Blood Bond

It took until sundown for Stonehand's men to fully shake off the elven poison, their recovery a slow, groaning affair I observed with a detached weariness. I offered no aid from my power. It wasn't just the strain of controlling it; I didn't know how to withdraw my blood other than draining them dry. The thought that I might succumb to the hunger and just harvest them by accident was too much to bear. Stonehand, for his part, seemed to sense this dark, unknown nature of my abilities, or at least suspected it. He didn't ask for my help. A silent understanding passed between us in the heavy air of the clearing.

Our journey to the next town was a grim, torch-lit procession through the dark forest. Now that a pact had been made, Kael was given a mount from Stonehand's train. Meris, however, refused to part with me. When Stonehand reached to pull me onto his warhorse, the icy glare Meris shot him actually made the massive dwarf reel. He scowled but rode away without a word. So, I rode with Meris, whose arms and body held me tight and stiff like steel bars, refusing to give way.

Even in the flickering torchlight, I noticed Stonehand's men giving me a wide berth. My face probably still had scabs of dried blood from before, and my dress was in shreds, so I probably just looked a wild mess. But there was something in their eyes as they skirted around us that denoted… fear.

One of the younger warriors, his face pale, awkwardly offered a spare, rough wool cloak, his gaze not quite meeting mine before retreating. Meris snatched it from his hands without a word and draped it over my shoulders. Her fingers brushed my neck and lingered as she eyed the torn open section of my dress where my wound had been. It was just a wavy red line now. She didn't ask about it anymore.

Kael rode near us, his head often bowed. I caught Meris sending him a few sharp, judgmental glances, perhaps in disapproval for what I've become. Kael just kept taking it. His shoulders drooped. But there wasn't anything more I could say. Neither of them would listen to me when I insisted I was fine.

Meris glanced down at me, but then she quickly turned away when I returned her gaze. Her hand settled on my hair, fingers combing through the knots. "It'll be alright, Your Highness." Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but firm.

We reached the next town late into the night. The local Lord, large and portly, a worm of a man, practically rolled out of the gates of his manor as Stonehand's formidable column approached.

He prostrated himself before Stonehand and his line of bristling men. "Lord... uhm... Regent Stonehand!" he sputtered against the ground, his hand grasping to adjust his fine, almost translucent nightshirt, now stained with sweat. "Many apologies, we haven't heard you were coming... But my household is yours. Please make yourself..." His beady eyes caught on to the hard faces of the men behind Stonehand. "...and your men at home."

Bitterness filled my throat. Were all Aethelgard nobles like this? Had we all truly become this weak?

The forced hospitality of the manor at least brought practical comforts. Kael and Meris were shown to their own rough but clean quarters and given a change of clothes. I was ushered into a surprisingly roomy and well-appointed chamber. A jug wobbled atop a small side table. I turned to find a servant girl shying away, her hand half covering her face, her eyes fixed firmly toward the ground. I stepped forward and in an instant, she was in full retreat, scurrying out the door.

Strange? I shrugged and walked toward a full length, silver-backed mirror leaning against the far wall. On the other side of it was this thing confronting me. Her eyes were bloodshot, stark against a deathly pale face. The lower half of her face was a grotesque mask of smeared, dirty blood, cracked and flaking. Her hair, that once fiery cascade, was a tangled, matted mess, stiff with more dried, crusted blood. She was a wild thing, a freak, a monster.

I focused on her eyes, and willed the blood to recede. The thick veins of red over white shrank into dendrites of thin lines and then disappeared, leaving her eyes normal. Yet, just that act alone marked her as something not at all human. A tear rolled down the side of her cheek.

I turned my palm up. Beneath a coat of dirt, my skin was smooth and unbroken even where the fang had burst through and opened up wet, red flayed flesh. A teardrop splatted upon my open palm. I closed my fingers around its remains. I remembered his eyes. He had turned to look at me when my hand touched his shoulder. His eyes were blue and they were wide in shock. My hand had felt the softness of his flesh and his warmth. And then I killed him. Yes, I drained him much later, but it was then that I had killed him. Unlike before, when I had sprinkled blood from afar, here, I touched him, I stabbed and I killed him.

Memories of that sensation, of the look on their faces, their eyes, the elves, and even the teenage mercenary boy, they racked me. I couldn't stop shaking. Tears flowed uninhibited. No, be strong Ela! You have to be strong! I thought of the time when I found Maya crying in the corner of her room. The way she wailed and all I could do was to hug her and pull her tight against myself until sobs subsided. Here, all I could do was to wrap my arms around myself and hold on tight.

I was swaying and then falling and then arms caught me. I looked up into Meris's eyes, hard with sharp disapproval and alight with fury. The familiar creases were pulled tight at their corners. I tried to speak, but no words came. Instead, she snapped, "you're just a child… a child!"

My eyes dropped away from the fury buried in hers. Behind Meris, the door was wide open. I never closed it after the servant girl ran off.

She half-carried me towards the adjoining room where a steaming bath awaited. The scent of herbs was thick in the air. I leaned against her as Meris pried the stiff, blood-caked wool cloak off of me, and then peeled away the leftover strips of my ruined silk dress.

Hot, steaming water enveloped me as Meris lowered me into a granite stone tub. The surface was rough against my skin, but the water… soothed. Meris methodically sponged off the layers of grime and dried blood that caked my body. From time to time, her gaze would settle on the thin angry line on the right side of my chest, where the ice spike once protruded, amidst ruptured flesh. She said nothing.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

A comb was produced, and its teeth scraped against the wet tangles of my now dark red hair. It pulled at my scalp. I stared down past the clear ripples at this naked body that I'm so intimately familiar with, and yet also so utterly alien. An arm moved beside me, and more tugs on my scalp. There were scratches—long lines of scabs dotted the slender, rope of an arm beneath rolled up linen sleeves. I looked at her face, and saw the dark bruises on the side of her cheek, the deep gash on the left of her forehead. I remembered her in her tattered uniform, the way she ran for me. There were rings under her eyes. She had been chased, all alone that whole time.

