Page 17 of Marked by the Enemy (The Binding Vow #1)

Chapter twelve

The Fifth

T he rain had driven us indoors the night before. We’d taken shelter in the old forge’s southern wing—what remained of a roofed chamber with soot-stained walls and a hearth long since gone cold. Darian and I had spread our bedrolls on the stone floor, the air damp with the scent of ash and moss.

I woke to a scratching sound inside the walls. Darian stirred beside me, hand reaching instinctively for his blade. I sat up, heart pounding, the bond within me pulsing in time with the noise.

The eastern wall of the chamber had changed. Symbols were etched into the stone, fresh and glistening. Four circles, and beneath them, a fifth—only half-drawn. Below that, a narrow slit had appeared, dark and deep. A door.

“That wasn’t here last night,” Darian mumbled.

“No. The bond made it.”

“Why now?”

“Because it’s ready. Or I am.”

I approached the wall, pressing my palm to the incomplete fifth circle. The slit widened silently, revealing a staircase winding downward into darkness. A faint silver glow emanated from below, the bond’s magic lighting the way.

“I’m coming with you,” Darian said, stepping forward .

The bond crackled between us, sharp and sudden.

He staggered back, clutching his chest. “It won’t let me.”

“It only opened for one.”

“How far will you go?”

“As far as it takes.”

Without waiting to put on my boots, I descended.

The stone steps were cool beneath my feet, the air growing colder with each step.

The walls were lined with carvings—ancient symbols, fusion marks, names long forgotten.

The bond pulsed with recognition. At the base of the stairs, I entered a circular chamber.

The floor had a smooth texture. In the center lay a shallow pool, its surface shimmering with silver light.

It wasn’t water. It was memory.

All tension left my body, and my shoulders relaxed.

But when the images came, they hitched back up again, and my pulse picked up.

The pool stirred, images forming and fading—dad’s departure, my mom’s lifeless body, the grave I dug, the trials I faced, Darian’s silent support.

Moments layered upon moments. The bond shimmered, awaiting.

A new image surfaced—the mysterious red-haired woman with fae ears and hazel-green eyes.

There was an expanding feeling in my chest, and I licked my lips, nodding rapidly. What was it with her? She appeared young, then aged in front of my very eyes, her hair styled differently, but always the same presence.

A voice echoed in the chamber: “The Fifth.”

The pool stilled. The chamber brightened. The bond didn’t invade; it embraced.

As I turned over what the woman’s voice had claimed and wondered what that even meant, something surged up my spine. It struck through my chest so sharply I nearly lost my footing. The force didn’t stop. It rushed over me in waves, buckling my knees and driving me toward the wall.

I braced myself against the stone, breath shallow, arms trembling. My skin prickled all over .

When I looked down, the mark on my chest had changed into a complete circle. It glowed for one full breath—silver and whole. The fifth circle. The same shape burned into the trees, carved into the chamber.

I emerged into the light. Dawn had broken.

The air hit harder than I expected, sour from the storm the night before.

My boots scraped softly on the stone as I stepped past the final stair.

I didn’t look behind me. The area behind had become empty.

Just stone, sealed smooth again where the slit had opened.

I found Darian in the courtyard, arms folded.

He stared at me. “It shut behind you.”

I nodded. “I didn’t close it.”

He moved closer, and a nervous tick appeared under his eye, as if he was trying his hardest to control his temper. “But it knew when to end.”

I drew the cloak tighter over my shoulders. The air between us seemed fragile. The bond stayed peaceful, yet not soundless as it listened and contemplated.

“I saw the redhead again,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “The redhead? You never told me about a redhead.”

“I assumed you were already aware of her. I mean, you can read my mind,” I said sarcastically. I regretted my words straight away.

His lips pressed into a white slash. “I’m not able to read your mind. I can only feel your emotions. I can’t hear your thoughts.”

I briefly wondered if he had been aware of my growing sexual attraction to him. I regretted that, too. I did not find him attractive at that moment. “She was old the first time I saw her in a pool at the Moon Court. She had fae ears, but her skin was wrinkled, which was strange.”

“Impossible. Faes age, but they look young until they die. ”

“I understand. That seemed odd to me, as well. The second time I saw her, she was young and beautiful, with long braids. This time, her age kept changing, along with her short hair and long braids.”

He waited.

