Page 48 of A Bond in Blood

The cloak on my back slowed me down compared to the beast I followed. Yet I couldn’t remove it. The most unexpected change in the last month had been the sudden drop in temperature throughout Ulrich’s island. In one day, it had gone from brisk but comfortable autumn breezes to frigid cold and frost.

Ulrich had joked one night that perhaps Ymir was waking from his sleep in the far Mountains of Vaneer, forcing the world to celebrate his cold.

I told him Gods of only ice and snow were the most insignificant of all but if the giant had awoken, it was likely with Bestla’s approval.

“Men do fall to their knees at a woman’s command,” he’d replied before turning on his side and falling into a deep sleep.

“How’s sleeping beside the king?” Olen’s question threw me from my thoughts.

“How did…?” I stopped my response. “It’sfine,” I replied.

“Are you keeping one another warm and snug?” His white teeth peeked out over his black lip.

I rolled my eyes. “I am following my rules, Olen. I sleep beside him. Unmoving like a stone. Me on one side of that monstrous bed and him on the other. Then each day I wake alone with his side of the bed empty.”

“That’s no fun,” he grunted, rounding the corner of the cobbled road.

“Not all of us require an unending river of bodies each night.”

His head threw back and his laugh rumbled, the fur on his body shook along with the sound.

“Princess, if you’re ever interested, you know where to find me.”

With a scoff, I walked around him, picking up on the panicked fae and creatures now running from the harbingers of death.

I’d been gifted a fitting new title in the court and city:Ulrich’s Wraith Whore.

Me at Olen’s side while I watched, unmoving, frozen in my obedience as Olen ripped apart body after body.

The title had begun its whisper just days after our public deal. Filtering through the halls I was finally allowed to venture down alone. Following me when I passed doors and alleyways in the city.

Even the trees seemed to whisper on the occasional journey when Olen would take me down the dirt roads leading out to the outlying villages.

Like this entire island had heard of me. And they all feared me.

I didn’t understand why when I had about as much strength and power as a toddling. Perhaps even less.

Olen entered a courtyard surrounded by trees and I stopped. In the middle of the space stood Ulrich, his mask fitted against his face. It was a skeletal mask. One I was sure had been made from the bones of an actual victim.

Olen’s head dipped, his snout touching the cobbled road.

His paw hit my foot, but I couldn’t mimic the motion. Even when every head bowed to their king, I was rigid with shock.

Ulrich hadn’t appeared at any of these reapings. Until that moment, he had always sent his right hand to do his dirty work.

Yet, here he was, staring at me with his hair tied half-up and his torso completely bare.

My eyes took him in. His ink—it covered nearly half of the bare skin. I first stared at the horns on his neck. Menacing, a warning to stay clear. Replicas of the horns he regularly wore on his masks. As my eyes traveled down his neck, I studied the piece on his chest, finding the snouts of the creatures I’d seen before were identical pieces on either side. Their heads making up his chest, their necks traveling across his shoulders and as he twisted his body, I found their bodies, both with large fanned out wings at the back. With their limbs wrapped around his sides and long tails wrapping down his arms, stopping at his wrists.

Monsters.

He had monsters inked into his skin.

A fitting piece of art for a monster himself.

My hands stared at the tails wrapping around his forearms, and the strange letters along the end. I didn’t recognize the words, but they appeared old. Perhaps older than this world itself.

His hands clapped, pulling me from my daze.

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