Page 195 of A Bond in Blood

His voice cleared and I met the same stoic, unmoving expression that was burned into my memory. A ruler stood before me. Not my father. Not the man who had raised the daughter born in a bath of his wife’s blood.

No, he was a king who had done what he believed to be best for his subjects. Not what he’d believed best for his child.

He left me in the study, surrounded by my own works of art and the lingering hate of his inaction in my heart. My hands shook in my lap while one fist crumpled the parchment.

Did I want to read the words? Did I want to discover whatever lies my captor had sent to quell my foolish father’s fears?

I raised my fist, releasing the paper and smoothing it out, refusing to flip it over and read the words until my heart was sure I was ready.

I was not ready for what I found.

King Enok. . .

My eyes snapped up.

I jumped to my feet, propelling myself down the long hall until I reached my bedroom door. My hands threw it open, and I went to my vanity, ripping open the drawer. Papers spilled out, unleashed from their hidden place.

I was frantic while I grabbed as many as I could, splaying them out across the top of the vanity. My eyes searched the ink, the words I had committed to memory.

There had been a change in the lettering, subtle in the beginning. One I had brushed off as him being more intentional with his writing.

I flipped through the pages, trying to find what I searched for.

I found one, lifting it with shaking hands while I read the words.

My enaid,

I dream of you, Bren. Every night my mind wishes to know what your voice is like. For I’m sure it will be a sound my soul has longed for. Perhaps it will be similar to the music that floats through the palace, calling for you to join me by my side.

Iknewthis handwriting.

Chapter 38

My mare flew through the village, kicking dirt and mud from the pouring rain while I steered her to my destination.

I knew that handwriting.

Gods, what was this?

What had he done?

The rain grew thicker, almost blinding me when I arrived. I dug my feet into the mare’s side, alerting her to stop and I jumped from her, tying her to the post outside the small building I’d run to.

I opened the door, finding the little cottage empty and dusty.

The only thing my mother had left me. The seaside home her parents built when she first met my father. A place just for her on a strange new island.

I moved around the space, my heart racing while I lit the fire and threw my cloak onto a dusty chair at the table.

When the heat had warmed the building some, I turned back to the front door. Walking right out into the rain.

It only took a few steps before I was stopping at the crossroads. The only one I knew to exist outside of our village.

I reached into my gown’s pocket, my finger brushing the gold coin and the knife I had hidden. I lifted the blade, trembling while I breathed out and sliced it across my wrist.

“Ulrich!” I screamed, allowing my blood to hit the dirt. “I know you can hear me!”

I was not in Vaneer. I was not burying my blood as he had instructed me. But he had already lied so much.

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