Page 27 of Bound By Blood
That question burns brightest of all, because beneath the political and cultural considerations lies a simpler truth: the heat that flowed between us felt more real than anything I've experienced in thirty years of careful, controlled existence.
Three days to decide if I'm brave enough to find out where that heat might lead.
6
DROKHAN
Sleep eludes me.
The council's words echo through my skull like hammering on anvil steel:spirit-bond, formal binding, three days. But underneath their political weight lies something far more dangerous. The memory of her hands on my fevered skin, the way her eyes widened when power flowed between us.
Dangerous territory, old fool.
I rise from my sleeping furs and pace the chief's chamber, bare feet silent on stone worn smooth by generations of restless leaders. Through the narrow window, moonlight spills across the stronghold's terraced levels like molten silver. The night air carries mountain pine and the distant sulfur whisper of the healing springs.
Three days until she must choose. Three days to let politics and tradition dictate what my heart already knows.
Since when did you consult your heart about anything?
The question stings because it's fair. For twenty years, I've led through calculated decisions and iron discipline. Personal desires get subordinated to clan needs. Individual connection matters less than collective survival.
But tonight, those principles feel like chains.
I strap on my ceremonial torque and shoulder harness, not bothering with full armor. If I'm going to make a fool of myself, I'll do it honestly. The passage between my chamber and hers winds through the stronghold's heart, past sleeping quarters where my warriors rest between patrols.
What are you planning to tell her? That you felt something unprecedented when she touched you? That you want to explore that connection regardless of political consequences?
The truth, apparently. Even if it complicates everything.
Her chamber's entrance lies behind a curtain of woven mountain grass, private but not secured. I announce myself with a soft knock against the stone doorway.
"Lady Eirian? Are you wakeful?"
"Chief Drokhan." Her voice carries no surprise, as if she expected this visit. "Please, enter."
The oil lamp burns low, casting her chamber in amber shadows. She sits cross-legged on her cot, still wearing the healing robes from this afternoon but with her hair unbraided, falling in chestnut waves around her shoulders. The journal lies open across her knees.
"You couldn't sleep either."
"Too many questions." She closes the journal and sets it aside. "Too many choices that feel impossible to make rationally."
Impossible to make rationally.There's the crux of it. Reason argues for maintaining distance, protecting both our positions until the council reaches its decision. But reason didn't create the heat that flowed between us beside that steaming pool.
"I have a proposal," I say, settling onto the chamber's single chair. "Something that might provide clarity."
"I'm listening."
"There's a place within the grotto system that few know about. A moonlit spring hidden beneath a vine-cradled arch, where the mountain's heart-stone meets surface water. The elders use it for vision quests and spiritual consultation."
She studies my face, searching for hidden meaning. "You're suggesting we seek guidance from the springs themselves."
"I'm suggesting we explore what happened between us today, away from political pressure and cultural expectations. If the connection was merely circumstantial, the neutral setting will reveal that truth. If it represents something deeper..."
"We'll discover that as well." She rises from the cot, graceful despite obvious exhaustion. "When would we go?"
"Now. The moon reaches full brightness at midnight, which grants the spring its greatest spiritual potency. And privacy, no one else will venture there during the dark hours."
No one else will witness whatever passes between us, whether profound spiritual alliance or embarrassing miscalculation.
