Fury Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #2) — Chapter no 35

35

STARK

t happens in a heartbeat. One moment, Meryn is settling Lucien’s goldenI crown on top of her silver-white hair.

The next, she’s crumpled over, her stunning face slack.

My stomach plummets.

I leap out of my chair just as she falls and catch her drooping body. Her head hits my lap—but it came so close to smashing onto the stone floor.

Fuck. Hot panic seizes in my chest.

There’s a screech of chairs as both Venna and Noemi leap up, blades drawn. All the Astreonans look at us in offense.

My hands tighten roughly around Meryn’s limp arms.

She’s dead, my brain shouts at me. She’s dead, and it’s your fault. You couldn’t protect her, just like you couldn’t protect Noemi.

You let her die thinking you were a coward.

But—her body is still warm. And her chest moves up and down in slow, steady breaths.

“Cratos,” I reach out. “Is Anassa okay?”

He confirms that they’re both fine, and my tense muscles relax ever so slightly. This is exactly what happened when she first put on the Sturmfrost crown.

I start to breathe again. Thank fuck. I still have time.

Her words from when we crossed the border have been on incessant repeat in my head.

I know what I am. I know what I’m capable of. I’ve never shied away from my reputation because I’m proud of it. It was earned through the labored destruction of all the softest parts of myself.

And those words—What are you if not my equal?—have unraveled

everything.

The idea of tainting her rule, of corrupting her ability to lead righteously, has haunted me. But… what if her darkness doesn’t need to be shunned, but

tamed?

And what if I can help her tame it?

Lucien Brightbane smirks down at us. The terror this caused me has… amused him. My fists clench as I contemplate punching that expression clear out of his kingdom.

“She better not have so much as a fucking bruise on her body,” I hiss.

“Or there will be consequences.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Consequences, hmm? Yes, I’m sure you’re used to doling those out. You’re famous here, too, you know, Alpha Stark.

Should there be consequences for all the tattoos you wear? All the people of mine whose lives you’ve taken? The one you just took after crossing my border, or how about the mass casualties you and the queen wrought before

our ceasefire?”

I scowl, and he dares to laugh.

“I suppose we can call that all in the fairness of war,” he drawls. “But I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

“No,” I say, “I expect you’re not. But you should be afraid of her.” I incline my head toward Meryn. The red of her dress looks so much like the gruesome spill of blood. “You have no idea what she’s capable of, and I hope for your sake that you never find out.”

That’s a lie. I’d love to watch her explode his head.

Lucien’s lips press into a thin, calculating line as he looks more closely at Meryn—who chooses this moment to stir.

“Stark.” She swallows and tries to sit up, but I hold her firmly.

“You collapsed the moment you put on Lucien’s crown.” The words come out rote, a soldier reporting to his commander. But inside, I am burning. “Your body went rigid before crumpling to the floor. I caught you before your skull hit stone, but you have been unresponsive for several minutes.”

“I’m fine,” she tells me in a rush. She grabs my arm and squeezes tight.

Hard so that it hurts. “Stark, I’m all right.”

My hand sifts through her hair, curling into a fist briefly, pulling a little.

I knew she was okay almost immediately, and still—relief rushes through

me in a wave.

“Get me up,” Meryn grumbles. “I look like an idiot down here.”

Guiding her upright, I wrap my calloused hand around hers and bring her with me as I stand. Her legs are slightly shaky.

Her hand stays in mine as I lead her back to her seat. Noemi and Venna watch us closely. Watching the Astreonans. Tension still hangs thick in the air.

Meryn’s fingers tremble slightly as she reaches up and pulls Lucien’s crown from her head. She turns to Lucien and then thuds his crown down

on the table.

He just smirks in response.

One more fucking smug upturn of his mouth and I’m going to cut off his lips. He might not be afraid of me, but I bet this vain prick fears being hideous.

Lucien settles the crown back over his perfect white-blond head of hair.

He sighs as he does it, as if it’s heavy.

“What was that bracelet in the vision?” Meryn asks. “The one Alistair

was using on those people.”

