Blood Bond

The waves of my name were still simmering in the crowd when I saw Saleic out of the corner of my eye. He was looking up into the balcony where his father, Titus, sat beside Stonehand, staring back down at him with a dark scowl and narrowed eyes.

At the sight of his father's glare, Saleic's gaze fled the balcony and found mine. Wide and swirling, his eyes held a desperate plea. I'd seen that same pain and fear in his eyes before, when Titus's fingers dug into his shoulder and twisted him away. He looked like a cornered animal. Before I knew it, I found myself stepping toward him and offering him my hand.

He stared at my outstretched hand, wordlessly for a moment. When he looked back up, the eyes that were wide and swirling before had vanished, replaced by narrowed, grim determination. The muscles of his jawline tightened. Had I done something wrong?

His hand shot out and took hold of mine, but he stayed on one knee on the ground. "High Princess Elara," he began, his eyes darting up past me to where his father must be staring down at him. His jaw muscles tightened even more. "I ask for a lock of your fire. That mesmerizing hair of yours, I wish part of it to be mine."

Sure, why not? It's just hair.

That was my immediate reaction, but it was quickly countered by a deeper realization: in all the fairy tales Anya had read to me, the knights had sealed their oath to the princess with a lock of her hair. Plus, the prize for the tournament to determine my protector?

It had been a lock of my hair.

I stared at him, flabbergasted. He couldn't be?

"Yes, I'd like to declare my oath to you," he answered my unspoken question. He lifted his chin and chest. It wasn't the snobbery from before, but just pure, unadulterated pride. I couldn't find any insincerity in his voice or his determined eyes. Then he added in a lowered voice, "Join me, princess. I, my house, can protect you better."

A tide of murmurs swelled over the crowd. Figures stepped forward onto the dance floor, boots clicking loudly upon the polished mirror surface. I recognized a few of them as the trainees from the Academy. They were all young teens, with boyish, naive faces; a couple of them didn't even have their Soul Seed yet.

One of the older boys, a tall, reedy teen with silver hair stepped forth. "You are not worthy! We will defend her Royal Highness from the likes of you!" The others echoed their agreement.

The snide glare returned to Saleic as he scanned over them. "Really?" he hissed, smiling savagely now. "I'll take you all on, all at once if you will. Right here."

My eyes dropped lower. His collar was open, his Soul Seed on full display in the manner of a High Royal. It was yellow-tinged—Air-affinity, just as I'd guessed—but the rune within it was a sharp, thrusting rapier. It was that of a Duelist: an advanced rune!

The scales of power. The words echoed in my mind, and I found myself searching the crowd until my eyes landed on the one who had spoken them: Lady Blaire. She wasn't looking at me, but at the trainees on the dance floor, her face etched with worry. She and I both knew: They would be slaughtered.

I placed myself between Saleic and the brave, but foolish boys. "No. Your request is kind, Prince Saleic, but I do not wish to grant it."

This should be the end of it. He is a High Noble, but I am a High Princess. I can simply refuse.

"No?" Saleic's eyes were fully, intensely back on me. "This is a request from a peer. Refuse, and I will have my right to challenge. To the death."

A peer? The word was a slap. My mind reeled at the preposterousness of it, but when my eyes shot back to the balcony, the proof was undeniable. Titus Valerius, the Lord of Veridia, was sitting in the same row of seats as my father—such a thing would have been unimaginable a week ago.

"Yes, that's right. We're peers now," Saleic said, wiping the dust from his knee as he rose to his full height. "So, concede. Give me the lock of your hair, or name your proxy."

Several of the older boys took another step forward, their faces grim, but I held up a hand and waved them back. There was no way I was going to pick any of them to duel him. That would be signing their death sentence. Enough of our blood has already been spilled.

Another figure strolled forward through the trainees. Tall, wide-shouldered with sandy hair and looking entirely too heroic in his tailored Rodinar uniform. It would have been a welcome sight, if it wasn't for the fact that it was him.

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"I will defend the High Princess's honor in her place," Cassian declared as he moved toward the center of the dance floor.

Saleic doubled over as he burst out laughing. "You can't be serious. You, of all people?"

"We are peers," Cassian said, his jaw tight.

