Horrible, throbbing agony dragged me from my dreamless sleep, and it took a moment to orient myself to my surroundings. The familiar canopied bed, the dark wood of my mother’s vanity, and even the sunlight that spilled into the room was familiar. It mocked me. As I lay there, hot tears slid towards my temples, running down my ears to soak into my hair and pillow.

I’d failed.

I shifted my weight to find that my hand was restricted by bandages. The source of my pain. I tried to flex my left hand, and was vaguely aware of something small and hard in my palm that prevented me from doing more than twitching my fingertips. The longer I was awake, the more aware I was of how much my head hurt, and how sore my body was.

I failed and committed treason.

Tentatively, my right hand probbed at my body and face, taking stock of what condition I was left in. My chin was scabbed from where it’d scrapped against the road, and my head ached from the impact of being thrown around. Nothing else appeared to be damaged. Well, except for the clothes I’d been caught in. They were dirty and torn. Dirt and leaves still clung to the fabric I’d been left in.

I failed and I’ll never see Alexia again.

Someone had brought me back to Hillcrest to face the consequences for it.

My eyes drifted across the room. I’d been so careful. The room looked as it did before I’d left—no, it wasn’t. On top of the vanity, the color red caught my eye, and I forced myself up against the weight of defeat to get a better look. Red petals had caught the sunlight, and it took a moment to realize that it wasn’t just one flower, but two different stems.

An azalea for fragility.

A begonia as a warning.

New tears welled in my eyes as frustration and disappointment poured out of me in loud ragged gasps, as my chest heaved with grief, and fear. I was in danger, and I wasn’t strong enough to stop it. My gasps turned into wails that echoed through the manor like a banshee for all the house to hear. I refused to look at the flowers again.

The sun had set long before I was finally summoned downstairs. Daniel, the steward, looked guilty and uncomfortable meeting my eyes as he led me to my father’s study. He opened the door and ushered me into the dimly lit room, looking as relieved as I felt, that the duke was temporarily absent. I stumbled weakly to the couch, and Daniel shut the door to the foyer behind me. The fire in the hearth was the only light in an otherwise dark room.

I trembled as I awaited my fate. The fire crackled as the wood popped. The clock that sat on my father’s desk ticked louder with every second that passed. Soon, seconds turned into minutes. It felt like hours. The pain in my hand became harder and harder to ignore the longer that I went without a distraction.

A door shut from outside the study, and muffled conversation drifted its way through the walls. Orders accompanied with the frantic scrambling of feet rushed out in the foyer. My body tensed at the voice. The anticipation was so much worse here than in my bedroom.

Heavy boots marched up to the door before it opened.

“—I want three times the original agreement price. Make sure that it’s drawn up immediately. I want it ready by morning.” The duke didn’t so much as glance my way as he passed the couch and headed straight toward his desk.

“It shall be done, Your Grace.” Daniel said with a bow, shooting me a pitying glance before shutting the door.

Shuffling through a small stack of papers, my father didn’t look up at me when he finally addressed me.

“I hope that you enjoyed your little stunt this morning, Daelyn. Your hand will certainly serve as a reminder of it for many years to come.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Is it... broken?”

He chuckled, actually chuckled before answering.

“Yes. Quite broken actually. It’s a shame that essencebound healers are so rare on this side of the Emerald Sea.” He replied.

I tried to keep my voice even, wishing I could better ignore the pulsing in my hand.

“There’s a healer, they should have arrived in Astalia by now. Alexia’s brother sent for one two weeks ago. We can send for them—” I started.

“It’s a shame that it won’t be properly mended.” The duke interrupted, dismissing the idea entirely. The throbbing seemed to increase at the admission.

“But, why would you not send for one?” I asked, alarmed.

“Because,” he continued. “This was not just an impromptu decision that you made, Daelyn. Oh no, you’ve been planning this... this...” He waved his hand in frustration, struggling to find the right word. “This rescue attempt for weeks.” He spat the word “rescue” like it was the vilest thing he’d ever had to utter. Finally, his piercing red eyes met mine, burning with rage.