I stiffen. “Bracelet?”

“Just like mine,” she responds grimly.

Lucien reaches up and rubs his crown with two fingers, just above his ear. Then he lets his arm fall limp into his lap.

“My brother has always been the most powerful Siphon I’ve ever encountered. But,” he says with a weary sigh, “to explain, you first need to understand that all Siphons possess blood magic that allows us to create thralls, as I mentioned earlier. It’s not just a blood exchange; it binds the humans to us.”

My gut twists. I knew they could turn humans, but this? Binding people

to them?

Sick fucks.

“An exchange,” Meryn repeats placidly. “So two ways?”

“Yes, reciprocal drinking is involved—the Siphon of the human’s blood, and the human of the Siphon’s. Just a bit, not enough to turn them.”

I’m clenching my jaw so tight that my teeth start to ache.

Lucien continues. “The bond gives the Siphon a degree of control over the human. This is different from creating a mental illusion. It allows one to

compel the human to do things. But it naturally has limits. The thrall connection requires regular renewal through fresh blood exchanges and weakens significantly with distance.”

He leans closer to Meryn. His body language is relaxed, but his eyes are intense. Any closer and I’m going to impel this whole fucking dinner table over.

“Most important,” he says, “the creation of a thrall traditionally requires consent from both parties.”

Meryn’s eyes narrow. “Sounds like a great deal for Siphons. What do humans get out of this supposedly consensual exchange?”

I’m wondering the same thing.

“Heightened senses,” he replied. “Not quite at the level of Siphon powers. But they’re able to move faster, see farther. Taste, smell, and hear better. Touch is particularly heightened, which has particular uses for humans.”

His smile takes on a pointed edge, and his meaning is very clear.

My eyes dart across the table to Noemi. She’s gone pale, revulsion written across her face. She’s clutching her dinner knife so tightly that her knuckles are going white. She’s as repulsed as I am, and I wish for once that we were in the same pack so I could check in on her.

“Understood,” Meryn says stiffly.

Lucien leans back again, his eyes growing slightly distant. “Alistair discovered through experimentation that he could create a piece of jewelry that worked like a thrall bond but with none of the natural limits. These ‘thrall bracelets’ maintained their power indefinitely and allowed for complete control over a human’s mind regardless of distance. And the humans received no benefits from it.”

Meryn’s face instantly pales, and my blood runs cold. We both know what this means.

“The jewel at the center of each bracelet is created by mixing a human’s blood with a Siphon’s, but since the human doesn’t have to actively drink the Siphon’s blood to establish the connection, it enables nonconsensual bonds—as long as the Siphon can acquire the human’s blood, by any

means, they can create a bracelet.”

Meryn looks dizzy.

“Did he have your blood?” I demand, violence starting to hum to life in

my veins.

“Tons of it,” she replies weakly. “He was always… caring for me.

Wiping my blood up after fights or training. Tending to my wounds.”

It takes all my control not to race back to Cratos and return to Nocturna to hunt him down.

We’re going to invent new ways for Killian Valtiere to die.

Shadows start to stir around the edges of the room. Lucien’s eyes slide over to them and narrow, assessing.

“Now is not the time, princess,” I tell Meryn, trying to snap her out of it.

Her power is thrilling, but the person she wants to harm isn’t here.

She takes a breath and the shadows abate, but she looks wrecked. “It was from the very start,” she whispers into the bond. “From the very beginning of our relationship.”

Lucien reaches for his glass. After a long sip, he continues, swirling the golden liquid.

“Of course, such magic was immediately outlawed throughout Astreona as an abomination—a fundamental violation of autonomy. But it didn’t matter to Alistair. He continued to create thrall bracelets in secret, eventually leading to his exile from the kingdom.”

Meryn seems entirely unable to speak.

“Do you know how to get them off?” I ask him tightly. “Is it possible?”

Lucien shakes his head. “Only the creator can remove them. If the wearer can get it off themselves, by any means, they die. It’s one of the many reasons they are outlawed.”

