Onyx Blood [True North series book 2/3]

“Serin, come here,” Thoridor bellowed, holding out his arm invitingly, “we’re leaving. Now.”

I took a step in his direction. “So you choose him, then?” Aeloria whispered.

“I didn’t choose anyone,” I spat, “No one is staying here, Aeloria. You should have made your rules clear beforehand, if there were any. You can’t expect me to go along with this without any type of warning.”

Aeloria slid of the bed and floated across the room, halting halfway between the males and I.

“Oh, but you knew,” she said, smiling an eerie smile. “You knew I don’t normally let everyone leave here. And yet you chose to come again. And you brought companions.”

I flinched. “I assumed since last time—”

“Dangerous assumption to make,” Aeloria grinned.

“What’s going on?” Warrian asked, as he slowly approached us.

“Stay back,” I whisper-yelled his way, “get out.”

“So the other one,” Aeloria said, and slid across the room.

Fear clawed at my heart. “No,” I yelled, “Aeloria! No!”

Aeloria slowly turned around.

“There must be another way,” I pleaded, “make me another offer, please.”

Aeloria chuckled softly. “Oh, but there is nothing else I want,” she mumbled, “and I have already made an exception. I would choose a male and leave, if I were you.”

Thoridor, who seemed to have put together what was happening, rushed over and grabbed my shoulders.

“Aeloria,” he bellowed, “I forbid you—” “I do not yield to you,”

Aeloria snapped, “I am not your kind. You are not my Prince.”

Warrian ran up to us too. We were now standing in a perfect triangle — Aeloria in one corner, Warrian in another, and Thoridor and I in the last. I ran over and grabbed Warrian’s hand, pulling him to stand with us.

“If you don’t choose, I will,” Aeloria warned me.

“Run,” I whispered, and of course, neither male listened.

But Aeloria did. She charged forward, her hands raised, a ball of golden sunlight in each of her palms.

Her eyes were fixated on Thoridor, and seemed to be lit on fire from within her.

I pushed Warrian toward the door. “RUN,” I said, and I was pretty sure the fierceness in my eyes matched Aeloria’s, because Warrian did. He sprinted toward the door, and yanked it open, but paused in the doorway. I didn’t have time to yell at him to keep going, because Aeloria was now nearly at Thoridor’s throat.

“STOP,” I yelled, and willed her to. I willed her to freeze the way my Ardanian assailants had at the Sorael, and she did. She paused mid-attack, frozen like a perfect statue.

With a single swipe of my hand, I bid Thoridor to move. I slid him across the room toward Warrian, and pushed them both out. Then, I made him grab the door and slam it shut behind him. I turned to Aeloria.

“I may have made a mistake, bringing them here,” I whispered, “but you made one too.” I released my hold on her, and tried to hide the physical toll it had taken on me.

“If you must have one of us, have me. I may not have a lot of meat on my bones, but I suppose that’s the price you pay for springing this ridiculous rule on me.”

Aeloria laughed out loud. “I wasn’t going to eat them, child,” she said, “but look what thinking that I would did to you. You just wielded like you’ve been doing it all your life. And I would wager that you now know who you’d choose, too.”

I dropped my jaw in shock. “Please tell me you didn’t make me think you were going to kill one of them to help me choose,” I uttered, shaking my head in disbelief.

Aeloria’s eyes glimmered darkly. “That wasn’t the primary goal,” she said, “but it did, did it not?”

I turned on my heels, and stomped toward the door, which I now noticed was shaking in its frame with blows from the other side as Thoridor and Warrian attempted to break it down. I grabbed the vine Aeloria had apparently used to hold it in place, and tore it away.

The door flew open and Warrian and Thoridor came tumbling into the room. They each scrambled to their feet, and drew their swords.

“Out,” I commanded, and pushed them both back toward the stairwell. I looked at Aeloria.

“There’s still Shadowroot and Frostthistle in your hair,” I said, “they will drain you like the Waythorn did, over time. I’d take them out, if I were you.”

Then I slammed the door shut behind me and grabbed one of each of the male’s shoulders, guiding them down the narrow stairs.

“What did she do to you?” Thoridor bellowed as he scanned me for injuries.

“Nothing,” I hissed, “never go up there again.”

I looked at Warrian. “That goes for both of you. Never again.”

“Did you just wield her blood?” Warrian asked, and there was a hint of awe in his voice.

“Yes,” I admitted reluctantly, “and it took everything I had in me. I will need some more of that blue stuff Phaedra gave me.”

“That blue stuff,” Thoridor grunted, “was an elixir more potent than the one I take before going to defend our borders. It keeps me awake for days on end.”

I looked him dead in the eye and yawned dramatically. “Well,” I said, “I am tired. Maybe blood wielding takes more energy than… whatever it is that you do.”

Thoridor narrowed his eyes at me, and then picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. The movement was so sudden and unexpected that I crashed face-first into his broad back.

“Ow!” I yelled, and hit his back with my fists. “Put me down, you beast.”

“Yes, keep calling him,” Thoridor growled, “maybe he’ll come out to play.”

I stopped hitting him — not because I was scared of his beast, but rather of Thoridor shifting into it. And even more so the toll it would take on him. Especially after having heard the story of his parents, and having seen what his father looked like now.

Warrian punched Thoridor’s shoulder. “Put her down,” he grunted angrily, “I know it must be hard for you, but you can’t keep touching her. Not while she’s still so vulnerable.”

I knew he was right —I knew it wasn’t fair— and it was probably just the bond talking, but I didn’t want Thoridor to put me down. I wanted to stay close to him — to feel his heartbeat drum against my belly some more.

But then, from the depths of my mind, I was able to dig up the memory of him wrapping his gloved hand around my throat, and asking himself if he’d be able to snap my neck with just one hand — and so I wiggled myself free from his grip. “You still don’t get it,” I whispered to him. “This bond might be holy to you — but it isn’t to me. It means nothing. Please understand.”