I shrank back against the cushion at his intensity.

“Did you think that I would not notice the missing jewels from your mother’s collection? Your blatant attempts to undo your maid’s contract?” He pulled open a drawer to pull out a wrinkled piece of parchment, waving it aggressively at my face. “Did you not think to intercept the receipt, where you used my name to secure horses on my behalf?!”

His voice continued to rise in anger as he reached into the drawer again, pulling out my coin purse, testing the weight of it before hurling it against the mantle. I cried out as coins exploded across the room, ricocheting against the floor, and falling into the flames.

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“I’m sorry, I just wanted to save her—”

“If you’re going to lie using my name, at least do it right and cover your tracks!” He roared. “Did you honestly think I would not have noticed your absence? That you could have left without any consequences?” Unscrewing his ink bottle to aggressively dip his quill into the black liquid, the duke didn’t wait for me to answer. “What would you have done when you realized that no horses were waiting for you, hm? Would you have attempted to walk?!”

Tears streamed down my face. My silence was answer enough.

My father paused his writing to lean forward, his voice dangerously calm. “Do you really think that I would not track you down and bring you back?”

“I am nothing to you!” I couldn’t stop myself from shouting. “I have no magic, no prospects, nothing! You never paid any attention to me, you wouldn’t have noticed for weeks!” Years of frustration burned in my throat, and my voice cracked. “I saw the chance to start over, and I wanted it. I could have had it!”

Silence descended, heavy over the room as we stared at one another.

We both knew I was wrong, I couldn’t have had it. It had all been for nothing. I'd thought that I had been calculating and clever, but instead I’d been the opposite… stupid and sloppy.

Suddenly, a memory dawned on me. A memory of Caspian telling me, “You think you’ve covered your tracks, but desperation makes even the best of us… predictable.” Heat flamed my cheeks in anger. Oh gods, he’d known. He’d known, and he’d told the duke everything.

I tried not to cower from my father, breaking the silence by asking the question that plagued my dreams. “Why did you bring me back?”

My father stood up and rounded the desk, taking the five steps it took to reach me to grab me roughly by the chin.

“You are a bargaining piece, and you are mine to bargain with.” He hissed as he dug a nail into the fresh scab. .

“I’m not a piece, I am your daughter.” I replied, my voice slightly breaking as I struggled to maintain control. I wanted to shriek. To take the heartbreak that was cutting through my chest and force it into this man who couldn’t care less.

“My father made sure that you would never truly be my daughter.” He seethed, his nail beginning to break through the scab, causing fresh blood to gather on my chin.

I whimpered in pain.

“You are lucky you have any value left at all.” He shoved my face away. “The Bridal Path is a reminder of the union between our two countries. What you attempted to do was treason. If you had succeeded, the Cassemirs would have ordered your execution. Upon learning your identity, they would have stripped Astalia from House LeMont.” His quill scratched against the parchment. “Even a failed attempt is punishable by death. You knew that.”

“But they wouldn’t do that to a noble—”

“They can, Daelyn! Our house is all but banished from the Empire! You set off the wards on the procession and then you were caught!”

“But they didn't know who I was!” The memory of being forced off the path, and what almost happened in the forest was nauseating.

“Be silent, Daelyn!” My father commanded.

My father’s magebinding extended into me, and my ability to speak froze as my throat tightened against the words trapped there. Anger poured out of me at the violation of magic, the simplicity of silencing me. The duke didn’t need my blood—newly caked under his fingernail—to control me. No, our connection was unique in a way that no other magebound families shared.

Whatever magic origin the bloodbound came from seemed to interpret familial bonds as extensions of will. My blood was just as much his as it was mine, just as his had been equally his father’s blood, and his mother’s blood before him. As far as the bloodbinding was concerned, it meant our familial connection was unbreakable, and easily used.

