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If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-three years alive, it’s this: Women in pain give men confidence.
Igor’s perpetual frown deepens. He’s an unhappy-looking person, always has been for as long as I’ve known him, which has been my entire life.
Kids have been getting kidnapped for as long as I’ve been alive, maybe as long as this entire war has been going on. And we all know who the Nabbers actually are. Siphons, our ancient, monstrous enemy from the neighboring country of Astreona.
He said you never know when you might need to make someone shit their pants by tossing a dagger at their head.
The Bonded are the king’s most elite forces, soldiers who have mental bonds with massive, fearsome direwolves. They ride the wolves into battle and, rumor has it, the riders can even tap into the magic that the direwolves wield.
My pulse speeds up as I clock the tattoos completely covering his neck, his hands. Not much makes me afraid, but this? Run, a self-preserving, animalistic part of me cries. Danger.
“And you,” she says, turning on me, wild-eyed. “You are not where you are meant to be.”
“I’m Henrey.” He’s in his midtwenties with close-cropped light-brown hair and serious blue eyes, and he seems thickly muscular underneath his winter clothes. His voice and stance exude confidence.
Anassa, running in the moonlight, racing down the mountainside, faster than wind. A sun rising, rays blinding and beautiful. A crown, its metal glinting, then
Fuck, I can’t use this. Like putting jewelry on a pig. Wait, did I just call myself a pig?
Crown Prince Killian descends to the balcony while I stand there frozen, my whole world crumbling around me. And then, seated at his father’s side, he lifts his head and looks right at me, dark blue eyes filled with regret.
“Daemos are known for their viciousness and battle prowess. Their Bonded tend to be large and temperamental. Their wolves, even more so,” Aldrich says.
“You are of Phylax. The guardians. You learn how to blend in alongside all the other packs, support them and protect them.”
“And Meryn, Strategos,” he says, pointing to the name on the board. “The tacticians and leaders. Masters of strategy. You more than any of the other packs must learn to cooperate with the rest.”
him. “Then, of course, there’s Kryptos, the shadow walkers. They specialize in stealth and intelligence gathering,”
“Above all of us,” he goes on, circling a name he’s written above the pack names. Siegrid Therion. “The Sovereign Alpha, currently a fearsome woman named Siegrid who can communicate with all wolves across all packs. A feat of immense strength and control. She is the head of the Bonded, and she serves as the king’s second-in-command.”
The king’s role is to ensure that the commoners he reigns over always have an equal balance of power with the Bonded and the direwolves. So while Siegrid is the highest in power for the Bonded, we ultimately all answer to the king.”
yikes—“but you should know that wolves can telepathically communicate within their own packs but can’t typically speak across pack lines unless through the Sovereign Alpha.”
“She is essentially a conduit. Think of her like a translator, relaying a foreign language to you in words you can understand,”
It’s very rare for Rawbonds to have such high-ranking instructors. This year’s Trials will churn out incredibly talented Bonded, I can tell.”
“As you may have learned by now, the wolf/human bond cannot be severed once it is formed—and if it is, it results in death for both beings.
direwolves, once mated, mate for life. Their riders do not need to be together romantically, although it makes things easier, because the mate bonds have unique properties.”
“These rare connections between wolves allow their riders to communicate telepathically even across pack lines, without the aid of the Sovereign Alpha. Mated direwolves are cherished because they can protect each other—and, in turn, their Bonded riders and their packs—even better during battle. Also because mated direwolves often result in direwolf pups, thereby continuing the Bonded line. However”—he slumps into the chair again—“mated wolves have become more and more rare over the past several hundred years.”
We’re two predators who’ve agreed to hunt together for the sake of the kill, but she doesn’t trust me any more than I do her.
“They’re blood-sucking vampires who steal life force and energy to extend their own lives and make themselves more powerful.”
“In the Siphons’ country, there are no humans left—they drained them all for power. That’s why they invade our lands. To find more prey.” “Correct,” says Gamma Elinor. “There have been no humans living in Astreona for centuries. Anything else?”
“Siphons subsist on the spoils of war. They feed on our captured soldiers.”
Everyone in Sturmfrost knows this is the whole reason the Nabbers have been taking children from our city. Children have the strongest life force energy and therefore give the Siphons the most fuel.
“but they don’t just feed on our soldiers, do they? Siphons use the blood of their captives to wield powerful blood magic. Can anyone tell me why?”
“They use blood magic to control our minds and weave illusions!” somebody calls from the back. “They don’t have their own Bonded creatures, so that’s the only way they can fight us. They use their magic to turn drained humans into more Siphons as well.”
“This is why the war has gone on so long. Through their blood magic, Siphons have achieved functional immortality and the ability to manipulate human perception. This is how they infiltrate our borders and defend against our Bonded attacks. And the older a Siphon is, the more powerful their abilities become. We don’t even know half of what they’re truly capable of, as we interact primarily with their youngest soldiers—the more senior Siphons are rarely part of their forward guard.”
“The Bonded are the ultimate protectors of the humans,”
“and we are all that stands between the commoners and the Siphons. Without the direwolves and our bonds, humans would be extinct by now. Or bred like cattle in a world overrun by Siphons.” “But the war has been at a stalemate for as long as anyone can remember,”
“Only by finding a way to fully invade Astreona and eliminate every last Siphon in existence.”
And in case my implication is not crystal fucking clear: You touch her again and I’ll cull you myself.”
“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?” I ask. Stark’s eyes spark, he takes a single step back, and he bows down on one knee, hand to his chest. “Welcome home, my queen.”
“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”