“She looked straight at me and a woman’s voice—maybe her voice—echoed her name.”

“What name?”

“The Fifth.”

That made him flinch, and the tether recoiled like it had recognized something it didn’t want to admit. I undid the clasp at the top of my tunic and pulled the fabric aside, enough to show the skin beneath the curve of my collarbone. The circle had sealed and blazed silver.

Darian drew a breath.

“I didn’t ask it to mark me,” I said.

He glanced down and pressed his palm to his own chest. He unfastened the top of his shirt, revealing a thin line, which also blazed silver now. “You’re further along.”

“I didn’t want to be.”

“No. But it still picked you.” He turned his back as if looking at the Keep gave him something to lean against. The silence built like pressure before he turned around again. “Why did it let you through that stairway? Why won’t it let me near the deep things?”

“I don’t know.”

“But I always feel it,” he said. “Every change in your mood. Pain, fear, hunger—I feel it all. Even when you don’t say it.

Even when you try to bury it. That makes it most challenging, because these emotions overcome me unexpectedly, and the reason is unclear.

I am unaware of the reasons behind them. ”

I hesitated. “I saw you, too, though. In the vision. The boy hiding behind the column as the woman… the Bone Seat…”

He shook his head and bellowed, “That was a memory!”

I opened my mouth and closed it, surprised by his sudden outburst. I wanted to ask him who she was and whether he’d carried that memory before I first tried to kill him, but got bonded instead. “And my feelings are not related to memories?”

“Some of them might be,” he snapped, nostrils quivering with anger. “I don’t think all of them are. I mean, I sense them when you’re awake,” he said. “When you’re silent beside me. I sense you even when you won’t let me in.”

I stepped back. “You’re angry.”

“I’m unsure what I am. I’m unsure I even recognize which pieces are mine anymore.

I sense things I can’t name, and they belong to you.

I remember things that might be make-believe stories or might belong to someone else.

I’m standing here trying to build something out of pieces I don’t understand.

And every time I reach forward, the bond answers you. Why does it always choose you?”

“It didn’t choose me,” I said. “It chose something else. And I walked toward it.”

Darian closed his shirt again. “It marked me, but it didn’t speak.”

I touched my collarbone. “It spoke to me through someone else’s name.”

He snorted and swung around. “I’m going to the south wing. Roof’s still solid. If the storm comes back, we’ll need shelter. I need more sleep. Didn’t get much after you vanished through the goddamn wall last night. Fuck!”

I nodded. “I’ll follow in a moment.”

I swallowed, shocked. This was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry and the first time I’d heard him swear.

Perhaps his composure was finally breaking, and I couldn’t bring myself to feel angry anymore.

Perhaps that wounded boy who had witnessed his mother’s execution was finally bubbling up from the shadows from where it had been buried so deeply.

After he left, I stayed in the courtyard. I glanced down at the mark again. The circle didn’t shine anymore. It observed, like the pool had observed. Like the redhead had–The Fifth. Regardless of her identity, she’d seen me.

Darian left in a strop that day. He said he was scouting the hills. I proceeded to set traps.

When he returned late in the afternoon, he looked weary and hollow. I cooked the wild boar I’d managed to snare and kill. I offered him some of the roasted meat with flatbread. He refused. Said he’d fish instead. I didn’t see him again. He was clearly working through something on his own.

I wished I could help him untangle the true memories from the false ones. I trusted the man he was now. The one who had chosen me. The one who had bled. But the memories planted in him—those remained sharp. Still gray. Still unspoken.

We hadn’t talked about what the Bone Seat had done to the unseeing. We hadn’t talked about our painful memories. We were still strangers.

That night, I lay on my back beneath the open rafters. Sleep never came. Behind my eyes, a corridor unfolded. It wasn’t a dream. I remained awake. Still, the corridor remained.

I sprang to my feet. The Keep blurred away. My feet met stone—straight, narrow, lit by low flames that flickered without warmth. Each step echoed softly, as if I walked inside someone else’s memory.

The bond didn’t pull me forward. It simply allowed the path to open. Or perhaps it was testing my steps. At the end of the corridor stood a mirror. Its black glass surface didn’t reflect me. I stretched a hand toward it. It cracked.

A voice came from behind. It was quiet, but close enough to stop me cold. “You should never have gotten this far.”