Page 13 of Marked By the Enemy
I marched without direction, past stone urns and silver-tipped hedges, ignoring the guards who stood out of sight. The trial had ended. I had passed. But the feeling hadn’t been one of triumph. The bond had moved without me and taken my will like a handle, steering it toward violence. And I hadn’t stopped it until I saw Darian enter the ring.
As I glared at the trees, flowers, and streams I passed, angry thoughts looped through me like punishment.
I darted down a narrower path. The air was cooler here and shaded by hanging branches with red leaves. A pool waited near the western wall, tucked beneath a stone arch. I’d seen it once before, from above, as round as a scrying mirror, its surface dimpled with floating leaves.
Now I stood at its edge, breathing slower. The still water reflected back a face I didn’t recognize. Not because of the tunic or the bruises blooming faintly across my cheek. What unsettled me was something deeper. There was a memory the water was trying to tell me. The woman, who had had short red hair in the other pool, now had long red braids. She looked younger this time.
I fidgeted, frustrated at not knowing who she was or what this meant. I attempted to speak to her, but she didn’t see me. She smiled into the distance. There was a pressure beneath my skin. A presence I failed to shake. The bond was awake, watching the woman, too.
A koi flicked its tail near the surface. Its movement left a ripple across the reflection, breaking her face into segments. The water glimmered where the fish passed—a shimmer of magic woven into every scale.
Everything in the Moon Court shimmered, even the animals and shadows. It dissolved the image of the woman, though, and now the water reflected only the occasional cloud. I dipped my fingers into the pool. It was warm, faintly electric. A current passed through me that didn’t come from the pool. The bond jerked intensely.
I yanked my hand back.
It wasn’t trying to attack. It wasn’t even rising. But it had noticed my curiosity.
“I’m not yours,” I whispered.
There was a bench facing the pool. It had been carved into the stone wall, half-covered in moss. I sat and let my shoulders fall. I wasn’t tired exactly, but my body was drained. Like something had run through me, borrowed my strength, and left the shell behind to figure out what it meant.
I closed my eyes for a breath. And I saw fire curling around my arms, licking at my collarbone, lighting the arena floor. My heartbeat spiked. I opened my eyes again.
The pool was still. But the bond had flickered. I jumped to my feet, and a breeze caught my hair, tossed it across my face. Somewhere behind the wall, bells rang—three chimes. A signal I didn’t recognize. I turned back toward the palace.
Someone caught my arm. The hand was worn by time and marked by rings. “Hello, Consort. I was wondering if I could have a word.” The Bone Seat councilor stood beside one of the courtyard arches, his robes gray and lined with threadbare fur. A priest in politics. His face was long, his head bald. His eyes looked sickly with white irises.
My gut felt tight, but I didn’t pull away.
“You fought well. Better than expected.”
“You expected me to lose?”
“No. But I expected you to show restraint.”
“That was restraint.”
His mouth curved. “Walk with me.”
I followed.
He led me down a shaded path behind the arena, past empty fountains and low stone benches. No guards trailed us. No nobles hovered.
“Do you know why the bond trials exist?” he asked.
“To test compliance.”
“No. To test character.”
He stopped beside a twisted yew tree. Its branches bent inward like they were listening. “You’re not like the others we’ve seen.”
My breath hitched, and I squinted at him. “You’ve seen others who were bonded.”
“Why yes. Many.”
“I thought it was rare.”
“It’s rare for the bond to choose on its own—normally, the fae decide. Of course, you need a particularly powerful fae in the arts of magic to do that.”
