Page 21 of A Bond in Blood (Blood Bound Duet #1)

Chapter 21

S ix months.

One hundred and sixty-eight days.

I was almost half-way through my service. Impossible when I considered the fact. Almost as impossible as my father having not replied to a single letter I’d sent him since my arrangement with Ulrich.

My hands trembled at the desk in the library while I wrote out my hate-filled words. Accusing my own blood of not caring. Begging him to come for me.

My tears hit the ink, making it run down the page and I did not care. I wanted him to see the pain he put my heart through. I wanted him to understand his daughter’s growing hatred for his cowardice.

My lips were shaking, my chest heaving when I laid my quill down. The tears blinded my vision, and I jumped when rough fur brushed against the tips of my fingers.

“Princess,” Olen’s beast voice was soft, softer than I had yet to hear it. “Are you well?”

I wiped my eyes, crying out from the sting of ink. “Fuck!” I cried, picking up the skirt of my dress and dabbing away the pain.

When I’d done my best, I found Olen’s black eyes staring at me with his brow crumpled.

“I’m writing to my father. ” I choked on the word.

“That’s quite a lot of tears,” Olen said softly.

I pushed him away. “Please leave me be.”

Olen shook his head. “It’s dinner time.”

I threw my head back with frustration. Somehow forgetting my nightly routine with Ulrich. An uncomfortable dinner of silence.

“I can’t,” I admitted, holding my hand to my chest. “I need to rest.”

Olen shook his head. “You made an arrangement with him. He won’t allow that to be broken.”

My eyes went out across the library and the new seating that had been placed in the room in recent weeks.

“I don’t want to eat in a suffocating room, Olen.”

Olen nodded his head and then turned away.

“Go change, princess.”

I stood in the circular room, twisting my hands nervously. Unsure of which pathway to take. I’d only received a note when I’d exited the bathing room. It was placed on top of a long-sleeved sparkling black gown that was not my own.

The clock .

I’d known what it meant instantly, having spent every day for the last month with Ulrich in that room. With him pointing out the hallways.

So far we’d come from hallway six, the kitchens. Gone down hallway twelve, the beach. Also, hallway seven, leading right out to the city. Many times, we went down three, the bedroom hallway. And lastly, hallway two, leading up to the main hall where the front entrance to the palace resided.

I stood in the silent room, waiting for Olen or Ulrich to approach. Unsure of what to expect when a familiar rattling of an ear full of golden earrings came down a hallway.

I turned from where I was staring at twelve, finding Olen leaning against the doorframe of four.

“This way,” he said, motioning.

I picked up the heavy gown. My fingers rubbed the velvet fabric together, grateful for the warmth with the temperatures that continued to drop with the winter.

Olen was silent while I followed him, realizing we were walking at an incline in a perfectly spiraled walkway.

The candles lit the way and the higher we climbed, the colder it became.

I was close to cursing myself for not bringing my cloak when Olen stopped and pointed to a wall beside him. I turned my head, finding cloaks hanging on hooks and fur-lined hand covers on a shelf beside them.

“What is this?” I asked, wrapping the cloak around me and placing the hood on my head.

Olen was silent while he did the same. Irritating me instantly.

He turned, continuing our trek upward. My hands wrung against each other in the cover while I bit back my questions.

My feet ached and I was close to curses once more when Olen stopped again, shoving open a towering stone door.

“Enjoy dinner, princess.” He grinned with a maniacal glimmer in his eyes as his hands connected with my shoulders and he pushed me out the door, slamming it loudly behind me.

I pulled one hand out of the warmth of the fur, turning on my heel while my fists hit the barrier, sure he had just tricked me when a voice cleared behind me.

I twisted back and gasped, dropping my cover into the brilliant snow on the ground.

It was hard to take it all in. The light from the stars, illuminating the cobbled path lined with snow. The table a distance away with candles lit. The fire behind it, roaring and so full of heat I could feel its call from where I stood.

But most shocking of it all was the king standing before the table with a fur-lined cloak over his shoulder.

“I—”

I was speechless. I was terrified.

I was absolutely enamored.

And I was livid.

My shocked yell echoed around us, moving with the wind that had caught it when Ulrich suddenly dipped his head.

A royal acknowledgement of who I was.

I stepped back, my hands searching for the handle of the door I’d been shoved through.

“Brenna,” Ulrich said softly.

“No.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I am not doing this.”

Ulrich approached and I picked up my backward retreat. “No.” I cried. “No.”

We will eat under the stars, my Enaid. Just the two of us. Allowing the Gods to wash us with their approval of our love.

