Path Of The Broken

7. Bound-1

7

Bound

Kyle sat, legs crossed on the training mat with his eyes closed, concentrating on the simple act of breathing. There were no distractions around him or on him. He was wearing a deep blue loose-fitting shirt and light trousers. His black hair had grown long enough since he’d left the palace to become irritating and was tied back to keep it out of his eyes while he exercised. For the first time since childhood, he was unarmed.

The breathing exercises helped to calm and focus his mind. The whispering voices of other Kin, and those in transition, echoed through his mind. He ignored them. Their conversations weren’t for him.

Kyle inhaled deep into his lungs and held the breath for a moment. In his mind's eye he saw the veil, swirling around him, yet he made no move to control it. Exercising control, he exhaled, concentrating on the breath leaving his body.

He’d lost count of how many days he’d been here. He wasn’t even sure where here was. It wasn’t Vallantia, or even in the realm at all. Of that he was certain. Simon had not asserted control over his mind the way he’d expected. Unknown to him, another had been present. Irritation surged within when he thought back to those days and the consequences he now lived with because of his actions. Kyle pushed his aggravation to one side. His mistress ignored him for now, but if he worked himself up too much it would attract her attention, which was not something he wanted.

Instant recognition and shock warred within him as the former queen, Alex’s mother, created a bond between them, though he admitted grudgingly that the bond restored calmness to him. Unlike the bonds that Alyssa had burned into his mind and body, the forging of these bonds did not hurt. They were simply there, and at times when he needed it he felt her presence, calming his mind and restoring his barriers. Then when he was calm again, she withdrew. It was perfect. Or at least he’d thought so at first, before he’d realised his new mistress was not sane herself. There were moments where he could feel the madness in her mind rise to consume her, even though it wasn’t the madness he associated with the Sundered.

She had brought him to this place—her home, he guessed. He gathered it was a large sprawling estate all on one level since he’d seen no sign of stairs. He knew it was near the water since he could hear the waves crashing on rocks, although she refused to allow him out to explore his new surroundings. She’d had him disarm. He had seen none of his weapons since then. Weeks passed; months. That time was vague to him, almost like the memory of a nightmare. Slowly he’d come back to himself. She’d kept that part of the bargain. Kyle shuddered at the thought of trying to deal with the surging, increasing power of the veil running though him now by himself. To his surprise he was gaining control back, bit by bit, even more so when his mistress’s attention turned elsewhere, and she was sane.

Demons still plagued his sleep at night. Memories of the innocent people he’d killed in his madness flashed in his mind. Sometimes this brought despair; other times the need to kill rose. Those moments terrified him. At least now it did. Before he'd come under Alyssa's control, his kills had been clean, with clear treason against the Crown. After the toxin had been administered and Alyssa had inserted her insidious bonds, his kills had become sickening. She had been driving him to madness. In contrast, Joanna asserted her control when madness struck him, shunting aside the rising bloodlust, restoring balance. At his worst, she forced him into a deep, dreamless sleep. Other times the shocking images and feelings that bombarded his brain were not his own, but hers. He was powerless to block them out, to block her out when she succumbed to psychosis. On those occasions Edward, Kat or Cal would intervene when they could, allowing him some peace from her raging thoughts. Kyle vowed that if he managed against all odds to regain his freedom, he would never let another bind him to their will.

Worry about what he would become had driven him when he’d asked for Simon’s help; worry about what he would be forced to do if he judged wrong; shame for not being able to bring himself to ask Kat for help. Yet Simon had been their friend and had fought with them during the Sundered War. Kyle had battled with himself, but believed that without help he would not have a chance. No one would have. He had been losing control of his power, of himself.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Kyle let his mind wander back to that moment he'd allowed Joanna to enslave his mind.