Page 51 of Marked By the Enemy
“And you—” I pointed at his chest. “You’re still clinging to the version of yourself they raised. The prince. The Pure-Blood. The one who calls humans weak unless they die for him.”
His mouth opened. I cut him off. “Maybe it would’ve been better if you kept calling the Bone Seat yourDaddy.”
He turned so fast the firelight caught the sharp line of his cheekbone. “I never called him that.”
He gritted his teeth and looked past me. His fists were curled at his sides. “I don’t even remember my father’s face. I fight with myself every night before I sleep, trying to know what’s true. What was planted? What was taken? I was told they turned to ash when we bonded—my parents. But I don’t remember themburning. I don’t remember them at all. I only remember my brother’s blood. His screams.”
His voice broke again. Everything in his face hardened, but I could still hear the ache in it, the fracture beneath the steel. He turned and stalked off toward the woods.
I should’ve felt pity. But all I could think of was how easy it had been for him to dismiss the rest of us. Grief didn’t make him kind. It made him cruel in the quiet. I stood there, too angry to follow. Too angry to care.
So what if he didn’t remember? I had to bury Mom with no one to help me. I had to scrape a grave for the boy I loved before I could say goodbye. And Dad? He had walked out a year before with dry eyes and never looked back. He left us. Left me trying to understand why.
So no, I didn’t pity the prince. Not when he made it clear—he still saw us as less. The marked ones didn’t speak. They hummed. The same sound the corridor made when it opened. And I knew—we weren’t waiting for the Bone Seat anymore.
The heat hadn’t broken, even by sunset. The sky hung thick with haze and the buzz of mosquitoes. No moon rose—too early. The full moon had been two nights ago. Now it lingered somewhere behind the hills. We stood watch on the battlements above the Keep.
Darian was beside me, arms braced on the stone edge. We hadn’t spoken since the argument, and the silence between us hadn’t softened—though we stood side by side. The mark on his wrist shimmered once.
And then we saw them. Twenty or more moved along the tree line. Women with baskets, men with hunting knives, children trailing behind. A few carried bundles, others brought nothing. They came slow but steady, eyes scanning the crumbling walls.
“They think you called them,” Darian said.
“Maybe I did,” I said. “Without meaning to.”
His expression didn’t change, but I saw the sharpness in it. The worry he wouldn’t name.
As they got closer, I leaned forward over the stone. “Come to the courtyard! We’ll answer what we can!”
Darian didn’t wait for them to reply. He turned and led the way down the stairs. I followed.
The villagers had gathered by the half-collapsed forge, faces flickering in firelight. Some hung back. Some stared. A few children clung to their mothers. One boy with patchy curls clutched a sling of dried herbs.
A broad-shouldered man stepped forward, jabbing a finger toward my chest. “Look at my hand and arm! These aren’t natural. We been havin’ dreams we don’t remember wakin’ from. My wife muttered names in her sleep. I’ve seen yer in my dreams. Yer face. Yer circles. What kind of spell is this?”
A younger woman stepped beside him, eyes narrowed. “You a witch?”
I didn’t answer. Darian did.
“She’s bonded,” he said. “Marked by ancient vow-magic.”
The woman spat close to his boot. “What even is vow-magic? Are you saying she summoned us?”
“No,” I said. “The bond echoed. You answered.”
Another man—older, thin-limbed, face leathered by the sun—lifted his hand. His palm bore a faint curve. A half-circle, hidden in the crease. “I got this three nights ago. I woke with it. Dreamed of a mirror. Shattered.”
Gasps broke out in the crowd. A woman covered her mouth. A child whispered, “Me too.”
I swallowed. “You aren’t cursed. You carry no mark from me. This is old magic—older than kingdoms. But it’s lost its reins. The Bone Seats shaped it to serve. Now it’s remembering what it was before. I escaped the Moon Court and set it free.”
“You ain’t a fae!” a woman in the back shouted.
“No, and l went to the Moon Court from the Borderlands to killthe prince.”
Murmurs spread. One man cursed. Another shouted, “So it’s true what they say—that you’re from the wilds, that you’re bringing ruin!”
Darian moved fast. His voice cracked like a whip. “She’s not bringing ruin. The Bone Seats did that already.”