By birth alone, the LeMont’s have been able to use their bloodbinding on their descendants, or their predecessors. It was why as a child, my father bound me with commands meant to protect him against my own bloodbinding, except that my magic never manifested. He’d stopped reinforcing his protections when it hadn’t.

My rage at being silenced was all consuming, and it, along with the inescapable agony of my hand, clouded my judgment. Without thinking, I stood up and swiped my good arm across his desk. The inkwell, papers, and any other articles unfortunate enough to cover the desk were thrown from the surface.

I don’t need words to be heard. I thought, standing in front of him in open defiance.

The duke froze, shocked. But any satisfaction I had instantly melted as he recovered.

“Take this.” He ordered, holding out the quill he still held.

Automatically, my fingers reached out and took it from him.

“You know, I used to think that I was sparing you by making you forget the times where I’ve lost my patience with you, Daelyn. Instead, I fear I’ve made you stupid.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Bring the quill to your eye, and pierce it.”

My hand trembled as I tried to fight against the command, but I only succeeded in drawing it out, moving as slowly as I could without defying him. I couldn’t shout, couldn’t scream, couldn’t resist.

The point of the quill was mere inches away when the door knob twisted.

“The arrangements are—” A voice cut off, and in two strides he had my wrist in his hands. “Jasper, release her!” The man shouted.

My father’s face was strained, like the intrusion had weakened his concentration. Between breaths, I felt his binding release, and I collapsed against the stranger as a sob ripped its way out of my chest, no longer contained by the bloodbinding. If my father was upset by the interruption, he made no mention of it. Instead, he ignored us both to crouch down and pick up the papers I’d flung, and placed them neatly in a stack.

I cowered against the man who’d stopped my hand and saved my eye. I didn’t know who he was, but I was too afraid to look away from my father to even see who held me.

Now composed, the Duke of Astalia moved back behind his desk, and pulled a folded letter from the drawer like nothing had happened. He signed the new document with a quick flourish.

“I’ve instructed the servants to pack your belongings.” The duke said, striking a match and lighting a candle.

“Where are you sending me?” I whispered. I was so afraid, but unable to stop myself from asking.

“What does it matter where I send you?” The duke placed a few beads of wax into a small spoon, melting them above the candle flame. “This morning you were ready to leave without another word. You’re lucky that the Eidolon found you when he did. If not for his timing, I may have been forced to send you to Kovosna to stand trial. Your punishment will be easily given to another.”

My blood ran cold. “You’re... you’re speaking of execution?”

My father ignored me to ensure that the wax had melted before pouring it upon the document. He removed his signet ring, and pressed our family seal into the puddle. Pulling the seal free, he held out the document towards me. No, not me, to the man at my side who rose to take the envelope.

“And were you able to find a vessel?” My father asked him.

“Most of the ships sailed before the emissaries left. Only one vessel was bound for Etheroz,” The newcomer said. “They depart at first light.”

The duke smiled, standing. “Excellent news. Thank you, Leander. We’re fortunate that plans were able to be salvaged.” He straightened his lapel, sparing a glance down at where I was huddled on the floor. “It’s almost comical. You used to beg to walk the Bridal Path yourself. And now, in a way, you are.”

“What?” A disbelieving gasp escaped my lips. The news which may have brought me hope only a day ago now filled me with immeasurable dread.

My father laughed. “As useless as you may be, the useful children you may bear will never exist if I let you hang. They’re worth the trouble of finding a replacement to accept your punishment. You’ll be sent to Count Lovick. In exchange for your hand in marriage, I will be given custody of any children that exhibit a bloodbinding.”

“You’re beyond cruel.” I gasped.

“You wanted to leave, and I’m letting you leave.” His mouth curled up in a malicious smile. “And in the event that you contemplate running away again, just think of your hand, or better yet, think of your eye and imagine all of the things that I’ll have you do to yourself if you defy me again.” He smirked in triumph before turning, dismissing me from his life.