The corruption in our magic. The way he’s using Meryn’s shadows. It’s

all going to stay until he’s dead.

Fuck.

At least he doesn’t seem to have any compulsion powers over her. If he had, surely he would’ve forced Meryn to come to him by now.

Meryn’s eyes go to her wrist and linger there.

I’m not the only one who sees it.

Lucien grabs her hand, face full of suspicion. In one swift move, he yanks up her sleeve, exposing the bracelet to the entire table.

An immediate shock wave rips through the room.

The Astreonans recoil, averting their eyes and darting away as if Meryn’s a plague victim and they don’t want to breathe her air. The only

exception among the court is Elias, who glares at the bracelet on her wrist.

Noemi and Venna and I all shift closer to her.

A tense moment of silence follows, followed by a white blur.

And then there’s a blade at Meryn’s throat.

One pounding beat of my heart he was sitting in his chair, the next, Lucien stands over Meryn with a dagger pointed at her jugular, his fangs bared, his eyes burning with malice.

I’m on my feet almost as quickly as Lucien, drawing a concealed blade.

“Hurry!” I send out a pulse to Cratos.

Lucien looks predatory.

He does a nice job of pretending to be insouciant, but I was waiting for the feral creature inside him to come out. Finally, I see it. The true danger lurking beneath his bored, playful veneer.

“Unhand her immediately,” I snap. “My direwolf is on his way, and kings taste just as good to him as anyone else.”

Noemi and Venna also have their weapons fully drawn, but Lucien doesn’t seem bothered by the various blades pointed at him or the threat of a fully grown, battle-tested direwolf closing in.

His grip on Meryn tightens, pinning her to her chair. “If the queen is here under Alistair’s control, she is a danger to all of us, including you. The thrall bracelets give my brother complete dominion over the wearer’s mind.”

That doesn’t make any sense. Meryn’s bracelet doesn’t seem to work that way.

While Lucien is talking, Meryn curves her wrist, angling her own blade slowly. Lucien tenses as it presses firmly against his side, right between his ribs where a simple shove would plunge it into vital organs.

His eyes widen; he wasn’t expecting her to bite back.

“This is a really fucking poor example of diplomacy,” she says, lip curling. “I’m not a thrall. I would be aware if I didn’t have any control over my own mind. Whatever Alistair did with those bracelets, mine works

differently.”

Lucien scoffs. “Would you be aware?”

“She’s telling the truth,” I say.

“Killian has influence over my powers, not my mind,” Meryn replies coldly. “He can sap some of them away from me and access the pack

bonds.”

Lucien pauses, brow relaxing slightly. And then he fluidly steps back.

The dagger leaves Meryn’s throat, and I drop mine at the same moment.

Distantly, I sense Cratos’s pace slow.

Lucien sits, and the Astreonans follow. Not without staring at the rest of us like we’re the aggressors, though. Meryn lifts her hand and lowers it, and Venna and Noemi return to their seats just as the Siphons did.

I don’t move. I stay standing right next to her, rage still coursing through me.

When Lucien sits, he stares at her for a few seconds.

Then he calmly says, as if he didn’t just threaten Meryn’s life, “I’ve never seen a bracelet work this way before.” He’s studying her anew.

Reconsidering. “I’ll need to consult with our librarians about this.”

“I have another question,” Meryn says, finally taking her seat, as do I.

“Your father, in that memory, looked to be in his midfifties. King Cyril—all the kings before him, in fact, who harbored Alistair—also looked middle- aged. But you’re hundreds of years old and you look young. How does it work?”

“I’m a thousand years old, actually,” he says snidely. He points to the rings in his ears. “We wear one for every hundred years.” I see now—five rings in each ear, ten total.

Elias wears one, so he must be a hundred years old. Ruby wore four; four hundred years.

“Thanks for the fashion lesson, but the aging?” Meryn says.

Lucien leans back in his chair. “The Siphon aging process is different from the human one, yes. We age at the same pace as humans until we’re in our early twenties, and then it slows greatly. However, our appearance depends on the quality of the blood we drink. With human blood, you can stay young and handsome forever.”

