Page 3 of Marked by the Enemy (The Binding Vow #1)

Chapter two

The Bond That Shouldn’t Be

T he door opened after midnight. Darian stepped in alone. He kept his hands behind his back and looked at the far wall like it was worth more than I was. “You had one chance.”

“Pity I failed. You should be dead, and I should be rich.”

He looked at me strangely. I couldn’t tell if it was contempt or calculation. “There are laws. The vow chose you. That can’t be undone.”

I wanted to ask what the vow was and why it had chosen me, but I didn’t. He was my enemy, and I still needed to kill him. He stepped farther in, halfway to the bed.

“You should rest. Fight it, and it turns cruel.”

My head ached. “Let it try. I’m used to pain.”

He stared too long, too hard. “You’re used to small things. This is older than you. Older than your Borderlands. It’s too powerful for the simple-minded, like you. ”

A tightness gripped my face, and my skin stretched into a snarl. “Simple-minded? The unseeing seem that way because you chain them. But I come from the Borderlands. We see clearly.”

“You must be simple-minded, too, if you can’t see we fae already understand that.” He growled under his breath as he turned back toward the door. “You’re a guest. Leave, and the bond ends you. This isn’t a warning—it’s how the tie works.” Then he departed.

I plopped onto the bed, all my hatred drained from defeat.

The vow. The bond. It had too many names for something that didn’t ask.

What was this magic? Silence filled the room.

But I had company. Whatever had happened in the ritual, the vow-magic was inside me, and marks on my palm and wrist were proof.

The silver had faded, leaving only circular scars behind.

A fragrance of lavender and sun-warmed linen emanated from the blankets.

I didn’t lie down. He had said it couldn’t be undone.

Everything could be undone. I went to the window.

Below, the courtyards had emptied. A single torch crackled near the inner wall.

Somewhere far off, a horn blew low and short.

The air smelled like pine smoke and lightning.

A storm building out past the hills. My eyes burned, but I wouldn’t close them yet.

The mission was still alive. I thought of the Boundless—what they’d given me, what they’d trained me to do.

The fae lived long and ruled quietly, but they fed on our silence.

Let the humans wear themselves out, building the roads and picking the crops.

Let the unseeing stay blind. That was the deal. That was how the courts kept order. And Darian was one of them. A ruler of a system that left my village starving while his gates stood gold-plated.

I touched the inside of my wrist where the second circle still burned, fine as smoke. I didn’t know what it meant. But I knew this: The prince thought he’d won. He hadn’t. Not yet.

The sun didn’t rise. Above Elaren, ash-colored clouds hung heavy, blocking out the sun.

Still, it was morning. The chamber filled with silver-white haze.

Cold on my skin. From the warmth of my blankets, the tie throbbed under the ribs.

It sent a signal into my consciousness, telling me that Prince Darian was awake and close.

I pushed myself up. My back protested. It felt rigid, although I doubt the trip or event caused it. Was the magic making me old and frail? Would it suck the life out of me like it did the unseeing?

The vow clung to the walls. It had grafted itself to me—thought, bone, breath. I couldn’t tell where it ended. Supposing Darian to be nearby, he’d soon appear, proving my prediction right. If I walked far enough, the bond would catch like a thread stretched too far.

The maid entered. Bread, fruit, tea. I eyed the breakfast she carried, and then I studied her round face and downcast amber eyes.

“Why does the bond make people afraid?”

She didn’t meet my eyes. “Because it changes things.” She left without another word.

Midmorning, a knock. One sharp rap. A fae guard waited outside, silver-clad, silent. I followed. We marched through corridors lined with runes I couldn’t read. I felt them anyway. Like whispers brushing the base of my spine, and the vow interpreting their voices.

The hall opened into a chamber. It was lit by large windows, and I noticed the clouds had vacated the recently dismal sky.

Sunlight sliced through the gloom like it had no right to be there.

Intricate tapestries adorned the walls, and the scent of polished stone and wood enhanced the regal atmosphere.

A single stone table stood in the center of the room, with a lone chair placed behind it. Prince Darian sat in the chair, his long black hair falling around his smooth, pale face.

