Page 12 of Marked By the Enemy
The bond coiled tighter the moment I crossed the chalk line. The tether stayed empty. Fearless. Blank. Silent. As if he’d trained himself to disregard my presence.
A clang rang from the far gate when it opened. What stepped through wasn’t human. The thing formed a construct—built of armor andspell-fire, shaped like a warrior. Ten feet tall, faceless, wielding a sword the size of a door. Its presence rippled across the arena.
My heartbeat held steady.
“You are to engage until it breaks,” called the Flame Seat from above.
“Or I do?” I asked without lifting my eyes.
“Either suffices.”
I pondered their gleeful intent to end my life. Surely the prince would die, too. Or perhaps I misjudged, and the prince’s survival hinged on my demise by fae magic.
The construct raised its blade, and I sucked in a quick breath. I shifted my stance, weight balanced. The bond billowed with anticipation, wanting to protect me. It wanted to act and lead. I let the vow-magic ride my focus instead of steering it.
My breath stayed even as the first strike came down. I dodged, rolled, came up swinging. My fist hit the thing’s knee joint. The gloves sparked on impact. The construct reeled, metal groaning under its weight.
The bond purred.
Another strike followed. I slipped around it, clipped its shoulder, and sparks scattered across the ring. But this time, the vow-magic inside me surged without my permission. The bond pressed outward too much and too fast.
I flinched when flame leapt from my fingers. I didn’t intend for that to happen. The construct stumbled, its chest plate blackened.
“Stop,” Darian snapped from the sidelines.
But the bond didn’t stop.
My legs moved without my command, driven by something deeper. I rejected the notion this event unfolded, horrified it proceeded outside of my influence. I struck again, harder. I couldn’t stop.
“Talia!” Darian bounded into the ring, flushed and gasping to control his breath.
This was when I first saw true emotion on his face and the color in his cheeks.
The construct turned toward him.
I blinked. The bond hesitated, and that hesitation gave me enough time to act. I dropped to one knee, grounded myself on the stone, and forced every wild thread of magic back down.
Pain shot through my strained limbs. But I kept pushing through that inverted triangle I imagined in my womb and hips, exhaling the energy down through my thighs and knees, into the ground, lower, deeper, until the power quieted, and the magic coursed into the center of Mother Caldaen. It was a grounding routine taught to me by one of my Boundless masters.
The bond went still.
The construct froze.
I glanced at the Earth seat, who nodded and smirked at me, possibly impressed with how I had grounded the magic.
Then the tester tapped his rod. A red flash. “Trial ends. She passed.”
I rose slowly, every breath a command to stay upright.
Darian crossed the circle toward me. “You have to learn to hold it.”
“I am,” I snapped through clenched teeth. “That’s not a weapon of my choosing.”
“No,” he said. “But it’s one you wear. And that means the binding vow answers to you—or no one.” He turned and walked away.
He didn’t look back, and I hated how much I noticed. I told myself it was better that way. That if he turned around, I wouldn’t know what to do. I followed, breath tight, fingers still tingling from the last flare. Council members did not speak. I was aware of their eyes on my back, sharp as blades.
Midday came quickly, and the sun blazed down, quickly heating the air and filling it with birdsong. I wandered the garden paths, fists tucked into my sleeves, trying to shake the charge still clinging to my skin. The magic had gone quiet,crouching low in my womb like an animal that didn’t need to growl to remind me it had teeth.
