Chapter 014. To Be Marked

Oddly, Thorold looked absolutely thrilled.

Saeris eyed him like one might a suspicious potion. “What’s so amusing?”

“Strange to hear you laugh, old man,” Samkiel drawled, reclining like a bored cat.

Thorold’s grin vanished. “This old man laughs because I get to witness something truly magnificent in my lifetime,” he huffed, affronted. “You’d do well to show more respect to your elders, Sam.”

"Forgive me if I don’t fall to my knees in reverence.” Samkiel tipped his head toward her. “But Binders—we’ve covered that. What does it mean for her?”

Yes. That.

She’d been trying not to think about the worst-case scenario … what it meant if a Binder had been behind it. That Gemma had employed one…

Thorold's expression sobered. “Well… uh, nothing. As much as I could fathom, Binders don't exist, not in recent history, anyway. The last recorded Binder was centuries ago." He turned the ring over once more before reluctantly handing it back to Saeris. "It must have been passed down through generations. That's the only explanation.”

Saeris slapped the ring back to its home. But when she looked up, Sam was staring at it. At her.

As if he’d read her right back. “Relax, I'm not planning on stealing it."

"It's more likely now that you've said that.”

Thorold stifled a bark of laughter with the back of his hand.

“Didn't think you’d meet your match so soon, did you?” came a smooth, hissing voice from the doorway.

Saeris turned to find the woman from the other day standing there, slender with rich sun-kissed skin, it was hard a tell to miss.

"Yrene," Samkiel's voice shifted, warming several degrees. "Come to join our little gathering? I promise it's more interesting than whatever has you scowling so beautifully."

The woman—Yrene—didn't so much as blink at his flirtation. Not even a bat of those cool, almond-shaped eyes. “You left your work undone. Again."

"Did I?" A frown pulled at his mouth.

"Another word and I’ll slice your tongue off.”

Her voice didn’t rise, each syllable was so precise, so clipped, that Saeris believed it, that it would matter if Sam so much as let another syllable fall from his lips.

Yrene turned her attention to Saeris, giving her a quick once-over. "Hi."

The greeting was so abrupt that Saeris almost missed it. Before she could respond, Yrene had shifted her focus back to Samkiel. "Are you coming along, or do you need to be dragged?"

Vaelen hadn't paid either of them a lick of attention. His eyes remained fixed on Saeris, that penetrating stare making her skin prickle uncomfortably. What was his problem today?

Samkiel sighed dramatically, pushing himself up from his perch. "Duty calls, I'm afraid. Try not to have too much fun without me." He winked at Saeris before sauntering over to Yrene. "Pleasure as always, old friend.” That part was directed at the sage.

When they'd gone, Thorold rubbed his hands together, muttering, "I don't understand... That boy—”

"We should get started," Vaelen interrupted. "We've wasted enough time already."

Thorold frowned, drawing himself up straighter. "I am not some court lackey to be commanded—"

"Get on with the examination before your brain begins to fail you, Thorold," Vaelen said flatly, but there was no bite in it.

To Saeris’ surprise, Thorold's face lit up. "Ah, yes, yes! I nearly forgot." He bustled around. "Come, my dear. Over here by the light."

Saeris moved to the spot he indicated, if only to end the staring contest with Vaelen. He hadn't said anything meaningful to her, not really. No barbs and cutting remarks she'd come to expect. No cruel words either. And somehow, that silence was worse.

So eager.

His words rang. Damn it, even her own thoughts had turned against her.

"Sit, sit," Thorold said, beckoning to a wooden stool.

She sat.

He circled her slowly, muttering nonsense or chants, maybe. Hard to tell. Every few steps, he paused and sniffed the air, like one of her pack elders when they scented something foreign.

He’d already pricked her finger, collected a few drops of blood. Had asked when she last shifted, nodding and humming with that vague expression the entire time.

But then he lingered, too long, on her right arm, and she couldn’t stop the question that finally slipped free.

“What did you find?”

His face didn’t twist or shift, not in any way that should’ve made her tense. But it was how he’d paused, how he adjusted the thin lenses perched on his nose…

“Hff!” He released her arm. “Well, it’s not as simple as giving a straight answer.” He turned back to his cluttered table, rummaging, “Have you been marked before?”

She blinked. “No.”

And probably never would be.

But then, too casually, he added, “When was the last time you were with someone?”

Her spine went rigid. “Wh—what do you mean?”

Thorold sighed like she was the one being difficult. “The last time you had sex, girl. When was it?”

