Page 22 of Bound By Darkness

Gwen shrugged as her shoulders slumped forward. “He said it was vital to Cethales you were saved… that you were born special. I have no clue what it means, but I’m sure if you ask him, he will tell you.”

Vital to Cethales? How was rescuing me vital to Cethales?

Gwen placed a hand on my knee. “Dwelling on things we don’t know will only lead to rabbit holes of fear.” She gavemy knee a quick squeeze. “I’m sure he’ll tell you everything if you ask.”

She must be delusional if she thought he was going to tell me anything. Clearing my throat, I glanced at her face. Kindness shone back at me as I asked the question clinging to my heart— “Am I really safe here? The guards… won’t find me?”

It was such a stupid question, but I couldn’t help but ask. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Gwen shook her head, gray hair falling over her eyes. “Of course,” she answered, her hand patting my leg. “Focus on healing. I’m sorry if yesterdays’ impression was less than pleasant, but you are safe. The mist protects these woods from outsiders.”

She patted my leg once more before standing, her knees wobbling. “If you are up to it, you can come downstairs once you heal. I could use an extra hand in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine here.”

“Suit yourself, but if you get hungry, there’s plenty of food and drinks in the kitchen. I won’t withhold anything from you.”

“Thank you,” I answered truthfully.

Her eyes narrowed as she paused under the door frame. “Now drink the tonic and eat. I expect it gone by the next time I check on you.”

Without waiting for a reply, she slipped out, the wooden door closing.

An exhale left my lips as I sat the tray onto my lap.

Spooning the porridge, the sickly sweet texture melted on my tongue as I popped berry after berry into my mouth. I couldn’t help but mull over her words. It didn’t make sense. If Ivan knew my secret, how come he had not told Gwen? Did something prevent him from doing so, and what about him rescuing me made it vital to Cethales?

Cethales was cursed because the original four kings struck down a Fae god, taking their casting as their own. In return, the Fae gods cursed Cethales, turning the land to sand and removing immortality from all Fae, even the majority with no casting. Why would I ever be of importance to a dying land—a land the Fae gods abandoned, taking all remaining casting with them?

Shaking my head, I tossed back the remaining tonic. A slight buzz lingered in my mouth as it coated me in a layer of warmth that seeped into my bones.

Scraping the last few morsels of porridge, I set the tray on the table. At least the food was pleasant here. Not even my father cooked dishes this tasty.

A smile crossed my lips as I remembered his last disaster: the chicken set ablaze over the roaring flames he’d crafted inside the house as he’d frantically tried to take out the charred meat from within. The flames scorched the ceiling and drapes as he flung it out the window into the basin we’d used for the pigs.

I remembered his laughter as mother walked inside, her stunning drapes a thing of ash in the basin. She’d hit father with a pair of oven mitts, her laughter eventually mixing in with his.

They had been content, if for a short time.

Those memories had quickly cracked and crumbled as mother and father drifted apart. Father spent most of his days traveling, leaving me alone with my mother and sister, Yeva.

Ruffling my hair, I flung the quilted sheets over my head, covering myself in darkness. A memory from my mother resurfaced as I tossed and turned beneath the heavy fabric?—

Daughter, light and dark have always intertwined themselves with Cethales. If one becomes separate from the other, the world will cleave in half.

Chapter 9

Clinging Sickness

MORIA

The pungent smellof sweat wafted through the damp cave as I curled my legs to my chest, creating extra space for the girl beside me.

Her arms and legs were spread wide as she rested on her stomach. Her breathing rasped in the dead of night as her brown hair curled around her flushed cheeks in wisps that framed her rounded face. Not a single blemish marred her skin and her fingernails were still clipped neat as if she’d never seen the stains of labor.

She had most likely been someone of importance. A person who had lived a lavish lifestyle until she’d been turned in. Fae or half-breed, it didn’t matter. Everyone arrived here for one reason—to die.

The young girl shivered violently, her forehead glistening with sweat as her lip wobbled, a whimper escaping.

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