Page 10 of The Blood that Binds Us

Sin reaches for the buttons on his tunic.

I clear my throat. “Are you going to undress in front of me?”

He makes a spinning motion with two of his fingers, signaling for me to turn around. “You don’t have to watch. Unless you want to.”

I sneer at his lazy grin and turn my back to him, sitting in the blanket of tall grass. Water splashes softly behind me as he wades in and begins to wash himself. I pull one of the cigar-shaped flowers to my nose and inhale its marshy aroma, the earthy smell a reminder of home. A home I may never see again thanks to Sin, his kingdom, and the godsforsaken Legion that spiraled me into this mess.

“What are you going to do with me when we return?” I ask.

“Despite my attempt to be fair with you, witch, you lied to me andassaultedme.”

“You would have arrested me on the spot—you cannot fault me for defending myself.”

“I havekilledmen for less.”

“Then why am I still breathing, Blackheart?” I should probably stop antagonizing him, but his superiority complex coats my tongue with bile.

“You’re of better use to me alive—for now. I cansmellthem on you—filthy, rebellion trash. You’re harboring their secrets. You can either share them willingly, or I can rip them from your tongue myself. It’s your choice, witch.”

“I. Told. You—I’m not working with them,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Then who?”

I whirl around to bark my response, but the sight of the Black Art, water dripping from the ends of his coal black hair and trailing down the hard planes of his chest, leaves the words swollen in my throat. Despite the vulnerability that comes with being exposed, he is more intimidating without his clothes. Sin may possess superior magic, but he isn’t underestimating the power of a physical fight either. His bare chest is broad and defined, his stomach sculpted by years of swordsmanship all the way down to where the water ripples above his groin.

Being Dusaro’s son, he would have fought in the war with Baelliarah, slitting men’s throats in battle before most boys could properly slit a deer’s for supper. During Ephraim’s reign, transcendents fled to our closest neighbor in an attempt to escape the prejudices thrust upon them. Baelliarah welcomed them with grace, but when Ephraim learned what they were doing, Aegidale invaded and fought for the return of the shifters, unwilling to risk that Baelliarah was using them to pad their own armies in preparation to attack our island. One glance at Sin’s arms confirms he could easily overpower me in physical combat should he decide to get friendly with the iron again.

I raise my eyes to meet his, his irises the same shade as the lush carpet of algae growing on the river rocks and appearing almost reflective in the moonlight. “I. Work. For. No. One.”

His stare hardens. “My father will never believe that.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing your father isn’t the Black Art,” I snap.

“Remind me ofyourfather’s name again,” he challenges, calling me on my lie from earlier. I don’t answer but hold his stare as he searches both my eyes. “I thought so.”

“I saved your life.”

“And that’s theonlyreason I haven’t killed you yet. Now unless you want to be plagued with filthy thoughts about me, witch, I suggest you turn around so I can dress. It’s your turn to bathe—you stink.”

My eyes hurt from how far back I roll them, but I turn and listen as the rushing water makes way around him as he wades to land and dresses. I don’t comment on the detail he let slip—my possible knowledge of Legion secrets is not the only reason he let me live. Stopping that arrow from penetrating his cold, brutal heart must have plucked a string on it after all.

He tells me when he’s clothed, and I gather the skirts of my dress in my hands. Peering over my shoulder to make sure he is looking away, I slip it over my head and toss it on the bank before dipping a toe in the water. Gooseflesh erupts on my arms and legs like an infectious blight as I step in deeper, the gelid water wringing the warmth from my veins. Being a head shorter than Sin, the water clothes me to the tops of my breasts. I shake my braid loose and lean back so it unravels into the rushing water, letting the river cleanse it of dirt and debris.

I use the silence to rack my thoughts for a plan. Now that I am tethered to him, if I make the decision to run, it is a lifetime sentence. How long will Cosmina and the others wait for me to return before they come looking, risking themselves for the sake of my freedom? If I manage to slip away from Sin, I could send word to my family to keep them from looking for me—maybe leave a note at the inn for Cosmina—but spending the remainder of my life fleeing from dark corners to abandoned alleys doesn’t seem like a life worth living. I need more time.

With a final wring of my hair, I deem I’m as clean as I’m going to get and glance back to Sin before turning around, finding his near reflective eyes burning a hole into my back.

I slap the water like one might smack a horse’s behind, sending a wave of bitingly cold spray towards him. “Don’t watch!”

He sidesteps the assaulting water with ease and crosses his arms against his chest. “The last time I lost sight of you, you made me chase you half the day. I’m not in the hunting mood tonight, witch.”

“I also wasn’t tethered to you with your dirty spell,” I hiss. “And unlessyouwant to be tested with less than pious thoughts about me, I suggest you turn around.”

Not so much as a flicker of amusement crosses his face before he spins on his heels and stares out into the darkened woods. Careful of the loose river rocks beneath my bruised and swollen feet, I trudge towards the bank and step onto dry land. I pluck my dress from the ground and bunch the fabric together to step into the skirts and—what is that?

Inked into the skin along my left hip bone is a small black heart. I press my fingers against the design—its lines too elegant and delicate to symbolize something so cruel, but there it sits, unassuming on my body as if it has been there forever—Blackheart’s black heart.

“YOU BRANDED ME!” I knew the tethering spell bound us together by magic, but to physicallymarkme—my fingers curl at my sides, and not caring that I’m naked, I shove my hands against his back.

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