Novel & Cerita A Song Of Ice And Fire Leatherbound

“And another on… scent binding rituals? Ugh. No thanks.” Iris moved slower, reverent. “Look for anything titled Chronicles, or Legacy,” she said softly, running her fingers along the bindings. Aurora drifted toward a central table carved from dark stone. Its surface shimmered faintly with symbols that looked like they’d been burned into the rock by claws. Sitting in the center was a single thick book—dustless and pristine despite its surroundings. The gold title glinted in the dim light: “The Bloodline of Kings: A History of the Lycan Throne”

LUCIAN The weight of the book feels heavier than iron in my hands. I keep it pressed against my chest as I stride through the corridor, heart pounding harder with every step. The guards outside the archives had barely blinked when I left, but I know I’ve crossed a line tonight. I didn’t just slip into forbidden shelves, I stole from them. A volume bound in worn black leather, its spine cracked, its title nearly rubbed away by time. The History of the Shadowborn.

And I knew London and Libbie were probably in on it, too. They were all on my list now. ________________________________________ The leather felt strange against my skin. It was cool and surprisingly smooth, despite how old the book looked. It wasn't just a book; it was a heavy, ancient tome that felt like it carried its own gravity. Silver clasps held the covers shut, the metal darkened by layers of tarnish that settled into the grooves of a strange, swirling crest. I didn't know what the symbol meant, but I couldn't stop looking at it.

The manacles were heavy, made of metal but had a leather casing on the insides to prevent my worm from chafing. A thick brown leather interspersed with iron made a crisscross pattern from his shins to his torso and around his armpits to finally end at his neck. Not only that, but I had used a bright green linen to make a harness around him. While I loved shibari, and I had a lot of fun torturing wormy while I bound him, the harness I wove around him was for a particular purpose.

The heavy leather fell away and dropped onto my lap. My legs were still pinned at the ankles. I didn't even try to unbuckle them with my hands because leaning down that far made me want to throw up. Instead, I gripped the armrests, grit my teeth, and pulled my feet straight up. The rough leather scraped hard against my shins, tearing the skin right through my socks, but I kept pulling until my boots finally popped free.

Then she whispered, “I’m tired.” Not angry. Not broken. Just tired. And that quiet exhaustion struck Shomer harder than tears ever could. In the higher realm, alarms rang. Costus rose from his throne. “The guardian weakens.” Lumen stepped forward. “Her spirit is fracturing.” Vigilis watched calmly. “The bond is no longer stable.” Costus’s eyes sharpened. “Then we escalate.” Shomer’s name echoed through the chamber. Summoned. Judged. Cornered.

That night, as Leigh packed her meager belongings—the leathers, the hidden tools, a single, simple wool dress—she placed the velvet pouch with the shell at the very top of her saddlebag, where she could feel its shape through the leather. She was going home. Not as a daughter, but as the King’s gambit. And the prince, the frozen, wounded, infuriating prince, was her escort. The board was set. The pieces were in motion. And for the first time since she’d arrived in this gilded cage, Leigh felt the exhilarating, terrifying freedom of moving toward the storm, not away from it.

He forced me into the fridge, and I heard the sound of my bones snapping. He threw in a sheet of paper and a pen and told me to write a thousand-word letter of apology to Annie. Only then would he let me out. No matter how I begged, he didn't soften. He grew impatient with the noise and sealed my mouth shut with packing tape, then unplugged the fridge and had it moved down to the wine cellar. Before he left, he made it clear to the entire household that no one was to let me out without his permission or there would be consequences.

Not for them. For me. I stopped when something caught my eye, my fingers hovering over a familiar section of the shelf. The same place I had taken the herbal book from before. My hand moved without thinking, pulling another book free, the leather cover worn and aged like it had been waiting far longer than I had been here. I wiped a thin layer of dust from it with my palm, my eyes scanning the title slowly. Binding. The word alone made something in my chest tighten slightly. I stared at it for a moment longer before opening it carefully, the old pages shifting softly beneath my fingers. The scent of aged paper filled the air as I flipped through the first few pages, my eyes moving over the w

Hope, I thought, was just laying somewhere, but sometimes, I wondered if there's really a light at the ned of my tunnel. With the sleeves of my pajamas, I wiped mmy tears and banged my chest, trying to remind myself that I had to remain tough, because there's nobody who would stand up for me but myself. This place, if I could stay here and be safe from those loan sharks, I must do well in my job or I would end up in the streets where it would be easy for them to find me.