Page 15 of The Blood that Binds Us

Pausing to make sure my breath is steady, I answer him. “I have been hiding from Cathal for a long time. Years. Legion is under the impression if they have a bloodwitch fighting on their side, they can bring the entire kingdom down. They captured me several years ago when Cathal tried seizing Scarwood during Ephraim’s reign. He threatened my family—detailing the despicable things he would do to them if I didn’t use my power to aid them. Cos—my sister—she found me before we made it to Blackreach. I didn’t think they would come for me again without the element of surprise, and they didn’t for a long time. But as soon as I let my guard down, for a split second, they struck like the dirty snakes they are, and I found myself their prisoner once more. That was a month ago—I think.” Time has blurred with recent events—maybe a month passed, maybe six of them.

“And what did they plan on doing with you afterwards? Surely they anticipated you turning on them as soon as you saw to our destruction.”

“They overestimate their ability. And underestimate mine.”

“How did Cathal find out what you are?”

“I told him,” I answer sheepishly. “We were… we were together… for a short time.”

“He betrayed you,” he states knowingly.

I nod. “I thought I could trust him. He and his men came for me that same night and took me to their camp. That’s where I met Ileana, which brings me to a question of my own: what the hell is she doing here?”

“Ileana is my Black Hand.”

I choke on a laugh, one entirely void of humor. “She’s serving the kingdom? You must be joking.” Ileana hates Legion more than anyone I know, and after the torture they put her through, I’m sure that loathing is as much a part of her as her blood and bones. But working for the kingdom? That is as much Ileana’s style as outerwear is on Zorina. “How did she even get here? She was still in that camp the last I saw her.”When I left and didn’t go back for her.

“She’s here now, and you will respect her as the Hand to the throne. The how and why isn’t of your concern.”

Curiosity pecks into my brain like a chickadee gobbling up seeds, but I push it aside. I need to speak to Ileana herself if I want the real truth anyway—hertruth.

“When you ran from me the other day, where were you heading?”

“Home.” I look at him cautiously before continuing. “I have a family.”

“Is your family also—?” he trails off as ifbloodwitcheswas too dirty a word for his mouth.

“No. My parents disowned me when I was young, when they discovered what I am. They didn’t have the guts to kill me themselves, so they thought they’d let starvation or illness do it for them. I was very lucky. Someone found me and took me in. I live remotely with her and a few others, away from unnecessary risks.”

“What kind of risks?”

I study him closely when I answer. “They are transcendents.”

He arches a dark eyebrow. “You were raised by shifters?”

“Yes. Ephraim and your father’s reign made it too dangerous to live in the cities, so they kept to themselves. Me being what I am, I also preferred to sleep away from prying eyes. Our arrangement worked.”

“Apart from where Cathal found you?” he asks with a glimmer of sarcasm.

“I made an egregious error,” I grumble through clenched teeth.

Sin folds his arms across his chest and begins to pace in front of the cell. “Why haven’t you escaped? Legend says when a bloodwitch makes their first kill, the power they gain makes them crazy, consumed with bloodlust and power and sex. You could have killed all of us by now.”

I will my cheeks not to flush at the mention of the caster’s high. Magic is an aphrodisiac for most mages—the more power they expel, the stronger the urge. When a bloodwitch kills and consumes that kind of power, it’s rumored to unleash a desire that trumps all other feelings, except maybe the need to keep killing. Since I’ve never taken a life, I haven’t experienced it, but I have felt twinges of a… heat… when I would spar with Eldridge or find myself occupied with violent thoughts. Judging from the flutters of warmth I’ve felt when merely flexing my magic, I don’t doubt the rumors are riddled in truth.

I feign a yawn as if his questions are boring me. “Because if I had killed you or anyone else, Blackheart, I don’t know what the magic would do to me. I would prefer I didn’t turn into a murdering lunatic.”

He stops pacing and peers down at me, his eyes widening slightly. “I wassecondsaway from ending your life and that was before I knew what you were. You slit your own throat by not escaping.”

I lean my head against the wall behind me. “I’m aware.”

“How did your parents learn what you are?”

I keep my gaze fixed on the opposite wall when I answer. “The smell of blood… it appeals to me. But I’ve never killed anyone, and I’ve only ever hurt those that hurt me first.”

The image of my mother’s face when she learned what I was flashes in my mind. When I scratched her arm deep enough to draw blood, the disgust and disbelief that twisted her mouth as she saw thewanton mine.

He loops his arms through the bars again and leans forward. “There is a gala being held here tomorrow. There will be some families in attendance whose support I count on very much. I would like you to attend and listen in on them.”

---