Leif’s words, even if they had been feigned, ran through my mind. The letter that had meant the most out of all that he’d sent me. The one when he’d asked me for my hand. When he’d proclaimed his intention for only my eyes to see.

My back hit the stone door while my tears fell, but I could not find a handle and the monster before me continued his approach.

I glanced at the ground, finding the cover, and I threw with all my might. It hit him in the face as I intended, and my scream made even my own ears ring.

“I hate you!” I sobbed while I sank to the ground, using the door to guide me. “I hate you!”

Ulrich threw the cover at my feet, forcing my eyes to meet his.

“It’s only dinner,” he replied.

“You knew . You knew what he wrote. You guided it all. You are mocking me.”

My tears grew cold on my cheeks while my cries continued.

“I can’t—” My chest tightened and my eyes widened. My heart pulsed quickly, and I was sure I was going to die.

Panicked, I slammed my hands against the cold ground. I couldn’t catch the breath my lungs desperately needed. I couldn’t clear my mind from the overwhelming thoughts and hate taking control.

Ulrich was before me, grasping my face tightly.

I met his eyes, finding his mouth moving but I couldn’t hear a word. I could only hear the blood in my veins, pulsing frantically inside of me. About to explode from the pressure in my chest.

My tears fell faster, and I turned my head out of Ulrich’s touch, wanting the demon’s hands to remove his hold on my skin. But I didn’t have the strength, and my vision blurred while my hands continued to hit the earth in a panic.

I was going to die. Yes, I was sure I was going to die from the inability to find the air my lungs were searching for. I stared at Ulrich, tears running down my cheeks while my panic grew.

Then he slapped me—right across the face.

I gasped from the shock as air barreled down my throat. My vision cleared, and the ringing ceased in my ears.

“Breathe!” Ulrich was shouting, shaking my shoulders.

I shoved him away then leaned my head against the door. “Keep your hands off me.”

He stood, brushing the snow from his pants. “I will not have tantrums,” he said coldly.

I glared at him. “You are mocking me.”

“Get off the ground, Brenna.”

“No.”

His body crouched and he met my eyes. “Do as I say.”

“No,” I repeated.

“Fine. Starve for all I care.”

His cloak whipped me in the face when he turned on his heel and sauntered to the table.

My back pressed further into the door behind me while I begged it to give way and allow me back to the palace.

Ulrich pulled out his chair, flipping his coat in a show of triumph behind him while he sat, picking up a cup steaming in the cold air.

“This fire feels fantastic,” he yelled over the wind, sipping from his silver mug.

I scowled and picked up my cover, placing my hands into it for warmth.

Ulrich set his drink down and opened the tray before him. I could not see the meal but the steam blocked his masked face and the smell—it instantly hit my nose.

“Gods dammit,” I muttered, knocking my head back against the door.

To my surprise, it sprang open, and Olen’s head popped out. “Just go eat, princess,” he laughed.

I scrambled to my feet, trying to get my body through the threshold but Olen slammed it back in my face. Almost hitting my nose in the process.

I screamed, throwing the cover back onto the ground. I turned on my heel, heading right for my target.

My finger was raised, shaking in his direction while I readied my words of war. When I arrived right before him he smiled at me, unphased and emotionless.

“Hungry?” he asked, pointing to the covered plate on the other end of the table.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“You really enjoy repeating that,” he sighed and picked up his cup. “It’s as though you believe I don’t know this fact.”

“I wouldn’t want you to ever forget it in your old age, your grace,” I replied.

He snorted and his dark drink splattered over his plate.

Relishing in my victory, I turned on my heel and placed myself in the chair across from him. Crossing my legs while I sipped from my own mug. Finding a delicious, mulled wine with slices of citrus floating on the top.

Ulrich patted the surface before him with a napkin and shook his head.

“About that court jester.”

“I have a knife,” I interrupted.

His hand stopped and he glanced up. “I have a pulse.” He cocked his head, pointing to his neck. “Want to give it a try? You did fail last time.”

I continued sipping on my drink, allowing the wine to warm the inside of my body while the fire warmed the outside.

I hated how beautiful this place was, with the bright stars glittering above us and the red moon muted on the other side of the sky.

Ulrich’s utensils scraped across his plate, but I did not lift my tray. Instead, I finished my wine and reached for the silver flute in the middle of the table. He grinned at me while I leaned back, continuing to watch as he ate his meal.

“How’s your drink?” he asked, slowly placing his fork on his tongue.

“I wish it were faerie wine,” I grumbled.

His hand thumped the table, startling me. “That is poison .”

“It’s a drink,” I countered with a scowl.

