Page 4 of Bonded

“I don’t want him to leave.” The words feel right, even if I’m a little conflicted. Zyran still has saved my life several times, and he has never given me a reason not to trust him.

“Fine.” He looks between us with gritted teeth. “Come inside. It’s cold to be speaking out on the balcony all night. I don’t know about you, but I need a drink to continue this, especially if you are keeping your gargoyle pet, sister.”

Zyran snaps his teeth at his back, and I sigh as he walks away. I look up at Zyran and arch an eyebrow. “Traitor to the throne?”

“I told you I wasn’t a good person.” He runs his fingertips down my arm until his hand finds mine and links our fingers together. “What made you think, in all the time we’ve known each other, that I was anything less than a monster?” He leans in. “We both know you don’t like me because I’m some good Prince Charming type.”

Heat builds in my lower stomach. He isn’t wrong. There has always been something wrong with me because I see red flags as come closer signs. Especially when the red flags look like Zyran. “Are you going to tell me what you did?”

There is something like sadness, almost an aching pain in his eyes as he leans in even closer. “Yes, but not yet. Do you trust me, love?”

I think I’m running out of people I actually know who are good. I’m pretty sure my entire acquaintance list is full of people who would definitely be called morally grey or worse. I should have some better judgement, some deep part of me that warns I shouldn’t trust him, but another part of me just does. I can’t explain it, I don’t even understand it, but there is something deep down that tells me he is on my side. Fucked-up but mine. “I’m not running away screaming, so you can take that as a yes.”

“Shame, I like to hunt you down,” he whispers just for me, making my cheeks burn. “Come on, your delightful brother is waiting.”

“You really don’t like him, do you?” I mutter. I’m not sure what history lies between them, but I can definitely tell it’s messy.

Zyran just smirks as we walk into the room, which is full of expensive dark furnishings and warm lighting. The room itself is beautiful, with dark pillars and gold-lined black-tiled floors. Several massive dark sofas fill the room in the centre, and there’s a fireplace, though it isn’t lit, much to my relief. I’m glad for Zyran’s hand in mine as my brother waves a hand at the sofas. “Sit anywhere you wish.”

He pours three tumblers as we sit down together on the smallest sofa, as far away from the fireplace as I can get. He hands us the tumblers with some shiny red drink. I take it, holding it for all of a second before Zyran picks it out of my hand and takes a long sniff of the drink and then hands it back to me.

My brother mutters something under his breath as he sits down opposite us, sipping on his drink for a while. “I still can’t quite believe you’re sitting here, Meredith.”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Vordain.” The name doesn’t bring any memories like I hoped. “You used to just call me Dain like our parents did. Of course, in public, you must call me King or Vordain.”

I nod, clutching the glass tight. “Tell me what happened the last time you saw me. I need to know, Dain.” It’s weird calling him by his name, especially when I don’t remember him. It’s stranger to have him looking at me with an intense familiarity that siblings just have.

“It’s not an easy night to speak about.” He drinks some more. “I don’t talk to anyone about that night, but considering you’re the only other one who was there, perhaps just this once—why not?” He pauses. “My—no, our—mother died that night.”

“Oh,” I whisper. I wish I could remember her, but I don’t.

“You weren’t meant to come into your power that soon. Usually, we receive our powers in full force around the age of twelve to thirteen. You were eight.” He finishes his drink and puts the glass down, leaning back against the sofa. “We were visiting the Crone Pack, and you weren’t even meant to be on the trip, but you were a pain in the ass and never listened, so you snuck onto the ship and hid until it was too late to take you back. Mother was angry, but there was no changing your mind when it was set.”

“Why was she going to the Crone pack lands?” I ask.

“Our mother was trying to make alliances with them, to help with what is coming, because our father was unsure it was worth the risk to ask their alliance. He couldn’t leave these shores, much like I can’t now. Wolves and oblivion-touched have kept apart for centuries for a reason, and changing that was a risk. Our mother was always the peaceful one, always making trades and deals, while my father was the brute behind her that dealt with any threats. They were adored by our people, and they made everyone’s lives better…until that night. She thought it best to be in alliance, and she demanded to go to the Crone lands for what is coming for us all.”

I want to ask what is coming, but I don’t want to interrupt the story. I do look at Zyran, who is watching and hanging on every word Dain says. “Everything was fine in the beginning. We met with the alpha, and there were talks of peace. Our mother was delighted to have succeeded, and she planned to invite the Crone alpha back to our city and make an agreement. Then you started to come into your power. With Oblivion royals, if we are not bound when our power comes in, we could and likely would destroy cities. Some of us have.”

I think of the mountain range I destroyed, and I gulp. When Tannith died, when my power exploded, there was no control. I couldn’t stop it. Imagine if I was in a city when that happened? “Mother tried to hold you back with her magic, but it was not enough. I wasn’t old enough to be much help.”

I really don’t like where this is going. Zyran must sense my unease as his hand rests across my back, touching me softly. Comforting.

Dain taps his fingers on his empty glass. “Our power has to be bound when we are young and then slowly released over time so that we have full control and don’t accidentally kill people. No child should be expected to be able to control it. Usually there are signs of power coming in, but your power was always predicted to be strong, and you came into it far too soon. You are the youngest royal in history. Our mother only had one priest with us, who only came to see the districts. Priests are very similar to what the wolves have, but they do not answer to the goddesses; they answer to our god instead. Yet we were in the goddesses’ claimed lands, and they were not going to help oblivion-touched royals.”

I nod. So they have a god they follow?

“The one with us was only a trainee, way too new to understand complicated binding spells—someone who would never normally perform the rite. But they had no choice. Your power was ripping through your own body, killing you, and you would have taken down the Crone Pack too. So he performed the rite, but it went wrong. It went so wrong.” He looks into the empty fireplace. “Everything happened so fast. Our mother—I think she used the last of her life to protect you and me. To make sure the spell held and her children were safe. It was a mess, and it all happened so fast.”

He is quiet for a moment.

“I don’t remember much after the rite began. I remember the blast of power throwing me out through the glass window of the apartment, and I was injured. I remember the guards outside picking me up and rushing me away with them, talking about the Crone wolves attacking. I remember them telling me they would come back when it was safe, that everyone was dead inside, that I was the only royal left except for our father, and that I was the only heir. But I knew that you must have still been alive. I was an injured kid, though, and no one listens to kids.” He exhales. “I think there was more going on. I believe we were betrayed at the worst possible time. We were told that the wolves who came in to kill off our family killed you too. I have no proof of this, but the guards who saved me are certain it was no coincidence the room smelt of wolves when they returned and could only find our mother’s body and ashes of the priest.”

“Why leave me alive, then? How did I lose my memories? Why dump me in the human district?” I blurt out.

“I assume something went wrong with the magic of the rite. It was all too much, too fast. Spells like that have to be done perfectly, or there are consequences. You losing your memory was perhaps that consequence.” He shrugs, looking at me now.