Heat flared along her neck, then crawled up her face. Seriously?

What in the name of the Mother did that have to do with anything?

“That’s… hardly relevant,” she said stiffly.

“Everything is relevant.”

She didn’t look at Vaelen. Didn’t dare. Not with that question floating in the air like a trap, ready to spring the moment she showed even a flicker of shame.

“I—” Her voice was so small, so tight. “Sometime this year.”

And it was the truth, just not the whole of it.

Didn’t say that it had only been once.

Didn’t say it was with Flynn.

Didn’t say it had been fast, fumbling, sweet—that it had been his tongue that coaxed pleasure from her, and that had been all.

And maybe it hadn’t been perfect. But she’d thought it meant something.

Saeris could feel Vaelen across the room, even as Thorold turned. The low hum of power and attention. She didn’t look, but she knew Vaelen was watching.

"Very well. Drink this." He handed her a small cup filled with ruby-red liquid.

Saeris raised it to her nose and immediately regretted it.

One swallow. That was all it took for the bitterness to hit. Like overripe berries rolled in ash.

"What was that?" She was gagging then.

Thorold didn’t answer. Just watched her, too closely as if he were waiting for her limbs to start twitching. Or worse.

"What's going on?!”

“That’s precisely the point,” he said. “Nothing is happening.”

“What the hell is even that?”

He practically beamed. “You just drank ruby wine laced with wolfsbane.”

Saeris shot to her feet. “Are you trying to kill me?!”

“If I were, you’d already be foaming at the mouth, writhing on the floor. Wolfsbane would send even the King’s firstborn into convulsions,” Thorold murmured. “But not you. Whoever stripped your wolf did so with a level of skill I’d be honored to learn.”

It was becoming difficult to tell if the old man was helping or against her.

He stroked his beard, eyes thoughtful. “I need time to research this properly. But... there is an alternative. Likely your best shot.”

Saeris didn’t like the way he said that. The gleam in his eye. Something tells her she’d hate it.

“What is it?”

“Allow yourself to be marked by our King.” A pause. “You see his bite—”

“Absolutely not,” she snapped. “No fucking way!”

He had to be joking.

“No?” Thorold asked mildly.

“No.”

She braced herself for Vaelen to step in, to throw his demand around as always—

Vaelen didn’t say a word, but when she glanced at him, there was nothing in his face. Nothing except those eyes. It made something in her flinch.

Thorold looked genuinely perplexed, like she’d refused water in a desert. “I don’t understand your reluctance. A mark from him would override the old bond. It would give you a new scent. Your wolf would return. It—”

“And bind me to him for life,” she bit out. “Absolutely not.”

The sage sighed, shaking his head as if she were a child too foolish to know better. “Very well,” he muttered. “Then we wait while I look into alternative solutions.”

"I don't have all the time in the world.”

“You won’t need to,” Thorold replied breezily. He reached into his robes and withdrew a small vial of liquid, the same as the one she’d drunk. “In the meantime, take this. One drop every morning before you leave your room. It won’t restore your wolf, not truly, but it will give you the aura of one. Enough to fool most.”

Most.

Not all.

✦✦✦

The walk back from the Spire was a graveyard of silence. Vaelen said nothing. Didn’t even glance her way.

She tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. The way the wind bit at her cheeks.

But finally, she cracked when they arrived at the court.

“Are you not going to say anything?”

He slowed. Just enough for her to see his profile. “Is there a reason to talk,” he said, voice empty of anger, “when you clearly hate me so much? Even the thought of my mark is like a curse to you, when in reality… you’re the one being saved.”

She stopped walking.

“You can’t be serious,” she said, laughing once, cold and bitter. “Nothing in our deal said anything about you marking me. And you damn well know that would bind me to you for life.” Her voice dropped. “I agreed to pretend, not to become.”

He opened his mouth like he had some great retort ready—then shut it again.

And that was when Saeris saw her.

Platinum-blonde hair, sapphire eyes. One of the King’s Hands’ daughters, no doubt.

Stupid…

“Ria,” Vaelen said, simply.

She smiled. “I wondered if I might have a word?” Her gaze slid to Saeris, assessing and dismissing her in the same heartbeat.

Without so much as a backward glance, Vaelen nodded. "You know your way."

Saeris watched him go. And gods help her, she felt it. That tiny little crack where something resembling dignity should’ve been. She should’ve known better, should’ve expected nothing, but still.

Just as she was about to turn and hunt Samkiel down, wherever Yrene’d taken him to, Morgana appeared.