Page 24 of Marked By the Enemy
The council murmured. The Bone Seat frowned. I lifted my arm and rolled up the sleeve. Showed them the mark inside my wrist. Gasps followed—real ones this time, not court theater. I turned my palm outward and called the tie to reveal itself.
A ripple moved through the air. Silver light spilled from my hand, edged like shattered mirrors. The space behind us morphed, and three images materialized in the air, suspended like smoke. One for each of us.
Mine: the riverbank. Darian’s: a training yard soaked in sun and sand, blood streaked across the dirt, a fae boy with dark hair falling, sand catching on his cheek as he hit the ground. A name floated up from the bond—Ranen. Darian’s older brother. The brother he’d lost. And the third: a pedestal. The tether mark glowing. My hand pressed to the stone.
The Bone Seat rose. “That is enough!”
The images vanished. The bond stilled.
I lowered my arm. “I did not give you fusion. I gave you truth.”
The council broke into whispers again. The Bone Seat’s voice cut through them like a blade. “You used something forbidden.”
“No. I survived it. And it remembered.”
He stepped down two stairs. “You are certain the bond obeys you now.”
“Yes.”
He stared at Darian. “And him?”
“Still himself. Still beside me.” I turned to Darian and held out my hand, giving him steady eye contact. Was the bond making me empathetic toward my enemy?
He took my hand. The link between us agreed as silver light spiralled around our wrists, tying us together.
The Bone Seat dragged his hands over his bald gray head. “You’ve disrupted centuries.”
“Then your centuries were weak.” I pivoted around on my heel and marched toward the exit.
Darian followed. Before we opened the doors, an unfamiliar and echoing whisper came from behind the dais:“You hold no claim.”
Every councilor went still.
We said nothing as we turned back to the doors and walked. The bond stretched behind us like a rope dragged through ash.
When we arrived at the tower, Darian locked the door behind us. I opened the window. Let the wind pull the heat from my skin.
He stood behind me. Silent. Waiting.
Part of me wanted his warmth against my back, and to curl those hands around my waist. I was tired, and I needed a hug. Though a strong assassin, exhaustion overcame me. I longed to cry into his chest.
The voice returned. Something ancient. It whispered without sound,“You must not meddle with the corridor.”
“It says I mustn’t meddle with the corridor,” I said.
Darian stepped beside me. “Corridor? There are plenty of those in the palace. Who said that? The bond?”
“No. The thing beneath the throne. The one that spoke before we left.”
I steamed up the window with my breath and drew the three broken circles on the glass with my fingertip. “It used the bond’s channel. But it’s not part of the bond. It’s something else.”
“So why can you hear it?”
“I think the marks bring memories.”
Darian sat. “What do they remember?”
“Failure. And they’re warning me, warning us.” There was a sinking feeling in my stomach. I closed my eyes and rubbed the middle of my forehead with a finger.
