Page 14 of Bound in Violet Ink
Holding Victoria against me is dangerous. The bond strains between us like a taut wire, vibrating, begging to place my attention solely on her—on what should have been sealed long ago.
It takes everything I have to rip my attention away and move.
Carrying her close, I stride with purpose through these tunnels.
The decision to incapacitate her was made swiftly.
The debauchery for flesh and violence that will follow until we get to land is not something she needs to witness.
Already, the halls and tunnels fill with those who take advantage of their gifted freedom.
The way a person screams when violated, either through flesh or murder, is not a sound one forgets.
Victoria is only here because of Silas, and I will not let this place be her introduction into the new world.The duskborn will handle the aftermath of this place and what it does to people.
Victoria’s body is slack against mine, her head nestled beneath my chin, her lashes kissing the tops of her cheeks as if in surrender.
Let them look. Let every eye on the battlements and every whisper in the shadows spread the message that Victoria is mine now.
And I do not forgive for any harm brought to her.
Let the tale race ahead to Silas’s ears—that the woman he caged like a relic now lies safely against the chest of the man who will destroy him.
Of the man he tried to throw to the Carrows.
I hope he trembles. I hope he clutches the iron arms of his throne and finally understands fear. He will either step into the open, or I will storm that fucking castle.
He will pay for sending her here .
As we breach the gates of Carrows, the sky itself seems to shift.
The light of day hits my skin like absolution, like fire after endless dark.
The movements are swift around me as the plan of action commences.
The longboats wait at the levee, bobbing in solemn rhythm.
I get Victoria onto the largest longboat, unmarked, ignoring the oarsmen as they stare at her while I move to the back of the vessel near the mast at the stern.
I lay her against other fabrics, adjusting the ones around her so she won’t move too greatly, her olive skin a beautiful contrast against the surroundings, including her inky black hair.
Even unconscious, she unsettles me. So delicate… yet every part of her has the strength of a kingdom denied its crown. She will sit by my side as we undo the injustice of this world.
I settle beside her, hand still pressed lightly to her ribcage, feeling the rise and fall of her breath. It’s already rising and falling faster than it should, meaning she’s been exposed to this before.
The unbound energy of desperate revenge tests my resolve. What did they do to her while unconscious? How often did it happen that she has some build-up to its effects?
Osman joins our vessel while Freya remains behind to direct the rest. My gaze rakes across the oarsmen until they look away, understanding without needing to be told—she is not to be touched.
Not even by thought. Not until she can command that herself and is fully bonded to me.
“No more delays. Freya will handle the rest. Get this ship out of here.”
There was once a plan. Wait. Regroup. Ensure the others made it. But that plan shattered the moment Victoria fell limp in my arms. Now, nothing else matters.
We’re leaving immediately.
I cast one final glance up at the looming silhouette of Carrows, to the place Silas thought he entombed me. My jaw tightens when considering it’s a place he meant to entomb Victoria.
How poetic it will be when he learns who walked out, and who he has in his arms.
My only regret is that I will not see the moment his mask cracks—when he realizes what he’s lost. When he sees her free… and wrapped in the arms of the man who will drag his reign into the dust.
The boat rocks against the pier with a hollow thud, the black water slapping against the wood. Mist clings to the surface, rising to mix with the thick, sour air of fish, rust, and salt.
A second dose was needed when Victoria started to rouse.
In the event of an emergency, there’s a counter tonic that can be wiped under her nose to aggressively pull her from her sleep.
I can’t have her awake and worried. It demands too much from me, the unsealed bond festering.
I need to get us safely on land before worrying about her place here.
Beyond the docks, the port is alive. Filled with any and all who will smell her. There’s an undertone of whatever true identity she is, but it’s utterly stained with the life she has lived. From the foods she’s eaten to the oils used in her hair.
Give it a few weeks before the stain of the Seelie’s will be removed from her. And those beautiful, golden hazel eyes will burn bright with vengeance.
Vendors shout from behind their stalls, hawking goods as shady as the buyers themselves. The buildings are stacked crooked and close, wood bleached gray by endless storms. Ships groan in the harbor, their rigging snapping when tugged.
My people leap lightly onto the dock as I lift Victoria into my arms—she will be waking any moment—and carry her with a care that makes my own men glance at each other. Let them. The sooner they connect these dots, the better.
A man waits near the makeshift, short gangway, flanked by guards with polished armor and blank stares.
He doesn't fit here. His clothes are too fine—dark green velvet slashed with gold thread, a long coat meant for a throne room, not the piss-stinking docks.
An outfit I wear when necessary.
A half-smile plays on his lips like he already thinks he’s won whatever game he’s here to play.
Ignoring him, I take Victoria to Freya, where a horse-drawn carriage lined with hay awaits.
As I lay her down, my arms still underneath her and her face closer to mine, Victoria’s slow beating heart is no longer felt against my skin.
She is warm, alive, real.
She’s just a stranger to me, in truth, but the promise of what she is to me is as mesmerizing as it is to dethrone the Seelie. “Whistle if she awakens,” I say to Freya, leaving her but not too far.
Lord Malric’s smile tightens as I approach him, his gaze flitting over to the carriage. Something deep and aggressive within me wants to lock that woman away until every last rite of mating and bonding has been fulfilled. Control yourself.
“So, the rumors of you escaping are true. Kane Blackthorn himself, completely dismantling the Carrows. It’s like dragging a legend out of the sea.
” He gestures lazily to the guards, pretending not to stare.
“And through my little mice, I’ve heard you have the adopted daughter with you.
And that happens to look exactly like her description. ”
My voice is flat. “Rumors spread faster than changing winds.”
He laughs once—a high, brittle sound like glass cracking.
He steps nearer, but doesn’t get too close, as I still hold the rank here.
“Whoever marries her is entitled to Silas’s protection,” he says quietly.
“She’s been difficult to marry, I’ve heard.
But now, some of those who rejected her are talking about returning out of desperation, knowing what looms in the air. ”
I study him without blinking. This is the kind of man who thinks words are weapons because of the networking of whispering spies he has. A wild card, I acknowledge, but he holds no power .
“Do you go around often making vague statements without defining what you mean?” I ask, my tone soft enough to be dangerous. “Because you are wasting my time, and I’ve spent too many fucking nights in that prison to waste it gossiping with you.”
The man's throat bobs as he swallows.
“I don't know why you have her,” he mutters, lowering his voice even further, “but either get rid of her, or figure out a way to make her permanently unavailable. I don't want that kind of trouble near me.”
I let the silence stretch just long enough to make him sweat. Then I smile—sharp and cold. “I already planned on it.”
He bows his head slightly and takes a careful step back. Turning away from the Lord and his guards, I stride back to the carriage as my boots leave prints in the wet soil. Behind me, the port churns and roars, oblivious to the small war just narrowly avoided.
But it doesn't matter.
Bigger battles wait ahead.
And I have every intention of winning.