"You are betrothed, you bean-for-brains," Saleic shot back, his voice dripping with contempt. "Or have you forgotten? I am not asking for her hair. You have no grounds here."

Cassian stumbled back a step as if struck, his face flushed. He shot me an apologetic gaze for reasons I couldn't quite understand.

Why do I care if he's engaged?

The question was immediately followed by another, one with a distinctly sharp edge.

Wait. Was he trying to two-time her? With me?

The thought was so jarring that I almost flinched. But I pushed it away. There were more important matters.

I tried one last, desperate appeal to logic, whispering in as low a voice as I could, "Saleic, you can't be serious. You don't want to be tied to me. I'm useless, remember?"

He just shook his head stubbornly, folding his arms over his chest. "No. I will have the lock of hair, or the challenge."

Just as I opened my mouth to argue further, a calm, steady voice called out from behind me—the one I was dreading.

"I, Kael of Aethelgard, accept your challenge on behalf of my charge and liege."

"No, wait!" I cried, trying to shove him back, but he was an unmoving boulder. "Stop! I didn't agree to this!"

Saleic's smile twisted into his usual sneer. "Perfect. Just as I was hoping. I'll see you in the arena tomorrow."

I groaned, a wave of dizziness washing over me as I tried to push back the aching pain in my head and stomach. My eyes fell back to his waist, to the ornate rapier at his hip—the reason I had to stop Kael.

Inset into the hilt, winking like malevolent eyes, were two small, embedded crystals: Soul Seeds, elven made ones. One was a blue-tinted crystal bearing the rune of an Assassin. The other was dark, almost black, containing a rune I'd never seen or heard of: a grinning skull.

—

I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots as we stepped back into my side chamber. "What did you think you were doing?! I could have convinced him if you had just given me more time."

Kael's face was set in stone, "That boy wasn't going to change his mind no matter what you say to him. Like I said, he's after me because of what happened at the tournament with his uncle."

I paced the room, still running my fingers through my hair. Anya chased me down with a cup of tea. The warmth of it soothed my nerves and also the aches from above and below, briefly. "What are we going to do now? You can't fight him. You saw what those things did to Astrid."

"I can, and I will. It's my duty to protect you and your honor."

"That's not the point!" I snapped. "Did you not see those strange Soul Seeds on his weapon? One was a Water Assassin seed, but the other… it's dark-affinity, but what is that skull?"

Kael wouldn't meet my eyes as he rubbed at his chin.

I grew impatient. "Come on, you've had war training. 'Know your enemy,' right? You must have read a Rune Lexicon. What is the skull?"

"I saw the runes in those Soul Seeds, and that skull is not one I know of. There were rumors… of a skull shaped rune that some called 'Reaper'. What it does, I don't know." He turned and squinted at me. "More importantly, where have you heard that phrase before? You had no military or strategy training..."

"I've had no training in anything!" I finished for him, my words laced with fire. "Hence I know nothing! But it seems like a basic principle, doesn't it? And right now, we know nothing!"

I looked from Kael's troubled face to Anya's worried one, then to Meris, who watched us all with an unnerving stillness. Then my gaze rested back on Kael. How am I going to explain to Astrid if anything were to happen to him?

She had left right after her speech. Had she even seen me dancing? I shook my head. That wasn't important. If Kael died because of me, would she blame me? No, she would be punching that wall until her hand bled.

"No," I decided, my voice firm. "We're not doing this. I'm not losing you to this pointless fight. We're leaving. Meris, Anya, pack some of my things. I'll need more linens, at least."

Kael raised his head. "How? There are guards outside."

I held up my hand, my fingers curling slightly. "I'll convince them to let us through. I just need to get close and…"

The words trailed off as I stared at my own palm, at the spot at its base where the fang could erupt from the flesh. The thought of it stabbing outwards into real, living flesh, again, made me sway.

A firm hand grabbed my wrist, snatching me back to reality. It was Meris, standing right beside me, her voice a low, urgent whisper in my ear. "No, child. You were not meant for that."

"But then what do we do?"

"I'll fight and I will win." Kael said with a sureness that I didn't have.

"I can't lose you."

His eyes swept over me, landing on my own. "Why, Your Highness? I'm your protector. My life is yours to give."

"Because… you're my… friend," I finally managed to say. "We've been through so much together."

Somehow my answer just made him sigh and look away.