“It alters every one of your senses. Leaving you defenseless and at the whim of others.”

“Personal experience?” I asked with a laugh, not expecting the snarl that ripped from his throat.

“I suggest you hold your tongue, Brenna.”

I blinked and set my cup down. “How is faerie wine any worse than this?” I lifted my drink again. “Give me a few more glasses, and I am just as likely to remove my dress and roll in the snow nude.”

Ulrich’s grin was mocking and hungry.

I hated it.

“I could certainly call for more if you feel so inclined to give me that show,” he taunted.

I shoved away from the table, wrapping my hands around the mug, attempting to heat my cold fingers. As I approached the fire, I allowed its warmth to work while I gazed at the stars once more.

They sparkled, magically and so much brighter than I had seen them before.

“They are magnificent,” Ulrich said beside me.

I chose to ignore his successful, silent approach.

“Some say the Gods themselves shape the stars and planets above. I say it’s Fate.”

“There is no such thing as fate,” I replied.

“Fate controls all, Brenna. Even me.”

I turned to watch him admiring the sky. His eyes searched. For what? I wasn’t sure. But it was a look I didn’t recognize in the green. A hope and desperation, scanning the vast star-scape above.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Ulrich glanced at me. “On top of the mountain.”

I gasped and observed our surroundings. The trees, covered in snow. The rocky grey ground, also covered in the powder. I stepped forward, stretching my neck to find the light of the city far below.

“How on earth did we get up here so quickly?” I wondered aloud.

“An old trick a friend once taught me,” Ulrich replied, motioning back to the table.

The chill picked up around me and I pulled the cloak against my face. “When is your winter festival?”

Ulrich paused his retreating steps. “Two weeks.”

“What happens?”

My mind went to home. The fires and the singing in the town circle. The feast where everyone would gather in our large hall, warming the space to a suffocating heat.

The ball. Not anywhere near as grand as the parties Ulrich threw. But full of joy and laughter. Full of carefree fun.

“Things happen at the Winter Rite,” Ulrich said bluntly.

“ Things? What in the Gods does that mean?”

Ulrich’s hand thumped the table. “Why does it matter, Brenna?”

“Because I’m trying to learn about this stupid fucking city,” I yelled. “Is there anything I can look forward to? Anything your people do that brings joy to this cycle of death and debauchery?”

“You are not to attend the Winter Rite,” Ulrich replied.

“Rite? What does that mean?”

Ulrich’s hand hit the table again and the contents of his plate splattered across his black shirt. “You are not to attend the Winter Rite!” he yelled. “Do I always have to repeat myself with you?”

I shrank back, tears lining my eyes. “I’m not a child.”

His shadows grabbed my wrists, pulling me toward him. He stared up at me from his seat.

“I have lived millennia, Brenna. You have lived barely over a century. You are a child. An insignificant infant refusing to behave.”

I tugged against his power on me, my tears falling once more.

“Did you like my setting tonight? Leif did have a rather active imagination.”

My lip trembled at the callus way he spoke. “Stop.”

Ulrich’s shadows held me tighter. “I rather admired the suggestion to eat under the stars. I must admit I’ve never done this with anyone before.”

“Why must you always make everything vile?” I sobbed.

He stood, throwing his chair toward a tree. The crack of it splintered from the force, echoing around us.

“I’m a monster,” he breathed out. “When will you accept that?”

“I have accepted it,” I replied.

“No, I do not think you have.”

He dropped his hold on me and the door across the path swung open. Olen stepped out, eyes widening at the food across the table and the destroyed chair in the distance.

“My king,” he whispered, dropping his head with a bow.

“We’re done. Escort her back to the bedroom,” Ulrich replied.

Olen nodded, reaching for me but I pulled away. “I know the way.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Ulrich snapped as I passed him.

When I reached the hook for the cloaks, I refused to hang mine back up. I kept walking, allowing my hate to fuel my descent, until I’d reached the clock room. I turned toward three, running up the stairs with all my might.

When I reached the great hall, I pumped my legs, running not for Ulrich’s bedroom, but the one I’d briefly been given weeks before.

Olen let out a shout behind me, but I kept running until I found the bedroom. I slammed the door open as I rushed to the fire I had somehow known would be waiting for me.

Then I stripped. Ripping my cloak from my body, throwing it and the cover into the flames.

Burning it all to ashes.

Watching it catch flame with my hate.

Olen caught me right as I pulled the dress from my body and threw it into the fire. He yelled out his shock.

“Princess! What the fuck?”

I held up my hand, silencing him.

I watched those flames, with the shimmer of the dress I now realized glistened like starlight catching fire and filling the room with its smoke.