Page 33 of The Blood that Binds Us

Our horses pound the ground beneath their hooves, sending red dirt flying around us like powdered flames. The main road that winds through Aegidale is open and vast, only the fiery glow of the horizon for company and the occasional horses and carts of traveling tradesmen. If we follow the road right, it leads to Emberbourne, the city of steel and wealth. High lords and ladies and the wealthiest of merchants reside there, the city notorious for their production of kingdom steel. Their blacksmiths make most of the weapons and armor for the Black Art’s armies.

We veer away from the smell of coal dust and iron and ride towards the dark green canopy of the Autumnhelm woods. Sin and I are mostly quiet as we ride parallel to the forest, the variety of greens and browns and the occasional pop of color from the local flora a stark contrast to the dusty red-tinged soil beneath us.

My heart pitter-patters in time with the clip-clopping of hooves as we gain distance towards the secluded cabin that has been my home for years. We pass a few more traders pulling wagons as they ride towards Emberbourne and her sister city to the west, Suncove—their carts likely loaded with an array of spices and furs to sell and barter with. Legion wouldn’t dare travel a road so visible. They cling to seclusion—woods like Autumnhelm that better disguise their numbers, their assets. It was in those woods I met Ileana, and in those woods I left her.

* * *

It’s a couple hours past dusk when we reach Innodell and finally cross into the forest. Our cabin isn’t far from the perimeter—enough distance away from the city to remain secluded, but close enough we can ride in for work each morning. I nod to Sin when we come to the large red oak tree that marks the outskirts of our property. We dismount and lead our horses on foot the rest of the way in. With my altered appearance, whoever is home right now will already be alarmed by approaching strangers. No need to induce more panic by riding in on horseback.

Weaving our steeds around the thick trunks now spaced farther apart, we approach the quaint shelter I’ve called home for a little over a decade, my own small slice of comfort in this unforgiving world. Rising from the plush green clearing and surrounded by sky-hugging trees, the two-story log cabin welcomes me home. Animal pelts hang in the square windows, the furs offering protection from precipitation, or on nights like these, the chilled breeze that swooshes through the trees like a raptor diving for its prey. The high-pitched roof is a deep green and compliments the red tones of the cedar logs it shadows. A wooden porch wraps arounds the two visible sides of the cabin, a few white chairs and several plants in decorative pots adorning the space.

Home.

The front door cracks open, and a head of golden locks and brown eyes set deep in a boyish face peer out hesitantly from the threshold.

“Galen!”

He looks at me warily, and his mother appears behind him, clutching his shoulders and pulling him back in the house. Zorina steps onto the porch and closes the door behind her. “This is owned property,” she says, eyeing Sin and me. Her hand subtly moves to the back of her waist, but I don’t miss the movement, and I’m certain Sin doesn’t either. I have no doubt she has a blade tucked into the waistband of her yellow pants.

“It’s okay, Zorina. I know this sounds crazy, but it’s me—it’s Wren.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and she angles herself as if trying to get a better look at me.

“I was captured by Legion and forced to surrender to the kingdom during an attack on one of their outposts. I made a bargain with…” I clear my throat, “with the Black Art, to return so I could let you know I’m okay, and to warn you. Legion is coming for you, Zorina, for all of you, because I refused to help them. This,” I gesture towards myself, “is a glamour in case we crossed paths with any Legion soldiers.”

Her tan skin blanches as she tries to make sense of my words. The arm at her back begins to relax but flexes again as her eyes shift to Sin. “Who is he, then?”

“This is Roarke,” I answer without missing a beat. “The Black Art required I be escorted. It was part of our agreement.”

Sin dips his head in greeting and offers a polite enough smile that he promptly wipes from his face the second she looks back to me.

“A glamour?” she repeats, lifting her chin slightly and looking down at me over her nose, her eyes still searching for a breach in the illusion.

I take a step closer, and Sin shuffles forward at the same time, keeping himself perfectly aligned with me.He really is attuned to my movements.

“Yes. You can ask me anything, and I’ll answer it for you so you know it’s me. Anything at—”

“What’s going on?” the burly red-haired male asks, appearing behind Zorina, standing a foot taller than his sister.

She informs Eldridge of our exchange, and he fixes his light gray eyes on me. “Wren?” The ring of hope in the way he says my name shatters my heart, and I can’t hold back the tears that rush from my eyes as I nod. Eldridge squeezes around his sister and barrels towards me, opening his huge muscular arms for me, and I dive into them, letting him lift me off the ground and spin me in a circle before setting me back on my feet. He holds me at arm’s distance and assesses me for damage before leveling his stare with mine, all relief gone from his face.

“This is really you?”

I nod and wipe away the spilled tears with the back of my hand, too warmed by Eldridge’s embrace to care that I showed weakness in front of Sin.

“Then whose guts am I spilling?”

A laugh escapes me despite him asking the question in earnest. I tug at the long red beard he keeps braided into a rope, hanging so low it almost grazes his navel. “No one’s, not right now anyway.”

He looks over his shoulder at Zorina and waves her forward. “It’s alright, sister. I smell the magic on her. And even if I didn’t, that smile can only belong to Wren,” he says, turning back to me.

I steal a glance at Sin who’s been silent at my side, and Eldridge tracks the movement. The smile vanishes from his face as he steps away from me and unknowingly squares up with the Black Art, their oversized chests almost touching. I’ve never met anyone as large as Eldridge before—his wide shoulders sit above a barrel chest, and his stocky build and muscular arms would have one thinking he threw mules around for sport. His gift of transcendence aside, Eldridge is pureanimal.Where Eldridge’s build is wide and brawny, Sin’s is leaner and more athletic.

“So, you’re the Black Art’spet?” he asks in a low breath.

Eldridge has always struggled to keep his temper leashed and is the main reason disguising Sin’s identity was necessary. One look at the kingdom’s leader at my side and Eldridge would have shifted and tried tearing Sin’s heart from his chest. Attack first, ask questions later. But I suspect Sin isn’t the type to offer second chances and would put my friend down without a second’s hesitation. Which would be bad for two reasons: Eldridge is my best friend, and I would then have to assassinate the Black Art.

Sin doesn’t so much as flinch from Eldridge’s closeness but meets his eyes with a hardened stare of his own. “It is my privilege to serve His Grace. And as a member of the royal court, I suggest you watch your tongue.” His tone is calm, but his arms are rigid at his sides like he’s preparing to defend himself should Eldridge swing at him.

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