"Meris. Are you… are you alright?"

The pulling on my scalp ceased. Her gaze met mine in the steam, startled, as if the question was the last thing she expected. She gave a curt, formal nod. "I am well, Your Highness. It is nothing."

But it wasn't nothing. It never had been. She had cared for me since I could remember, always, that constant presence behind me. And I had never once acknowledged her. Here, even now, after all that she had endured for me, I was wallowing in my own horrors and self-pity. It was just me staring back from that mirror. My hand glistening with water, reached over to hers. "Thank you, Meris."

She looked down at our joined hands, then back at my face, a deeply conflicted expression clouding her features. I stared back down at my body, naked beneath the swirling stream. "I'm… different now."

Meris said nothing for a long moment, the only sound being the drip of water from the sponge.

—

The bath was surprisingly invigorating. I was clean again. And Meris's expert hands had managed to give life back to my hair, which now cascaded like fire down my back. Servants stopped in their tracks when I passed, their eyes wide and jaws slack. No one fled.

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up, and I placed a hand upon it. Weird. I was never bothered by these stares before. In either case, there are more important matters. I held on to this freshness within me, a new resolve building as I searched through the halls for Stonehand.

I found him in what must have been the Lord's private study – a small room lined with dark, somber paintings and a stuffed Gladehart looming overhead. He reclined back in a massive, dark oak chair with heavy, arched arms, its polished surface reflecting the room's dim light, his scarred boots propped up on an expansive wooden desk.

Two of his men flanked him, their faces harder, their bearing more authoritative than the common soldiers. Were they officers? They were bent over a map stretched out before them. One of them was ash-haired with a vaguely familiar face. Wait, was he the one that had the audacity to grin at me right before the feast? The ash-haired man was guiding a glossy, black ink wand over the map's surface.

The ink wand clattered onto the parchment as both men suddenly looked up, their hushed discussion cut short by my entrance. They froze, eyes wide and fixed on me. Their lips were caught half parted and their eyes simply seemed to be stuck.

"Will you get a load of that emerald and fire. She cleaned up nicely, don't she boys?" Stonehand's voice shook them out of their stupor as he looked up from the flagon in his hand.

"Lord Stonehand," I began, my voice fueled by the gathered resolve. "We need to talk. About Jarlen, the elves. They ambushed your men, they poisoned you. They are a clear threat not just to Aethelgard, but to everyone, to you. We need to form… a council, strike back at the Keep, and take them out before—"

Stonehand's golden eyes twitched. He took another swig from his drink and snorted. "Council? Go get some rest, girl. You're in no shape for anything now."

"Rest?" My cheek stung. "There isn't any time! My family—"

"You've been shaking like a twig all the way here," Stonehand cut me off. He leaned forward on one arm and pointed his cup toward me. "It was a good fight, Princess. But even the toughest warriors must settle with their demons after battle. Else it'll consume you."

His words struck a raw nerve. How dare he! People at the Keep could be tortured, dying, this very moment—Astrid, Anya, everyone! He need to understand! Without even thinking it, I was instantly connected to my blood flowing within him. I could consume all of his blood and take his mind. I can make him understand.

I blinked and stumbled back. What? No! Meris caught me with a firm hand. "His Lordship is right, Your Highness. You need to rest." Her eyes met Stonehand's over my head. A silent understanding seemed to have passed between them because he bobbed his head as Meris pulled me away.

"Tamas is keeping me abreast of things at the Keep by spirit messenger. We'll talk in the morning." He waved his large hand, signaling the end of the conversation.

Spirit messenger? The words reeled in the image of Jarlen weaving patterns in the air with his fingers. His dismissive 'mist sprite cantrip' right before he boarded into the carriage to our ambush.

Was that the signal? Was his 'spirit messenger' the signal to set their trap in motion?

If only I'd known then. I could've stopped him. Or at the very least warned Astrid.

Stonehand snarled as he stared into his cup. "Bah! Where in the blazes can I find some decent spirits in this soft-arsed place! You! Go find me something that doesn't taste like piss! Something with fire!"

A moment later, as Meris was firmly guiding me from the study, we heard the ringing clash of a bottle shattering against a wall, followed by Stonehand's frustrated growl.

—

Back in my given room, Meris helped me into a simple nightgown, and then eased me into bed. She pulled the linen covers up to my chin. I reached out; my fingers found hers and pulled her hand to my face. Her skin was dry, her fingers bony and calloused – so unlike Mother's soft, elegant touch. This hand was one of work, and quiet, unyielding strength.

"Meris…" The words I truly wanted to say – about Leo, about the blood, the hunger, the terrifying new power inside me – caught in my throat. They refused to come out. "I… I remember how awful you were at reading fairy tales to me." A watery smile touched my lips. "Your voice was always so dry and monotonous. I remember how I would keep nodding off to that drone, only to be pulled back up by its crinkled notes."

Meris stared at me, her sharp features steady. "I'm sorry, Your Highness."

"No, don't. I just wanted to tell you that there's still a part of me left." I squeezed her hand, pulling it closer to my chest. "Even if I've become…"

Meris's other hand came to rest over mine, her gaze narrowed as she looked down at me. "No, child. You haven't changed at all."

I stared up into her eyes, searching for any hint of deceit, of pity, but found only a steady, unwavering conviction. Under her watchful gaze, I drifted off to sleep, once more as the sheltered princess of a magical land.