Page 18 of Marked by the Enemy (The Binding Vow #1)

I turned. A figure waited in the shadows—tall, unmoving. His stance struck something familiar in me. A blue aura shimmered around him, bright enough to blur the edges of his form. He seemed middle-aged, but the light made it hard to tell. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet here I am,” I said.

“I am telling you this to warn you.”

I squinted at him, unable to see his face because of the electric blue aura surrounding him. “Warn me what? ”

“I cannot remember. You are marked with something which you think is good, but it’s not. What do you carry?” He rubbed his temples. “You are unaware of what you are opening.”

“You sealed the chamber. You built the path. You left the marks. You wanted someone to come.”

“I didn’t build any of this, but I don’t want the situation to worsen.”

The mirror shattered like a truth finally spoken. The gate beyond was veined with light that pulsed beneath its surface. Behind it, things stirred. The bond twisted in warning.

“You will unmake us.”

Without hesitation, I entered, and the corridor crumpled behind me like paper folding into fire. When I woke, I was still standing in the Keep. My breath came in short gasps. The circles on my palm, wrist, arm, and chest were warm.

Darian sat nearby, watching. “You never lay down.”

My muscles weakened, and I pressed my palm with the circle against my heart. He was speaking to me again. I had missed him. Tears welled. Fortunately, he couldn’t see them in the starlight. “I walked the corridor.”

“In sleep?”

“No. While awake.”

He studied me like the ground had cracked. “What did you see?”

“A figure,” I said. “Cloaked. Tall. He was waiting at the end of the corridor.”

Darian straightened. “Was he a fae?”

“I think so. He had silver eyes. Brighter than yours.”

His whole body went still. “Did he have hair?”

“I couldn’t tell. He wore a cowl. Why?”

“Only those born to the Moon Court’s highest line have silver eyes. Direct lineage.”

“Then he was like you,” I said. “Or who you might’ve been.”

I watched him try to process it—try to bend what I’d said into something he could live with. But the tension in his jaw said he couldn’t.

“What did he say to you?” Darian asked at last .

“He said I wasn’t meant to reach that far. That he built the path and left the marks, but not for me.”

“So, for who?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t say. He was angry, though. Not loud. Just disappointed, like I’d spoiled something.”

Darian’s hand moved slowly to his own forearm, fingers brushing the edge of one of his circles. “You think he was a Bone Seat?”

“No. I think he’s trapped somewhere. But he’s fae, and he said I shouldn’t open the gate.”

“You said he warned you?”

I nodded. “He told me I’d unmake them.”

“The Bone Seats?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something else. Maybe something older.”

Darian looked at me like I’d said something sacred and forbidden in the same breath. “What gate?”

“Behind the mirror. After it cracked. The bond let me see it. It seemed to be alive. Beyond it lay other entities who were watching.”

Darian didn’t speak for a long time.

“You think he’s part of my court,” he said at last.

“I think he used to be. Or thought he would be.”

The skin became taut around his eyes. “And you still went through?”

“I had to.”

“You weren’t afraid?”

“I was. But I didn’t listen to him. Because the bond didn’t stop me. It warned—but it didn’t close the path.”

Darian rubbed both hands over his face, palms dragging hard over his eyes. “I can’t understand what’s real anymore, Talia. I’m unsure of what they made me forget. I’m unsure who that might have been.”

“Then we remember it together.”

He lowered his hands. His eyes met mine. “What if he was me?”

I didn’t flinch. “Then I walked past you for a reason.”

The tether curled between us .

“What if it was my father?”

“Why would he deter me?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? If he is trying to do something from the afterlife, perhaps he wanted to make things right again and take control from the Bone Seat.”

“You know, Darian…” I gripped his hands in mine.

He sucked in a breath, tense, but didn’t pull away. “What is it?”

“I understand there are memories you remember and don’t remember, and I’m only guessing you are very confused.”

He sniffed and turned to face the wall. He was silent for a few pulses of a heart before he turned back again. “What? What do you want to say?”

“That if and when you ever want to talk about it or try to figure it out together, I will always be here to help.”

He started laughing and pulled his hands away. “You? You don’t even know what you are, Talia. You didn’t ask for this bond, same as me. How could you possibly help fix it?”

He turned on his feet and walked away. He didn’t return.

The bond stayed quiet for most of the morning, but before noon, it tugged faintly. He was present, but far. Not distant enough to worry me, but far enough to be alone. He wasn’t in danger. He’d made that clear. Whatever he needed to sort through, he had chosen to do it without me.

I picked apples and peaches, checked the traps again, and returned with a rabbit and the fruit, though my hands moved without focus.

The courtyard was quiet. The rafters above gave no shade.

The air was so humid with an underlying tension, like it waited for something to be said and didn’t know how.

That night, I left his portion by the fire.

He never returned for it. But when I searched for the bond before sleeping, I sensed him closer.

Somewhere near the southern rise, where the old forge stones still caught heat after sundown.

He hadn’t gone to the river. He hadn’t left the Keep.

He was beside it, waiting. And the bond waited, too.

The following morning, the river was cold, even in summer. I waded in past the reeds and submerged myself all at once, breath held, released slowly through parted lips. The chill helped clear my thoughts.

My muscles ached from lack of sleep. My ribs ached from words I hadn’t said. I dunked once more. When I stood, the water slid off my skin in long streaks. I didn’t hear him until he stepped on the flat stone behind me.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Darian said.

I turned toward the voice. He stood at the edge of the water, boots wet with dew, sleeves rolled high. A satchel slung over his shoulder.

“You didn’t,” I said. My arms crossed loosely. “It’s your river too.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to say sorry.”

The words hit like a breath held too long. “Me too.”

His gaze didn’t drop. Not even once. I stood bare from the waist up, water beading on my skin, and waited for his eyes to glance to the place where most men looked first. He met my eyes and held my gaze.

Like nothing else existed. Like he didn’t notice.

Or didn’t care. I wasn’t sure which unsettled me more.

Darian rubbed his stubbled jaw. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I don’t believe it. About the bond. About you. I just… I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“That’s what I was trying to help with.”

“I know,” he said. “And I should’ve let you.”

I nodded. “I almost hoped you’d join me.”

He blinked. “In the river? Both of us…?”

I said with a half smile, “It wasn’t about you. You just needed a proper wash.”

His eyes softened, but he shook his head. “I caught fish farther upriver. I’ll start the fire. You come when you’re ready.”

He turned, and his shoulders dropped, like something between us had finally eased. I hadn’t touched him. I hadn’t said anything comforting. And still, something healed.