Page 7 of The Faebound Trials (Mates and Madness: The Phantom Prince and The Bloodweaver #1)

Fretting over not getting a task and a designated timeline made me broke in cold sweat.

To make things worse my stomach grumbled with such intensity that I felt anxious and lightheaded, my insides felt cold and shaky. I patted my breast pockets to look for a small pouch.

“You’re shaking. And you’re hungry.”

I need to take something that would spike my sugar levels. I couldn’t find it here. I looked inside the pockets of my trousers. Frustration made me livid.

“Yes. Enara didn’t have much to offer.”

Without a choice but to live in a world about to collapse, I had to live in constant hunger almost every single day.

My body didn’t take it well, abnormally low blood sugar levels made it unbearable for me to constantly fast while I hunt for food.

And I had Lera, a growing child. I might be innately selfish and greedy but not with her. I would rather starve, I would rather suffer than let her.

Learning I had a talent for bloodweaving didn’t make things easier. Bloodweaving requires the user to use blood, having this condition would make it harder for me to thread accurately in time.

And I just couldn’t let myself burst into pieces, and now my pouch of sugar was gone.

“Kell had the same condition. I think he was here. He was one of the Trialbounds who were among the ball of fire. I hope he’s alive.”

I couldn’t thank him enough. I followed him.

I saw the end of the line. Individual balls of fire descended gracefully and as they rolled like a folded carpet, their bodies gradually reassembled to form a body.

The ball of fire hadn’t been made out of stone. It was made out of red flesh. Intestines, organs, lungs, and the heart formed the outer shell of the ball of fire. Sizes differ depending on how tall the mortals were.

Fire surrounded them like plasma. The fire doused off when the Trialbound Mortals stood lithe against the ground.

The transformation from the ball of fire to a human body stunned me. I thought it would have been horrific and bloody. It wasn’t.

My eyes fell on a mess of blond hair. A crowd of mortals surrounded him.

“That’s him.” Atley said. “Kell was one of the leaders. Kind of. Not really official. Trialbearers didn’t explain anything to us so the ones who were here the longest were kind enough to tell us what happens here. How the trial goes.”

Kell stood tall among them. Blond and brooding never mixed well. But with him, he made it work.

Beside Kell, another tall man remained silent while Kell spoke to the crowd. The man was the total opposite of Kell. Inky black curls hung around his face. His lips in a permanent grim line. His shoulders were too broad for his tiny waist.

Mortals. Bloodweaver Elites.

They had the same mark carved in the lateral part of their neck, the one I’ve seen from my parents. A black arrow piercing through a vertical golden crown in half.

“They’re done with their trials. What are they doing here?”

“How did you know?”

“The marks on their necks were identical to my parents.”

“Your parents are both Bloodweaver Elites?”

Atley’s eyes were wide in shock or bewilderment.

“I don’t know that much.”

I scratched my left arm. Trying to ease the tightness around my chest.

“If you were born from Bloodweaver Elites. What are you doing here? They wouldn’t have found you. The Order protects the children of the elites from Enoranthas.”

“I didn’t know. My parents told me nothing about being a bloodweaver or The Order. I wanted to escape Enara. We’re starving. The Faebound Trials were my only chance.”

“They didn’t really tell you shit, huh?”

I was about to speak when I was cut off by a figure who stopped to stand beside me. Atley recognized him and forgot about me.

Up close Kell had this kind of face that makes you just want to stare. His blond hair was a bird’s nest, thick, long, and frizzy but that didn’t make him any less handsome. His nose was crooked in a way that made him real.

Atley’s words became a blur.

Kell gave me a small smile which I returned. God. I love handsome faces.

My eyes darted to the mark on his neck, then an image of my parents’ laughing faces crossed my mind, their marks on their neck glinting similarly to his. Though his mark had three ragged black lines at the bone of the crown.

“Lowen?”

I blinked when Atley called my name.

“Sorry?”

“He was asking if you had eaten.”

“I haven’t. No.”

I looked Kell straight in the eye and Kell was the first to break the stare. He grabbed something from his pockets and I noticed how we had the same pouch.

“Here. I’m not sure if you use the same sugar. But this is the only thing I have here.”

“Thank you. I also use Caran’s sugar. They’re the only ones left anyway.”

Before I collapsed, I ate the whole sugar and let it do its work.

“Delten closed?”

“More like ransacked. Couldn’t pay the Embergrave their slot. They burned the shop to the ground.”

Something flashed in Kell’s eyes, something close to sadness and understanding.

“You live around Mistfall?”

Kell started walking and so did Atley, so my feet moved without thinking.

“Greima. But I worked around Central Mistfall.”

“Thief?”

More like a wannabe assassin.

“Messenger.”

“It fits you. You looked like you could be trusted with something valuable.”

I laughed as I shook my head in disbelief.

“I guess pretty faces can be trusted.” I smugly said.

Mom always hated the fact that I was never humble. Whenever we argued mom would always point out how proud and arrogant I was. That I should try to put myself down and let others do it for me. But I refuse to do so.

“Not because of your pretty face,” Atley chipped in.” You had that kind of look in you. As though you wouldn’t utter a single lie.”

“I doubt I had that innocent look on.”

“Nah. You kinda look like you would punch the living daylights out of anyone who would try. You had the narcissist stare.” Atley said giggling.

“I think the right word is smug. You have this dignified calm demeanor you would see in our leaders,” Kell added.

“This is too much but thanks.”

They both laughed when finally, we arrived somewhere.

My brows furrowed at the sight of people dressed in dark blue clothing. All were gathered near a wall that stands 20 feet high. Bloodweavers too. How many are they?

One girl captured my attention.

“What are they doing?”

Kell went to the nearest girl to point at the delicate movements of her hands. She was creating motions, as if she was weaving something. Her eyes snapped closed as she focused on controlling the essence of her soul and body.

“An exercise. To keep the mind intact. But that. That was a routine. A carefully composed sequence to remember how you weave back parts of your body. There were instances when someone threaded in time where they wrongly assembled their joints and their body parts. You get the idea. Suddenly the lungs were placed right where your stomach originally was. Eventually, the bloodweaver would suffer internally. While there where cases that manifested physically and that’s what you should be careful of. Suddenly an arm was moving in a way that didn’t seem normal. The mortals living in that era freaked out. Then it was recorded that that incident wasn’t really made by a monster, it was just a bloodweaver who rearranged their body wrong.”

“What do you mean by recorded?”