His eyes were the grey of smoke after a storm—cool, hollow, watching for a fire that hadn’t started yet. “Sit.”

I didn’t .

He shrugged and flipped a page in the book before him. “You’ll find it easier to stand for now. The bond hates silence.”

“It’ll love me.”

That almost earned a reaction—just a twitch of his lips, maybe annoyance.

“There are terms to this arrangement. You might hate them.”

“Then don’t expect me to follow them.” He closed the book and looked up at me. His eyes were a color I hated. That pale winter gray. “You don’t know what the vow is.”

“And I’m not asking.”

He stood. “There are three stages. We’re in the first. Surface resonance. Unstable. Temporary.” He strolled toward me with a casual, unhurried pace, as if he had all the time in the world.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Not because he was beautiful—though he was—but because something in his expression cracked. Like he wanted to say something else. Something that hurt.

But instead, he sealed it shut behind that cold, perfect face. “The second stage comes next if it stabilizes.”

A painful lump rose in my throat, yet I jutted out my chin. “And the third?”

“Fracture or fusion. Only the powerful fuse. For the rest, the bond turns them to dust.” He gave me his usual intense, cold stare.

I didn’t blink. “Which would you prefer?”

“Neither. Why did you try to kill me?”

“Because you are evil.”

A muscle quivered in his jawline. “Who sent you?”

“I thought the interrogator would get that information out of Priestess Jinth.”

He flicked a hand. “She died too easily. She was stubborn, like you.”

Bile burned the back of my throat. I swallowed.

“The thing is that if you are too weak for the bond—which you clearly are—we will both turn to dust.”

Although I stayed grounded to the spot with my chin jutted out and nails digging into my palms, I lost track of spatial awareness. I had prepared for the death of comrades, but this marked my first experience with such a loss, and resisting emotion proved difficult.

The silence between us stretched until something in the air tightened.

He turned, crossed to the wall, and drew a sword. “You’ve trained.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You track exits first. You walk like you know how to take a hit.” He tossed the blade at my feet. “Pick it up.”

I stayed where I was.

“If you want control over the vow, you’ll need to show it something.”

I picked it up. Light. Balanced. Dangerous.

His sword shimmered faintly, without light striking it.

The blade was Fae-Steel—silver at a glance, but threaded with darker veins that swam when the weapon moved, like smoke trapped beneath glass.

The Boundless had called it an old craft, folded metal and memory, quenched in something more than fire. It looked alive.

“One strike, one question,” he said.

“And if I lose?”

“You sweat.”

We fought. His blade was faster. Mine hit harder. I aimed for the neck. He aimed for my knees. He never stopped talking.

“Too slow on the pivot.”

“You’re breathing wrong.”

“Left side’s weak.”

My breath sounded loud in my ears. I gritted my teeth and shoved forward. Our swords locked. The vow surged—heat under my skin. His eyes flashed silver.

I took a shaky breath. “What was that?”

“You wanted to hurt me. The bond noticed.”

“And if I want you dead?” I snarled.

He strode forward and pressed his blade against my neck. He wasn’t only training me. He was testing himself. Testing whether I could survive him.

“You’ll have to try harder.” He stepped back and lowered his sword.

My pulse thudded in my ears. “Why didn’t you kill me? ”

He tilted his head and frowned. “Because it would’ve made me a liar.”

“To who?”

“The vow.” He turned and walked away. “Same time tomorrow.”

After a silent meal, a new maid entered without knocking. She moved like the room belonged to her, dropped a folded set of dark blue clothes at the foot of the bed, and turned. “After you’ve eaten, wear this.”

I looked her over. Shorter than most fae, my height exactly, but she carried herself like she outranked the walls.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Is that a suggestion?”

“No. The prince is summoning you to the High Hall.”

I dressed slowly, feeling the weight of the ceremonial fabric against my skin.

The material was thick and meticulously lined.

Its purpose was ceremony. The fabric hugged my waist and left no room for casual movement.

I extended a hand into my sleeve and retrieved the leather cord I had hidden away, a small act of rebellion that I clung to fiercely.

I tied it around my hair. Small defiance. All I had left.

Two guards waited at the end of the hall. One stepped forward. “This way, Consort.”

