Bonds that Burn and Bind

Chapter 2

Had my senses dulled since my return to Dalmar six months prior? When I was still in Incartha, not even a mouse could scurry across the room without my noticing—every shadow, every sound, every shape that did not belong—a possible enemy. I still had nightmares about the things that had ground them into such sharp points. Those terrors dragged me from my sleep—fingers clawing at a threat I could not see—mouth opened to scream for people no longer with me.

My pulse pounded in my ears. "I was not aware there were claims in No-Land," I said in a measured voice.

My reading on No-Land had never mentioned anything about claims.

"Fancy that, newcomers thinkin' they can waltz in here and take whatever they please." The hot breath of my attacker tickled my neck.

I recalled the fraying twine I had seen knotted to that branch earlier, even more now crisscrossed my trail of red yarn.

I should've been more alert, knowing another lurked so close. The people of Dalmar seemed like lap dogs compared to the wolves Incartha's war had created from its people. That didn't mean they weren't without their bite.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I'll be on my way as soon as you allow me."

"First, pay my fee."

"And what might that be?" I asked.

"The Witch's-Glass."

That was something I wasn't willing to part with. I needed it to reach my goal of one golden rose. So, I stepped closer to her, so my back bumped into her chest, and I jammed my leg between her legs. I twisted my foot, using it to knock hers out of alignment and unbalance her. I pushed her knife away from my throat while she fell so it did not slice me.

I spun around and angled my dagger at a girl with golden hair and rosy-white skin, typical of those from Dalmar. She stared up at me with brown eyes, the color of the earth she lay sprawled across. Freckles flecked her cheeks and small button nose like someone had taken a handful of dust and blown it across her face. She had to be around my age, 19 or so—beautiful in a simple way.

Her clothing marked her as belonging to one of the villages within the deep woods—dyed a deep green and lovingly stitched by patient hands with woodland creatures and trees in multicolored threads. The hem of her skirts ended just above her knees, exposing her deer skin boots underneath.

Her mouth parted into an O in what I couldn't tell was surprise or fear.

My appearance did unnerve some people. A childhood bully once told me I looked like a kelpie in human form with my too dark hair and eyes for my pale skin. I took after my mother's people, the Witide, who made their homes on the jagged rocky islands that sprinkled the coast. The Witide rarely married beyond their rocky borders, so we were a rare sight on the mainland.

"Think of something else," I said.

"Is it true that you drank blood so you could cast dark magic to survive the Shadowling War?"

So she knew who I was. Otherwise, she would not have mentioned the Shadowling War.

I knitted my brows together. "Is that what they're saying about me these days?"

Rumors like that were dangerous. They could get you burned at the stake for being a dark witch, no matter what position you held.

She grinned and swept my feet out from under me in one easy motion and was on top of me in the next breath. Her hand pinned my shoulder while her pulse thundered through the palm of her hand—steady and sure.

A distraction, and I had fallen for it. She wasn't just some ordinary deep woods girl. For this girl to be able to sneak up on somebody like me— to move as she did. Maybe I wasn't as rusty as I feared after all. Maybe I just faced a worthy opponent.