Page 72 of A Bond in Blood

“It was part of our agreement,” Ulrich went on. “My creatures here,” a finger pointed at the black, limber beasts standing silently by the boat, “well they got rid of your father for him. In return, Leif had to write to a lonely princess on an island.”

“No,” I muttered.

Harold laughed loudly. “Leif would have never written to a half-fae. He was as disgusted by them as we all are in Vaneer. We all know ofherisland. Of her ancestor begging like a slave for Oberon to allow him to marry a pathetic mortal.”

Ulrich knelt beside me while my tears continued, his finger wiping my cheek.

“Oh, but Harold, he did.”

The king’s gaze was burning into me while he addressed the prince behind him.

“He wrote to her. But he disobeyed me when he made her fall in love with him. When he promised to come to her aid, bringing her to Vaneer to marry and produce more of…” His voice trailed off and he turned his head back to Harold. “What did you call them? Miscreations?”

“I hate you,” I cried, choking on my sobs.

Ulrich turned his head back to me, grinning. “He claimed something that was not his to claim.”

Harold’s laugh was wicked. Evil. A sickening sound as he replied, “She’s pathetic. Look at her, covered in filth, crying like a babe. Making a show of herself before us all. Why would Leif have ever loved her?”

Ulrich’s hand grasped mine and I glanced down, finding a shadow blade in my palm. His eyes were on fire, a hidden request.

“Look at her!” Harold laughed again. “Likely no better than a commonwhore.”

My lips trembled while my grip on the knife went tighter. Harold did not stop. His insults hit me, one after another.Digging apart who I was and who I had longed to be. Tearing away the fantasy I had created of my future with Leif.

“Rage,” Ulrich whispered above me. “It’s addictive.”

“My king!” Harold shouted. “Speak tome, not that filthy bitch on her knees.”

My eyes met Ulrich’s for just a brief moment before my rage came out of me, blinding me with hate as I ran. My scream echoed around the dock, a wraith’s call, claiming her victim.

I landed on Harold’s lap and the fae choked back his laughter. His eyes were wide, but I did not see his face staring back in fear. No, I saw Ulrich’s, his vile grin, his masked eyes, and that stupid knowing he always had in his gaze. I lifted my hand then brought it down, plunging the blade right down Harold’s throat. I let out a scream that ripped from my soul.

His gasp of shock was choked with his blood now spilling out around my fingers. His eyes stared back, and my vision cleared from my mind’s imagination of Ulrich’s emerald gaze. I stared down at the same grey Leif’s had been when his head was presented to me all those months ago.

“Wraith.”

The word echoed around me while I gazed into the fear forever frozen on Harold’s face.

“Wraith,” they repeated. All of the silent bodies that had been watching this show, chanting together.

I fell back, staring at the red blood on my shaking hands.

What have I done?

Ulrich was before me, pulling me from the ground and pressing his face against the side of mine.

“What a goodbeast,” he whispered before leaving me at the dock with Harold’s bleeding body at my feet.

Chapter 17

Five Months.

One hundred and forty days.

Nearly two weeks since I’d taken a life on the dock. Even with the days growing away from the moment that had marked my soul for eternity, I continued to scrub my hands raw each morning and night.

I could still see the blood—a damned spot staining my skin.

---