They led me through unfamiliar corridors, past more runes and wards carved into stone.

This wing was older. This was where decisions were made.

The High Hall opened like a mouth. The stone columns were so pale they seemed lit from within.

The floor, glass or similar, appeared dark, smooth, flawless.

I expected my boots to squeak on its surface, but they remained quiet.

Six thrones stood in a half-ring before the far windows, each one occupied. I recognized only one councilor, though I had studied the other elemental seats before. The Boundless hadn’t only taught me how to fight and kill, I had studied as well .

The Water Seat with sea-foam curls was scrutinizing me.

Her robes moved like tidewater. Droplets shimmered at the hem of her sleeves as if the cloth remembered storms. To her left, fire.

The Flame Seat’s robes licked and curled in colors that changed from ember to amber, restless as breath on a match.

He sat forward, hands steepled. His eyes burned gold.

Wind wore white. Wisps floated off his sleeves like smoke that forgot how to rise.

His pale eyes stretched thin. His throne didn’t touch the floor.

Earth looked stillest. Her robes bore the texture of bark, moss, and vine.

Brown and red and green threaded together in the intricate patterns like those you find in nature. Her brown skin looked carved.

Iron gleamed. Silver and black wrapped around her like armor melted and re-forged.

Her gaze flicked to me once and moved on, pupils star-pinned, wide and sharp.

The Bone Seat’s robes stirred like ash and fog, grey layered with something that might have been bone and might have been light.

Occasionally, ultraviolet veins like a neural network flashed through the cloth. His eyes were white; his pupils, tiny.

I looked away before he caught my gaze. I knew that robe from my training.

The Boundless had taught me to fear it. The ten Bone Seats of the Fae Realm apparently communed with spirits.

Death-watchers. Deal-makers. I masked my fear with false bravado and anchored my feet wide apart.

Hardly the stance of a noblewoman, especially in finery. Let them stare.

I wasn’t a noble. I certainly wasn’t a fae. I was a trained assassin, taught to hate them and kill their ruler. And there he appeared. Darian stood in the center. He didn’t look at me. That made it worse.

“Talia of the Borderlands,” the Flame Seat said. “Approach now. Don’t be shy.”

I walked the way I had walked to witness executions. Slow and controlled. The last thing I’d ever wanted was to be in this room. Now I was the reason it existed.

Tension filled the air, as if time stood still. Darian tilted his head just enough for me to glimpse the sharp edge of his profile. His face was a stoic mask, devoid of any emotion, with only the strong line of his jaw offering a glimpse of his formidable presence.

“This council requires a declaration,” the Wind Seat said calmly. “Your binding was unorthodox. Rushed.”

“The vow doesn’t wait for protocol,” Prince Darian said.

“It does wait for truth,” the Iron Seat replied as she scraped her silver hair over one shoulder. “Why did you choose her?”

The prince wrinkled his nose at me. “The vow-magic chose her. I didn’t. Tell me, why would I choose a stranger, and a human stranger at that? However, aren’t the rules that the bonded marry?”

The Bone Seat nodded. “Well, your parents certainly did.”

A quiet murmur. Displeasure barely held back. My breath hitched briefly as I wondered what had truly happened to them.

“Is she to be acknowledged as Consort in full?” the Earth Seat asked.

“Yes,” Prince Darian said.

I winced inwardly. To be married to the man I should have killed brought dishonor to my name. What if anyone from the Boundless found out? They would think I was a traitor.

“Then she must speak.” The Earth Seat’s dark eyes flashed the color of honey for a second.

I hadn’t been told the words. That wasn’t an oversight.

The Prince’s voice was low. “One sentence. Say you accept. Or say you don’t.”

I knew the rules. If I accepted, I became theirs. If I refused, they’d bury me before I hit the floor.

I stepped forward. “I accept the bond that has claimed me. But not the throne.”

A few nods followed, some reluctant, some satisfied.

“It is done,” said the Bone Seat.

Darian came to my side, but didn’t look at me .

My breath sounded loud in my ears. I hated him more than ever, even if he acted cool and calm. His armies had destroyed my home, and I would never forgive him.

“You may go,” he said.

I left alone. No one stopped me.