Page 3 of A Bond in Blood

“Your betrothed, princess.”

It landed at my feet, splattering dark liquid up my green dress. My stomach lurched at the smell while time ceased the longer I stared at the liquid seeping from the fibers of the fabric. Slowly, I forced myself to kneel, peeling the tied edges open.

It wasn’t possible.

It wasn’t…

My scream ripped from my throat, echoing across the fjord. In the sack, a short length from my fingertips, was the bloodied head of a fae man.

Not any man.

The man I’d been waiting for. The man whose portrait I’d slept next to for years—Leif.

“You monster!” I cried, throwing the sack back to the creature who had infiltrated our shores.

Only, my effort to rid myself of the gore was useless. The liquid, Leif’s blood, had stained my dress. The smell clung to every part of my skin.

“Please give us one hour,” my father whispered beside me, startling me. “One hour to gather her things and say goodbye.”

“What!” I cried. “I’m not leaving withthat.”

The creature at the dock laughed again, the sound forced my body to recoil with fear.

“A deal once made, princess.”

“Father!” I protested with tears lining my eyes. “Father!”

I watched as the man I’d once believed would do anything to protect me rose from his knelt position, placing a single finger over his lips. He shook his head for me to remain silent.

He turned back to the Unseelie King’s creature once more.

“One hour,” he repeated as he gripped my wrist and pulled me toward our modest palace.

I tripped on my soiled dress while he wove through the crowds of our people gathering once more.

“Don’t speak,” he whispered, keeping his voice low.

My heart raced, my head swam, and my skin smelled of death as I followed. I had questions. More than I was able to form on my tongue.

But not one was more pressing than the one at the forefront of my mind.What does the Unseelie King want from me?

My father slammed my bedroom door closed behind us, keeping his voice at the whisper he’d had since the dock.

“We must make haste,” he said with command.

His hands moved in an unnatural frenzy, ripping my wardrobe open and throwing my clothing onto my mattress.

“Papa,” I protested, catching a gown before it landed on the comforter. “Papa,” I repeated.

His eyes were glazed over when he turned my way, like he was terrified to his bones. He kept pulling the clothes out, not acknowledging my pleas. Not even blinking when I continued to call out to him.

My bedroom door opened, before slamming again. I glanced up, finding my grandmother.

“Will you two tell me what’s happening?” I begged, falling against my mattress.

My grandmother shook her head. “No time to despair, child. Let’s get this dress off you quickly.”

I shook my head, flattening my hands against my thighs. Not caring that the tips of my fingers were resting against the rotted blood of the man I loved.

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