He waves a hand at his own extremely punchable face.

“Debatable,” Venna mutters into her food, and he sends her a scathing look. Good to know: Insulting his vanity gets under his skin.

“And if you don’t drink human blood?” Meryn prods.

Lucien eventually takes his eyes off Venna. “If you drink animal blood exclusively, yes, you will age. Your lifespan is still longer than an average human, but you will be weak. My father was an ascetic whose only mode of

pleasure was self-denial. We never saw eye to eye there. I suspect the Nocturnan kings did the same in order to fool the public.”

Meryn takes a breath. “There’s a lot for us to learn about Siphon powers.”

Another amused, seductive look comes over Lucien. “If you have questions, my personal chambers are always open to you, Queen Meryn.”

Something territorial and furious bursts to life in my gut.

Lucien’s teasing glance darts to me, his grin spreading.

I hope his personal chambers are open to me, too—because I’m going to cut his eyes out while he sleeps. He’ll still be alive, but he won’t be able to look at her like that ever fucking again.

Meryn ignores his innuendo. “Okay, so you’ve shown me the truth.

What are you proposing?”

Lucien leans forward, serious again. “Nocturna and Astreona do not need to be enemies. Our true enemy is Alistair Brightbane and his vessel Killian. I propose a permanent ceasefire and for our nations to become formal allies in the fight against him.”

Meryn blinks, unimpressed.

I slam a fist down on the table again, rattling all the stupidly gilded silverware, and Lucien lifts his brows. “Did you have something you wanted to interject, Alpha?” he says lazily.

“That’s it? A ceasefire and we become allies? That’s basically the exact same thing your general said to us at the border. Why the fuck did you drag us all the way out here?”

“Stark,” Meryn warns. “We need to hear him out.”

Lucien takes a sip of his golden liquor. “You had to experience Astreona if you were ever to believe that you’d been fed lies for hundreds of years.

Plus, I had to see your queen for myself and judge her, of course.”

He lingers on the word see for too long. The nerve of this asshole.

We glower at each other.

“Alpha Stark makes a good point,” Meryn says coolly. “I am enticed by the idea of a ceasefire and becoming allies, but I was expecting more from you. Do you have a plan for how to deal with your brother and his current host?”

Lucien leans his head on his palm, a catlike expression on his face.

“Queen Meryn, if you want more from me, I promise I am very giving.”

Before I can stand up and take a swing at him, Meryn reaches a hand down and grabs my knee, squeezing hard. Her touch on me after so long ignites a swirling, impossible need. “Ignore him. He’s just toying with you.”

“He’s toying with you, and that I cannot stand.”

Meryn relaxes her hold on my knee, and I want to grab it, hold her more tightly to me.

“King Lucien is testing boundaries like a rude child. If you let him rile you up, he’s just going to get worse. Cool your fucking head, Daemos, before you start a diplomatic incident.”

“It’s cute how you do that,” Lucien says, a smug smile creeping back onto his face. “You’re talking, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you keep glancing at each other. Not as subtle as you think.”

Meryn’s eyes slice back to him, sharpening. “You’re right. I’m not subtle. What I am is increasingly irritated.”

The shadows in the room start to sway again. So much for not letting him rile us up.

“So, do you have a plan or did you seriously just bring us here to judge me?” she continues. “Because my country is on the brink of tearing itself apart, and I’d really rather be there, muddling through this whole leadership thing, than here, watching you put on sword fighting shows for your own amusement and experiencing repulsive visions of your orgies!” Her voice

breaks on the last word, shrill.

The whole room goes silent.

Lucien sits back in his chair, letting the points of his fangs show as he smiles widely. “Sorry to hear you didn’t enjoy it. You are my plan, Queen Meryn. I’ve been a beloved ruler for hundreds of years because I know how to delegate.”

My brows furrow. What is he trying to say?

“Be direct,” Meryn demands.

Lucien straightens and says, “If you agree to work together, I will give you complete control of the Astreonan forces. They are yours to command.”