Page 32 of Bonded

“Welcome to Ning,” Zyran begins. “Named after the flower. It has an effect quite like being drunk. You don’t need to drink much here; just being here gives you that feeling, and it wears off fast once you leave the dance floor. You won’t be sick tomorrow.”

I can get drunk without side effects? Yes please.

“You chose the best place,” Illyia squeals, already swaying to the music. “Let’s dance!” She pulls me away, straight into the dancing crowd. I laugh, glitter falling over my face, my hair, my clothes, as Illyia and I dance to music so unfamiliar yet so addictive. It’s only seconds before I feel lightweight, and all my worries melt away. I sway my hips, looking around until I find my date. Zyran leans against the edge of the bar, his eyes fixed on mine and full of heat.

I move my hips to the beat, putting my arms into the air, and I dance, even knowing he is watching. The beat of it—I can feel it under my skin. The thump of the music and the way he looks at me has my skin pebbling. Illyia soon pulls me farther into the crowd, and I lose track of Zyran. I sway from side to side, laughing and feeling younger than I have in years.

I don’t know how long I dance before my head goes fuzzy. Illyia has been swept up by another man. “Illyia, I’m going to get a drink,” I tell her. She lifts her hand to wave goodbye. I look around for Zyran, but I can’t see him in the crowd. I slip through a few people, going up to one of the bars and sitting down. I don’t exactly have any money on me, and I’m not sure how to order. A man settles into the seat next to me—blond hair, blue eyes, very pretty. I feel nothing. If anything, he just reminds me of Reed, and the longing for Reed hits me like a wave.

“Where’d you get the gold hair? Are you a bastard to the throne or something?” he roughly asks. A little rude, but he seems harmless enough.

“Just gold dye. Wanted it to look royal for a night.” I smile back.

“Well, you’ve done a very impressive job.” He reaches to touch my hair. I lean back slightly.

“No, thank you.” I turn back to the bar. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Let me buy you a drink while you wait.” He waves to the bartender, who comes straight over. He doesn’t give me the option to say no. “What’s your name?”

I almost tell him my real name and decide against it. “Illyia.”

“Interesting name. I saw you came in with the gargoyle.” He tilts his head. “Your family must be delighted. Dating him.” His tone is pointed.

“They might have been,” I answer. Dain was definitely pissed off and still is. He wants me to be publicly shown off as the returning princess, but not with Zyran. I’m not sure I want it, the whole city knowing I’m theirs. I would belong to them, owe them loyalty, all while they won’t accept Zyran.

He laughs. “Girls like you always like the bad ones, but fuck, he massacred five hundred people and killed two royals. I’m surprised anyone wants to be seen with him these days. He used to be one of the trusted—one of the shadow commanders to the royals. How far he fell when he was cursed by the old king. He was banished and cursed, and usually they don’t return. I wonder what brought him back here…”

I stare ahead as he carries on talking, this time about his own life. The world blinks in and out. I don’t remember getting off the stool or seeing a door, but I somehow know where Zyran is. I walk up several flights of stairs and get to a rooftop.

Zyran is there, just like something in my chest told me he was. His wings are tightly folded behind him, and he holds the banister, staring out over the night sky and the city. My skin glitters in the moonlight from the flowers as I walk over to his side. “What did you do?”

He looks down at me, his eyes as dark as the sky above us. “I don’t think tonight’s a good time to talk about it. You should be having fun with your friend. That’s what I brought you here for. Normal fun. You’re so young and you deserve that.”

“I might be young, but my life has hardly been sheltered or easy.” Silence. “Someone just told me that you killed royals and massacred hundreds of people. Tell me it’s not true. Tell me what you did.”

“It’s true.” He whispers it, and the words crack something in my chest slightly. He killed some of my family. “Don’t you ever wonder why you have no other family beyond your parents? There were two heirs: your mother and your uncle. Your uncle was older, but your mother was more powerful. Oblivion chose her; therefore, she became queen. But your uncle was not happy about that. He hated her for it and spent his life building supporters to his side, not your mother’s. I was tasked with watching him, so I did—I got close to him, made it seem as though I was on his side. I got close to his daughter too. Not the way you and I are, Meredith, but she was very infatuated with me. I will say I used that to get closer to him, to report back to the king and queen what he was doing.”

He pauses and gulps once.

“She was like her father—manipulative, wanting the throne. But the king and queen, your parents, never classed her as a princess because your uncle had never married her mother. Her mother ran off, leaving him with the child. Being born in wedlock is an important factor for a royal family, and she was, for all intents and purposes, a bastard. She was furious about this, and your uncle had made a plan to assassinate the king, his pregnant wife, and their son. I managed to stop that plan, and you were born. But you were born with so much oblivion, Meredith—it shook the grounds of this very city—and he hated it. Your uncle and your cousin knew that someday you’d be more powerful than any of them. There would be no negotiation about who should have the throne other than you. It was history repeating itself for another generation. Dain would likely have become just as bitter that you had taken the throne over him. It was a mess, and your uncle knew it. He knew the best chance was to kill you and kill everything that stood in the way of his throne.”

He looks out over the city, seeming like he doesn’t want to continue, but then his eyes lock onto mine. “So I stopped him. I killed him. I killed her. I killed everyone who supported him—all six hundred of them. I thought your mother and father would be pleased, or at least understand my actions. I understood she would grieve her brother, but I couldn’t let him kill you. Something, even then, made me want to protect you. I had never even laid eyes on you, Meredith.”

I clench my hands on the railing.

“Of course, your mother was grieving, and they had to follow the laws. I was cursed to be this”—he gestures to himself, the wings, the grey skin—“and thrown to the Folkland. Stripped of everything I was. Time in the Folkland is different—faster. Hundreds of years passed in the blink of an eye on that island, even if time does not pass the same way here. Twenty years for you, hundreds for me. I spent many years wondering what had happened to the city that I loved, that I sacrificed everything for, only to be cursed and thrown out.” He exhales slowly. “They call me a royal killer for that. Do you hate me for it too?”

“No, gods, no. Zyran…I might have called you my monster to begin with, but you are far from a monster.” I touch his hand. “You protected the royal family, even if taking lives from the royal family was the only way you could do it. My father shouldn’t have cursed you.”

“When we take the touch of oblivion, we promise never to kill anyone in the royal family, or we will be cursed. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I don’t regret it.” He takes a step towards me. “I certainly don’t regret it now either. When I first saw you, I knew with absolute certainty that you were my mate—that I had been protecting you even back then, when I never even knew you.”

“You should have told me this, Zyran.” I hesitate. “Is that why Dain hates you?”

“Dain thinks I murdered his uncle. Doesn’t understand any of it, and he doesn’t want to know the truth.” Something shifts in his expression. “I dislike him, though.”

“Why?”

“Because you should be on the throne, Meredith. The queen that all of us would kneel for.” His hands grab my hips, pulling me to him. “Though I much prefer to be on my knees for you.” His lips crash onto mine. I fully embrace it—deepening the kiss, hands sinking into his hair, pulling him towards me. I love him, I realise with a shock. I’m in love with Zyran, and now there are no secrets lingering between us. He is mine and I don’t want it any other way. I part my legs and he steps between them, pulling me hard against him. His hands brush down my breasts, and I gasp, a bolt of pleasure shooting through me.