True North [True North series book 1/3]

I wrapped my arms around myself, holding my dress in place as Thoridor unlaced the back.

“Sire?” I asked, staring ahead.

“You may call me Thoridor,” he reminded me, “unless we’re in the presence of others.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Thoridor,” I echoed, before continuing my sentence, “what is it, that Warrian did? Was he poisoning me, using the Wisproot?”

The thought alone made me sick to my stomach. He had been the only one I had trusted since arriving here. Thoridor shook his head, which I only noticed because I could see it in his shadow on the floor in front of me.

“Wisproot is truly just a fragrant herb,” he said, “like Maista said. The problem wasn’t the Wisproot itself, it’s the reason he lied about it.”

I turned to look at him, clutching my dress a little tighter.

“Why did he lie?”

Thoridor clenched his jaw as he stared at me for a few heartbeats, as if he was contemplating what to tell me and what to leave out.

“Tell me,” I coaxed, “I can take it.”

“I think he tried feeding you his blood,” Thoridor finally said, looking away.

I gasped in shock. “What?!” I yelled, before collecting myself. “What— why would he— wait… no,” I stammered, “he couldn’t have. It really did work, the Wisproot. That night in the kitchen, once he had crumbled it over it, the soup tasted fine.”

Thoridor creased his forehead in thought. “Are you sure? Really think about it. How exactly did it play out?”

I bit my lip as I tried to recollect the events of that evening. I had spit out my soup as it had nearly made me vomit, and explained to Warrian that it tasted like blood. He had stood up, and had grabbed a sprig of Wisproot from the shelf, crumbling it over his bowl and stirred the soup again. “Try it now,” he had said, pushing the bowl my way.

My heart dropped as I realized what had happened. He had crumbled the Wisproot over his own bowl, and handed me that one. My head was spinning with the sense of betrayal.

“But why?” I asked, looking up at Thoridor, “why would he feed me his blood?”

Thoridor looked to be fighting an internal battle on whether or not to let me in on it.

“Please,” I begged him, “he was my only friend. I want to know what he tried to do.”

“I think he was trying to establish a mating bond,” Thoridor said, gauging my reaction.

“By feeding me his blood?!” I called out in horror, “that’s how that works? He told me it was bestowed onto you at birth! He never mentioned drinking blood!”

Thoridor sighed. “Shall we sit down?” he asked, gesturing into the chamber.

I nodded, and we went inside. There wasn’t really any place for us both to sit, so we sat down on the edge of the bed, as far away from one another as we could.

“The mating bond is indeed bestowed upon us at birth,” Thoridor confirmed once we had gotten comfortable. “But drinking blood is part of the mating ceremony. It seals the bond, if you will. Amongst other things.”

I swallowed. “So am I mated to him now?” I asked, my throat so dry I could hardly get any sound out.

“No!” Thoridor said too loudly — too quickly. “No. It doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work, then?” I asked, running out of patience.

“It only works if there already is a mating bond to begin with — it doesn’t work if the bond isn’t there. I think Warrian might have hoped that since you were human, he could install it onto you, by skipping to the rest of the ritual. He thought of you as a blank slate, I think.”

“But what if that’s true?” I asked softly, feeling queazy, “what if it worked, since I am human? I do… feel a certain way about him.”

Thoridor’s face darkened slightly. “Yes,” he growled, “you might… like him.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “So will I be mated to him if I don’t get out of here, then?” I asked.

“I wasn’t done explaining,” Thoridor snarled, making me recoil slightly.

Thoridor sighed and rose to his feet. “The blood ritual,” he began, “only works if both parties take part. Each party will have to drink some of the other one’s blood. But let me stress again —it does not establish a mating bond— it only works if the bond is already there.”

I rubbed my hands over my face. “I can’t believe he did that without my consent,” I mumbled, mulling over the thought in my head.

“It isn’t all bad,” Thoridor mumbled, clearly pained, “his intent was probably noble. The blood exchange is the main part of the protection the mating bond grants — weaving both lives together. He was most likely trying to link your life to his to protect you.”

I looked at my hands. “Oh,” I said quietly.

“Does that change how you feel about it?” Thoridor asked, sitting down on the bed again.

“Maybe a little,” I mumbled. “But he still should have told me.”

Thoridor’s eyes burned into mine as he responded. “He should have. He probably regrets not having told you now. I bet it’s killing him.”

I stuck both hands into my hair and let myself drop backward onto the bed. I thought about everything. “I am going to die tomorrow,” I mumbled, and tears welled up in my eyes again.

“You will not,” Thoridor said, “you are going to live.”

I scoffed. “I have never fought anyone. I wouldn’t know how. And your kind is infinitely stronger and quicker than I am. I wouldn’t last a sigh’s duration.”

Thoridor mumbled something below his breath. Then, he lay back too — just an arms length away from me. My eyelids suddenly felt heavy, as the day’s events washed over me like a wave.

“You might surprise yourself,” was all I heard him say before I drifted off to sleep, right there on the bed, next to the Crown Prince of Ardanis himself.