Page 128 of A Bond in Blood

My shoulders went tense at the sound of Ulrich’s voice above me.

“No,” I replied.

“Now,” he commanded.

I lifted my eyes, challenging the king before me. “Tell me something truthful and then I will let you see.”

He stepped back.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything.”

His eyes appeared frantic behind his mask. I was sure he would deny my bargain when he surprised me and sat beside me.

“This ink on my skin,” he muttered, pointing to his chest. “Would you like to know what it means?”

I nodded my head.

“It’s a symbol of sorrow. Of remembrance. For me to never forget where I come from and what has made me who I am today. Everything good and vile that lives in my veins.”

“I doubt there is any good,” I whispered.

His laugh shook the couch beneath us. “I doubt it most days as well. But then I remind myself of where it lives.”

I lifted my eyes, finding him staring out across the library.

“It’s in moments when I allow my heart to care for the stories that made this city live.” His eyes met mine. “When I allowed a little bird to remind me I was being careless.”

“Oh.” I dropped my gaze.

“Or when I walk the streets, listening to the small babes and youth in their joy. The noise reminds me of a simpler time, lost in my memories and heart.”

“Ulrich,” I muttered.

“Or perhaps when I allow a bizarre woman to screech at me before my court and I do not remove her head.” He winked.

“You ruined it,” I groaned, standing.

He laughed. “I get to see now.”

With a scowl, I passed him my parchment. His eyes scanned the paper while his fingers traced my work.

“This is beautiful,” he whispered.

I took it back, admiring what my hands had created. The map, a perfect replica of the clock room with intricate details of each individual hallway evident in my depictions.

“You labeled each one,” he stated.

“Yes, to the best of my ability.”

He took the parchment from me again. “Forbidden?”

His smile was bright when we met eyes again while his finger pointed to hallway nine.

“It is,” I nodded. “I had no other word to use.”

“It’s fitting,” he replied, then stood from the couch. “It is time for our dinner.”

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