Page 31 of The Blood that Binds Us

“If we leave soon, we can get there by nightfall,” I answer, pulling back the bumpy peel of the fruit. And thank the goddess for that because the thought of camping with the Black Art again turns my morning breakfast of bannock and eggs to lead in my stomach. A servant had our morning meals already prepared and waiting for us in the kitchen when I came downstairs this morning. The generous helping of grains and protein will help fuel us for the long ride ahead, and the salted meats, array of breads, nuts and other jarred foods Sin shoves into the bag will hold us over until we arrive.

He buttons the saddle bag closed, kicks the pantry door shut behind him, and swipes the twin glass vial from the table. Popping the lid open with a thrust of his thumb, he brings it to his nose and inhales gingerly. “Mmm. I only hope it tastes as decadent as it smells,” he says with a smile that is pure mischief.

I wasn’t sure what his demeanor would be towards me this morning given our physical altercation last night, but he merely greeted me with a glance when I found myself in the kitchen, slid the potion across the table at me, and began raiding the oversized pantry.As sunny as usual, then.

Sin motions with his chin for me to pick up my matching tonic. I open the lid and dare a sniff, then immediately hold the bottle at arm’s length as I turn my head over my shoulder, a shuddering cough shaking free. It smells earthy and foul, dirt and shit with a hint of something floral, but I can’t place it. Like cheap perfume that was left sitting out in the stables on a balmy summer afternoon. “That is revolting,” I say, turning back to eye the strange liquid.

“Bottoms up.” He throws his head back, guzzling down the thick purple substance, and slams the vial onto the table. He points to the orange with a long finger and waves towards himself, his other hand a fist against his lips as if forcing himself to keep the contents down. I quickly hand the now peeled orange to him, and he bites into it, grimacing as he chews the sweet fruit. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and nods towards the bottle I still hold, swishing the purple potion around. “Down with it, then.”

Pinching my nose closed with my thumb and finger, I bring the tonic to my lips and dump it down my throat. Immediately, I reach for the orange and sink my teeth into its juicy flesh, focusing only on the notes of sweet citrus on my tongue and not on the other heinous flavors coating my mouth. I look back to Sin who appears to have collected himself and wait a sec—

“I thought you said it was instantaneous,” I say, noting his unaltered appearance.

“It is. I made sure Cassius crafted it so you and I keep our likeness to each other.”

“You mean everyone else will see us differently now, except for us?”

“Precisely. Cassius is waiting for us at the stables to confirm it worked the way he intended, but I am willing to wager you and I look nothing like ourselves to the rest of the world.”

I consider his words, holding out my arms in front of me, noting they don’t look any different. I don’tfeelany different either. “Why did you instruct him to spell it that way?”

Sin slings his saddle bag over his shoulder, and grabbing my own, I follow him outside through a door in the back of the kitchen, likely a private entrance for the staff.

“I may not have known you for long, but long enough to learn the subtleties of your movements. Had your appearance changed, I’m not sure if that would have affected your facial expressions and body language.”

I halt in the stone path leading to the stables. “Youwhat?” It shouldn’t surprise me he has been studying my movements. Sin has probably spent his entire life deciphering lies and weeding out enemies of the throne. Enemies of his father and Ephraim, and now his own. But still, the thought of him making notes of my patterns to use against me is unnerving.

He cuts his steps also and turns to face me. “Knowing your enemy is synonymous with survival. I wouldn’t think I’d need to explain that to a bloodwitch.”

I scowl and shake my head, my braid swinging side-to-side down my back, though I’m not sure what my hairreallylooks like to everyone else. “Ever the strategist,” I grumble.

“This way, should you tighten the lines of that pretty mouth again, I’ll know you’re about to strike me. Which I’ll remind you, you’ve done three times now. May I suggest we not go for the fourth? I’m not sure how much longer I can cage my temper.” He turns and continues walking towards the stables, and my black leather boots unglue themselves from the path a second later.

“Choking me against a wall is caging your temper?”

He ignores my question, and we walk the rest of the way to the stables in silence, the clacking of our leather soled riding boots against the ground the only sound between us. The faintest glow of daybreak warms the sky while the crisp morning air of early spring, still edged in winter’s ice, nips at my cheeks.

Two horses, already fitted with saddles and bridles, neigh softly as we enter the dimly lit stables. One is a dapple-gray mare, its mane a vivid white with charcoal tips, and a matching tail braided in a similar style to my own. The other is a light tan, the shade of its velvety coat similar to that of the sandbars that stretch along the eastern border of Innodell. Its ebony mane rivals the mare’s for beauty, and its long tail gently flicks behind it, unbound. I turn to Sin, my mouth falling open at the realization.He didn’t.

“Did you have them styled in our image?”

“They are modeled after your true appearances, yes. His Grace has an affinity for dark humor.”

I spin to face the voice behind me. Cassius emerges from a supply closet and slaps his hands together, as if ridding them of hay dust. I look back to Sin. “Really? You insist on tagging along, forcing us to drink those nasty tonics to disguise our identities, just to have our horses styled in our likeness?”

He shrugs and moves to secure his saddle bag to the large brown steed, but not before I glimpse the smirk on his mouth.

“I can’t believe you would do something so risky and—”

“Enough. No one is going to make the realization.” He reaches for the saddle bag looped over my arm, and I let him take it.

“You are insufferable, do you know that? For someone who acts like they’ve never laughed at a joke in their life, you sure have a twisted sense of humor.”

Attaching my bag to the light-colored mare, Sin glances to Cassius still lingering just outside the closet. “How do we look?”

“Marvelous, Your Grace. You wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

I study Sin carefully, letting my eyes drift in and out of focus, searching for a weak spot in the glamour, but his image never falters. He looks as he always has, except he is dressed more casual today, given we are in for a full day’s ride. He wears a fitted black shirt with silver threading along the chest pocket, dark trousers, and a twin set of swords strapped in an X pattern on his back.So much for blending in…

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