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Confidence makes men sloppy. And sloppy men are easy targets.
I like it more than I’d ever admit, having someone to take care of me.
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.
“And you,”
“You are not where you are meant to be.”
“Reach your hands over your head,”
“and grab hold of that table leg behind you.”
“Congratulations, recruits! You’ve been chosen to be part of the Bonding Trials.”
“You and your wolf must make it back to the training center in the castle before nightfall. From that point forward, you will be officially considered a Rawbond, a trainee.
There’s only one way forward, and I’m not dying on a lonely, icy mountain.
I’ll get down the mountain with or without her useless, furry ass.
She’s there. She’s just right there. The fucking bitch.
I had to leave all my things up on top of the mountain, right next to my dignity. Rest in peace.
“His ego is compensating for something,”
He’s probably six and a half feet of bulky, toned muscle with a perfect jawline and eyelashes prettier than mine.
His lips are full and his perpetually messy dark hair is actually artfully tousled and thick, the kind of hair you’d want to pull when you’re—
The idea of all that strength and precision homed in on you, on your needs and wants and desires—
“Your training has already started. It began the moment you touched that mountain. Your mistakes and your… weaknesses… have been noted,”
“You’ve bonded with a direwolf now, and there is no going back. Hesitation and fear are out of the question. Cowardice will get you killed.”
I wonder if she believes this load of wolf dung.
Every time there are Bonding Trials, King Cyril picks a Rawbond to be his companion for the duration of the four months.”
“Presenting His Royal Highness Killian Valtiere, Crown Prince of Nocturna!”
That handsome face, with its sharp jawline and knowing blue eyes. The sleek blond hair. The broad shoulders.
The wolves are gripped by some command from the Dire Blade, I realize.
I’d give it all up if you told me to. I’d abdicate tomorrow.”
“The Therions have been the crown’s sworn protectors for as long as anyone can remember.”
“If the king isn’t actually bonded to a wolf, why does he maintain ultimate control over the wolves and the Bonded?”
Daemos and Strategos often vie for dominance.”
“You’ll find that Kryptos operates more independently and Phylax maintains careful neutrality, in most matters,”
“Or are you too delicate for combat?”
“Get out,”