Page 3 of Bonded

“I don’t believe that’s true, and even if you’re not a good person—neither am I. I have never been.” He holds out his hand. “Trust me, love, and we will avenge her.”

I stare at his hand for a long time. Tannith would tell me to go for it, to take his hand and stop being silly. He is promising me answers, family, protection and revenge. I want to see this city he has told me about, this family I supposedly have. Could it be true that I’m not really alone? “Betray me like they did, and I will never speak to you again,” I warn him as I take his hand. I need to say it. I can’t breathe when I think of the heirs…and I don’t know how I will ever face them again without wanting to scream and destroy mountains once more.

He pulls me against his hard body—reminiscent of when we first met, really—and launches us back up into the sky, with a smirk that warms every inch of my broken heart. My stomach drops, just like the first time he did this. I barely noticed it then, but now it’s a real effort not to throw up. He has us up high in the sky in seconds, skimming across the edge of the clouds with his massive dark wings. It’s cold but not unbearable as we fly over moody grey seas that soon give way to snow-covered land. I want to ask how there’s even land here. As far as I was ever told, there was nothing beyond the district islands. But there is. Then again, the wolves are all liars, so perhaps that was never true.

We travel over the land for what feels like an hour before I start to see something. Mountains. A valley. A city—a huge city, bigger than I ever thought possible. The houses spread out in every direction, curling around a vast forest at the edge, with massive gates beyond that. Zyran takes us up above the clouds, so I get a bird’s-eye view. We fly for a little longer before he drops us down above the city.

It’s the middle of the day, and it’s packed with people. They bustle through the streets between golden buildings and white rooftops. Everything is lightly coloured—except for the castle. The black onyx castle sits right in the centre, and it is enormous. It has a five-pointed star right at the very top, with red stained-glass windows and an endless number of towers. Its base is built atop a great rock, and there doesn’t appear to be a way in except a long bridge in the middle.

Around the castle are fields of dark grass, black-flower-covered mazes, and darker trees. It’s familiar. I stare at it as we fly towards it, looping around the towers before landing on one at the back—a balcony with black steel gating around it and black flowers planted along the edges, their scent familiar too.

Remember Oblivion. Remember the darkness. Remember the throne.

I wince, holding the side of my head as the voices echo in my ears.

Glass doors line the black brick wall, with warm light coming through from the inside. Two doors slam open, and a pale man steps out, shadows whispering around his fingertips, dark nails and thick arms. I can hear them whispering, but I can’t understand what they are saying. The shadows grow darker as he looks at Zyran, his eyes narrowing. But when he turns to me, they fade and disappear. He has gold hair—a mop of it on top of his head. He’s much taller than I. A black crown full of sparkling diamonds is nestled in his hair, too. A black cloak falls off his shoulders over a stylish, tailored shirt, trousers and boots. Several gold and black necklaces hang down his neck, all with black jewels in them.

Something about him makes the voices in my head scream. I stare into his eyes. Gold, like mine. “It can’t be,” he breathes. He takes a step closer, a flash of fangs like mine catching the light. “My little sister has returned home.”

Chapter Two

This stranger, who doesn’t feel like a stranger at all, steps forward, reaching for me. Zyran moves like a shadow, stepping in front of me. “She doesn’t know you.”

“Who are you?” I slip around Zyran, leaving my hand on his arm.

The stranger ignores Zyran altogether. It’s almost impressive, or foolish, considering how imposing and scary my monster can be. “I suspected, if there was even a chance that you were alive after everything that happened in the Crone Pack, that your memories were gone. Why else would you not reach out or come home? I suspected maybe the alphas had taken you, that they were going to use you against us, but they never did. It made everything more confusing when I told people I felt like you were alive. That oblivion told me you would come home.” He looks at me steadily. “They said I was mad. What do you remember of me? Of your family?”

My heart is beating so fast in my chest as I stare at him and hold his stare. “Sometimes I have a bad dream, and I’ve never known whether it’s a memory or not, whether it’s just something—” I clear my throat. “I was in a room and there was a woman crying, people holding me down, cutting into my stomach.” I look down, as if I can still see the marks on my stomach, but I know I can’t anymore. The burns have smothered them, warping them into something else. “I was just a child, with brutal scars and no memory. Not unusual in the human district where I grew up.”

He pulls his shirt up, showing me his stomach. Across the ripples of muscle is a mark just like mine used to be—a circle, two moons, an arrow pointed right between them. His is old and faded. “Every royal child of Oblivion has this mark. It’s given to us when our powers come in as a child… That’s what went wrong the night we lost you.”

Zyran touches my hand still resting on his arm. “He isn’t lying, even if his face looks like someone who would.”

The man claiming to be my brother steps forward again, and Zyran growls lightly. My brother’s gold eyes turn to him, glowing darker. Do mine do that now? “Zyran Nightward, I would welcome you back, but the last time we spoke, my father banished you. Did you think finding her would excuse your actions? Nothing would. You should leave, alive, and take that as a thank-you for bringing my sister home.”

“I will never leave her side.” Zyran’s tone is final. “Bringing her home is in Meredith’s best interest, and it has nothing to do with you. Try to make me leave her. See what happens, old friend.”

Arrogance drips off Zyran’s threat, and there must be something wrong with me, because I like it. Hell, there is something wrong with me, but fuck it.

“Did you manipulate her into freeing you?” he snarls back. “She clearly doesn’t know our ways and what it meant to bind you to her!”

“As you will find out soon enough, not many people can manipulate your sister and get to stand at her side when all is said and done.” Zyran crosses his thick arms.

“Is Meredith my real name?” I turn to my brother. I don’t know what his beef is with Zyran, but I can’t find it in me to care right now when I’m so close to so many answers about my past.

“Yes.” My brother’s voice softens when he looks at me, his eyes losing the glow and fading into a dark shade of gold. His eyes are darker than mine. “You are Princess Meredith Duskmore—second-born heir to the throne. Princess of Fallenstar, as that was the day you were born. You are twenty years old, turning twenty-one this year.” Shivers burst out across my skin, and I rub my arms. Damn, it’s true. At least I know my birthday now.

“You’re saying I’m a princess.” I almost laugh. Princess? Me? Seems unlikely, but then again, my life has been one hell of a shitshow since I stabbed a wolf’s foot with a knife. It’s still weird that that moment was a turning point in my life.

“You are.” His voice is firm. “And as I am not yet married nor do I have a child, you are my heir.” He turns back to Zyran. “You need to leave. She doesn’t need a cursed and exiled monster when she has true family to protect and teach her.”

Cursed? Exiled? Zyran and I need to have a chat, because my monster is clearly hiding things from me. How long exactly was he on the Folkland island, and how did he get trapped there in the first place? I turn to him. “What did you do?”

“He is a traitor to the throne, sister. Traitor to the people of Oblivion, and our dark god has forsaken him. He was cursed to be a gargoyle by our father. There have only been several hundred in our entire history who have been cursed. The curse is not given lightly,” my brother answers.

My eyes widen as I look at Zyran. Damn, what did he do? Zyran looks at me once before turning his dark eyes on my brother. “I am not going anywhere, and we both know I would level this castle if you attempted to make me leave her.”

“Meredith?” my brother asks me.