Page 6 of Vows Forged in Blood

“Fuck off, Bastian,” I mutter, though I can’t help the small smile that curls my lips. For all that I love my camp and my soldiers, love the mountains and the snow and the thrill of battle, I do miss my family (most of them—Ahmed can fuck off) dearly. Though I plan to go collect Dahlia, I take a few minutes to visit with the rest of the family. I meet several nieces and nephews for the first time—the fact that they aren’t infants makes me realize how long it’s been since I’ve made an effort to see most of my siblings. I have the excuse of fighting a constant war that keeps all of them, the entirecontinent, safe, but I know that I should do better. But, in truth, I’ve always felt so different than any of them, so on the outside. Bastian and Fi are the only ones who seem to actually understand my choices and my decision to join the fight rather than take the mantle of a true royal—and don’t judge me for them. Even still, I should at least write to the others more often, send gifts for the children.

“I’ll come visit soon, to check in on…things,” he says, slapping me on the back.

“Well, I won’t come visit that terrible camp, but if you decide to go to Ashcliff, I will gladly come see you there,” Fi says with a pleading smile. She’s always adored my manor—a castle, really, I suppose, but I hate using that term—overlooking the LyranianSea. I rarely go there, haven’t been in…almost twenty years, I think with a frown.Perhaps Dahlia would like…

I shake myself, pushing the thought away.

“If I make a trip to the coast, I will let you know,” I promise her. “And my camp is not terrible,” I add. She gives me a look that says she would rather lose a limb than spend time there and I smile. “I’ll see you soon, brother,” I tell Bastian. I glance towards the rest of my siblings and catch Ahmed glaring my way. I glare right back, itching for him to try something. Bastian follows my gaze and rolls his eyes.

“It was more than two hundred years ago, Alaric. You’ve got to let it go.”

“I most certainly do not. Isn’t that one of the perks of being immortal? I can hold a grudge for all of eternity if my prick of a brother deserves it?” He sighs and shakes his head, knowing I won’t be moved from this. Lethimbe buried alive in fifty feet of snow forweeksby his own brother and see if he’s quick to forgive. Ahmed claimed later that it was a harmless prank, but I honestly believe he was trying to kill me.All over a barmaid who found her way into my bed instead of his, I think with a roll of my eyes.

“Goodbye, Bastian,” I say again, hugging him tightly once more time.

“Good luck,” he calls with a laugh as I stride off the dais and through the palace, suddenly desperate to find my…Consort.

Chapter 4

DAHLIA

“Ican’t believe it,” Enid says for the tenth time in as many minutes.

“I know,” I sigh, putting my sketchpads into the large trunk on top of my books and clothes. Apparently new ones will be made and sent to the camp for me, ones befitting a prince’s Consort, I imagine, but I still don’t like the idea of leaving home without anything of my own. I look around my room, the one that, despite having plenty of space in our new home, I still share with my sister as we always have. I’m leaving it forever today. I’ll never lie in the bed across from Enid and talk in whispers well into the night again. I won’t be there when she wakes from nightmares or when she can’t sleep because of storms rolling through.I won’t be here for her.Tears prick my eyes, but they aren’t tears of sorrow. They’re tears of absolute rage, surging hot and bitter in my chest. How had this happened?Whyhad this happened? It doesn’t make sense! And it isn’t fuckingfair!

“I don’t know what he was thinking!” I snap, slamming the lid of the trunk down. “Why would he…He’s so…How could he…UGH!” I kick the trunk several times while I scream in frustration, and then finally sit heavily on top of it with along exhale as the anger drains out of me as quickly as it had come. Enid is there then, wrapping her arms tightly around me, rocking us slowly back and forth.

“It will be ok, Lia,” Enid says quietly. “You’ll be treated like a queen, even within a war camp.” I pull away, scrubbing at my eyes before the tears can fall.

“It’s notmeI’m worried about, Enid.” I search my sister’s eyes. They’re warm brown, like melted chocolate, just like our mother’s had been. I’d gotten our father’s coloring with my green eyes and red hair.My little firebrand, he’d always said with a doting smile. I’d driven our mother crazy with my antics—gods rest her soul—with my lack of “feminine sensibilities,” whatever the hells that means, but da and I have always been thick as thieves.

He hadn’t been surprised that I’d wanted to spend my days beside him at the forge, had never thought me strange or decided it was not something for girls. He taught me everything I wanted to know, let me try and fail and try again. He’d made me strong and fearless and headstrong, just like him, but I am who I am because of my father. I can’t imagine not seeing him every day, not working beside him in the shop, not seeing his eyes shine with pride when I show him some new design or when I best the boys at the tavern in dice.

My chest feels like it’s going to split open, my heart bleeding and broken.

“I know,” Enid says with a smile. “But we’ll be ok, too, you know.” She takes a deep breath. “I know you’ve always felt like you had to take care of me, Lia, and for a long time, you did, but you don’t have to anymore. Let me be the older sister and worry about you for a change. Da and I will both be alright, I promise.”

I let out a long, shaking breath and try to smile. “I know you will. At least we have a cook now and you don’t have to rely on da’s…concoctions.” I wrinkle my nose and Enid pretends tovomit, both of us laughing at the memories of our father’s awful attempts at cooking. Gods bless him, helovesit, but the results are often less than appetizing. In fact, they usually aren’t actually edible at all and Enid and I made games out of finding creative ways to hide the evidence so as not to hurt his feelings. One of the best things about becoming noble was that we inherited Lord Burren’s staff, including Mrs. Drury, the phenomenal cook. She politely, but firmly, told da that she would be taking over the cooking duties from now on when we first arrived and he’d attempted to make something with a chicken that turned out somehow burnt and raw at the same time.

Our laughter slowly fades and Enid sighs.

“It should be me,” she says softly.

“Hey, none of that.”

“It’s true. If I had pure blood, I would have been the one at the Choosing today, not you.” Enid is the oldest by barely a year, so technically she’s right: she should have been the first child put to the Choosing, but when she was young, she fell very, very ill. She was diagnosed with a disease of the blood that, thankfully, was able to be treated, but she would never be eligible to be a Consort because of it. Which is just fine with me. She may be older, but I have always been the one to take care of her. She was so frail for so many years, I always felt so protective, like it was my job to watch over her and make her stronger somehow, pushing my own strength into her by sheer force of will.

So, I’m happy she’ll never have to go through this, that I will be the first and only Clayburn to ever be a Consort, but gods will I miss her. I pull on the end of Enid’s braid until she meets my gaze and, after a few moments of silent communication between us, she gives me a small smile, accepting that there isn’t anything either of us can do. Da always says that the only way forward is forward. So, we’ll move forward and make the best of whatever is to come.

“I’m going to go find da,” I say, standing and brushing the tears from my eyes.

The goodbye with my father is quiet and reserved, and quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done. He’s a big man, his arms and chest bulky and muscled from years at the forge, with a thick beard and braids in his long, red hair, the way of the old Rykhurst warriors. You wouldn’t know by the look of him that he’s as sweet as a kitten, and as gentle as one with everything but the metal in his shop.

I can barely speak, but da seems to know the words I’m trying to say without having to hear them.

“I’ll miss ye too, little firebrand,” he says, voice thick and rough with emotion, his rumbling brogue making me feel safe and warm. “But ye’ll be taken care of, I’m sure of it.” He shucks me under the chin, forcing my eyes upward. “We knew this was a possibility. When I took the title, we knew…”

I let out a rough exhale. “I know. I just…well, I didn’t expect it to ever actually happen is all.”

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