The lines across his face bunched tightly before they dissipated, vanishing to nothing. “It’s the way they are doing it. Their leader is bloodthirsty and willing to sacrifice anyone for their goals, even innocent bystanders. Their leader wants power to rule Cethales for themselves while getting rid of anyone who goes against their methods.”

“Isn’t that war? Sacrifices are to be expected, especially if it’s as serious as changing who is in power.”

“Wars can be won without sacrifice.”

“You’re living in a fantasy. Reality is cruel. War cannot exist without sacrifice.” My nails clicked against the bench. “And what of me? What part do I play in this?”

His lips parted. “You’re collateral.”

“Collateral?”

A grimace crossed his face. “King Hywell isn’t the only one searching for you.”

I blinked, light slowly filtering throughout me as I understood his words. “The rebels want me too?”

He gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

“Great!” My arms crossed over my chest. “Is that all I’m useful for? A weapon?”

“Beats the turnovers you tried to make with Gwen.”

“Not the time,” I grumbled, but a small smile tugged at my lips. Gwen. I hoped she was doing well. Clearing my throat, I spoke, “Then… how am I useful to you?”

He revealed a letter from inside his vest, the edges browned and crumpled. “It’s a letter from Laias asking for aid. The rebels are planning to attack the city. To get rid of the first House.” He paused as he shoved the letter back under his vest.

“They want to get rid of the first House?”

“The House of Laias stores the knowledge of Cethales. If it were to be destroyed or taken, it would be a devastating blow to the kingdom. It would also give the rebels more power than they already have by wiping out the only place with trained medics.”

“I’m not following,” I said. “How does this involve me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, muscles tensing as my eyes trailed the sharp cheekbones of his face.

“If you happened to be at Laias, the one person they are searching for, they might call off the destruction of the city.”

My eyes widened. “You want me to be bait?”

“It’s crazy, but I’m out of options. If the rebels succeed, Cethales will be in equally dreadful hands if they destroy Laias. I’m not asking you to fight or anything. All I need from you is to be there—to announce your casting.”

His eyes bore into mine, silver fire alight. “That’s why I asked for your help,” he continued. “I’m sure you also want answers as to why the King wants you… wants your casting. I can’t guarantee the answer, but Laias also has an extensive library filled with books centuries old. We have our deal, and I will abide by it, but what lay in those catacombs might have the answers you are seeking, too.”

Answers? Did such a book exist? Was there a reason I was granted these powers at birth?

Am I really not?—

You are a curse and you will be our ruin.

Maybe… maybe I wasn’t a curse. Maybe I did have a purpose outside of those who proposed their will on me. I needed those answers. Answers I didn’t realize I’d been searching for my entire life. Would it heal the wounds their deaths tore in my heart?

Silence grew, loud and distant before I answered back, a bit of life embracing each syllable spoken. “Okay.”

His brow rose. “Okay?”

Standing, I held out my hand. “I’ll be the bait as long as I get to research on the side until we leave to get Moria.”

He hesitated, but grabbed my outstretched hand. It was unusually warm as he shook it, a bit of ice left in my palm as he removed it.

Stuffing my hand into my pocket, I glanced at the hill. “This doesn’t mean we are friends. It simply means I’m willing to come with you to find answers.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on mine. “For helping me.”

Those were two words I hadn’t heard since my father’s passing. Something stirred in my chest as he looked at me, the moon illuminating the softness of his face.

As the night air swallowed the conversation, my mind reeled with new revelations as I flicked my gaze to the hill.

Rebels. Laias. Potential war.

These were all things my father had not prepared me for, but maybe my mother hadn’t been crazy after all—maybe those years she’d chained me as she shoved conspiracy into my head would be the key to unlocking my casting.