4
~Cleo ~
The rope bitinto my wrists with every sway of the horse, a constant reminder that I’d gone from a girl with foolish dreams of freedom to a prisoner riding through the gods-damned woods in the dead of night.
I sat stiff-backed on a thick black stallion that reeked of oil and smoke, my hands tied in front of me, barely able to balance. The saddle was hard. The wind cut like a knife through my cloak. And the man behind me saidnothing.
Not since we left the city hours ago. Not since he cornered me in the alley behind the orphanage, said a few words I couldn’t understand, and wrapped my mind in darkness.
That was the worst part.
The silence in my head.
Every time I tried to think clearly, to scream, tofight—a creeping shadow slithered across my thoughts and smothered them. It wasn’t sleep. It wasn’t exhaustion. It was magic, heavy and oily and unnatural, slinking through my soul like fog, softening everything it touched.
But something inside me…resisted.
A spark.
Small. Defiant.
It flared whenever the magic pressed too hard. Not enough to banish the darkness, but enough to keep me awake. Awake enough to know I was being led through cursed woods toward an unknown fate by a man I didn’t know, didn’t trust, and didn’t want.
Not even a little.
“So,” I said, forcing my voice to stay light as the horse jostled beneath me. “Do you always kidnap your brides, or is that just part of the whole Death Mage charm?”
He didn’t answer.
I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of his profile beneath the moonlight. Jarrik Morren. Tall. Handsome in a cold, vulture sort of way. Like marble carved into something pretty but dead.
His eyes were like obsidian chips, polished and soulless. His expression hadn’t changed once since we left the city—except for when I first tried to leap off the horse and run. Then, he’d murmured another spell, and the shadow had wrapped tighter around my thoughts like a noose.
Still, the spark burned.
“I’m serious,” I said, pressing. “Where are we going?”
“To the foothills of the Hollowspine Mountains,” he said at last, voice like cracking ice. “We’ll reach the outpost by dawn.”
“And then?”
“Then you’ll be mine.”
I choked on my own breath. “Excuse me?”
“Our bond will be sealed. You are my betrothed.”
“No, I’mnot.” I turned fully to glare at him. “I never agreed to this. You showed up with your scary spells and your blank faceand your spooky coat and justtookme. You’re not my fiancé. You’re a kidnapper with a god complex.”
“You were promised,” he said, utterly unfazed. “Your Matron signed the pact. The bond is recognized by The Spire.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what The Spire recognizes. I didn’t say yes.”
He looked at me then. Really looked. And something flickered behind those black eyes.
“You don’t need to say yes,” he said.
I turned away before I said something truly foolish. Like how badly I wanted to burn him.
