Page 73 of A Bond in Blood

I sat in the library, staring at those hands in front of me, my chest heaving.

Olen snored on the ground before me, filling the spacious room with echoes of his comfort. All while I sat there, fixated on my palms.

My eyes closed and Harold’s dead eyes stared back at me, the fear on his face marking my memories. The sounds of his mocking laughter and his fear-choked gasps.

The image of the blade shoved down his throat.

I stood, the chair beneath me clattering to the ground.

Then I ran.

Trying to force my mind from its own torment.

Olen let out a bellow of shock but, to my surprise, I was faster than him while he was pulling himself from his state of sleep.

My hands slammed the library open and I ran faster, heading toward the stairs. I didn’t dare to look back. Not when I needed to rid my body of these stains, to wash away this shame I was carrying.

Trolllaid themselves against the walls of the palace while I passed, all of them whispering in shock at the feral woman with the hair of fire whipping behind her back.

Somehow, by the grace of the Gods, I made it to the grand foyer without Olen catching me. My hands shoved the doors open, finding more strength than I’d ever believed I had.

My eyes went across the courtyard while my feet continued to propel me forward. Determined to get to one place and one place only.

I raced through the gravel and to the palace gates. I turned, my eyes catching the green leaves barely blocking the dark pathway to the tunnels I’d ventured down before.

I glanced back once, still finding no beast following before I tucked under the thick foliage and back down the tunnel.

It was dark, darker than it had been when I’d first explored it in the daylight. I pulled my eyes to the ceiling watching the barely visible footsteps above while red moonlight filled my hidden walkway.

My hands trembled at my sides, reminding me of why I’d fled, and I ran again. Until my feet hit the crunching sound of sand.

My sobs left my lips when the water came into view. It was peaceful, even with the red of the moon turning it crimson. Like the stains of blood on my hands and heart.

Without a care, I walked forward, right into the water.

The cold grasped my breath from my lungs.

Then I sank. Letting my body go weightless in the cold. Allowing the water I knew was not red to stain my entire being with my sins.

My limbs went numb under the cold, with my hair out behind me, floating on the water.

I kept my eyes closed, holding my breath.

I wasn’t determined to die. No, that hadn’t been my intent. I just needed to feelclean.

My body began to reground itself, to return to normal while my pulse slowed. Until hands were wrapping under my arms, lifting me like a child’s plaything.

“What,” a voice muffled by the water in my ears grunted, “in Fate’s name are you doing?”

My eyes lifted and I tilted my head back, watching while Ulrich dragged me back to shore, depositing me onto the sand like a sailor’s fresh catch.

The air hitting my skin instantly brought my teeth together in uncontrollable chatters.

“Fuck it all,” he groaned while rushing to me, wrapping the cloak he’d ripped from his shoulders around my body.

“I needed to be clean,” I cried.

“From what?” he sighed, lifting me against him. “The ink you leave splattered all over that desk in the library?”

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