Bloodbound Crown

Chapter 2: Blood-Moon Marking

The morning chill bit at Nora's fingers as she trudged through the servants' corridor, the envelope heavy against her chest. Her palms itched with a fever of anticipation and dread. She'd barely slept, nerves fraying with every step toward the sealed chamber where Prince Leon writhed behind frosted glass.

“Ser Nellis said keep distance," warned Mira, a timid maid with hollow cheeks, falling into step beside her. The two hurried down the hall, boots echoing against the polished floors. “But I—I heard what you did last night. Some say the prince's roar shattered windows."

Nora grimaced. “Tall tales." She tried to sound indifferent, but her heart pounded against her ribs. “The Healer's court will have me sewn up in stitches before noon."

Mira shook her head. “No, listen. My cousin's friend—he's a tubelancer—said the High Healer summoned the Lord Chancellor at dawn. They plan to test your blood."

Nora halted, eyelids lifting. “Test how?" She pressed her back against the wall; its cold marble soothed her racing pulse.

“Physiological—alchemy. They believe your… lullaby effect might be tied to some substance in your veins." Mira's voice quivered. “If they confirm it, you'll be—"

A harsh cough from the corridor entrance startled them. Rudwick stalked out, overseer's whip at his hip. His glare locked onto Nora. “Tardy girls," he growled. “Blood-moon intrigues don't excuse shirking chores."

Nora bowed her head. “Forgive me, Overseer. I'll fetch more coal right away."

He snorted and stalked past. Behind him, Mira offered a sympathetic look before turning away.

Nora exhaled. Coal, indeed. She needed a distraction. “I'll see you later," she murmured and slipped down another hall toward the kitchens—past grated windows where Leon's hoarse voice echoed.

Through the glass, she glimpsed him slumped against the stone wall, blood crusting his tunic. His once-proud posture now slumped, shoulders trembling. Guards fanned around him like vultures, eyes wary.

“Bring her out," ordered High Healer Meredis, her voice clipped. A pair of attendants flanked the door. As they drew back the heavy wooden slab, Nora could see the flicker of Meredis's torchlight.

She stepped forward, cloak swirling. A hush rippled through the courtyard. The prince's golden eyes locked onto her, pupils narrowing with instinctive recognition. His teeth bared, but no roar came—just ragged breath.

“Servant," Meredis began, voice cold as winter. “Step into the chamber."

Nora nodded, throat tight. She crossed the threshold, stone floor cold beneath her boots. The air was thick with antiseptic herbs and simmering antiseptic? No, reactive essences for alchemy, she realized. Vials of crimson fluids lined the walls—liquid incarnations of life and death.

“Here." An attendant pushed a small stool forward, then drew back.

Nora perched on the edge and folded her hands in her lap. She forced steady breaths, recalling her father's dictum: stay calm, trust your body.

“Remove your glove," Meredis instructed. “Slowly."

Nora peeled off her right glove, revealing a palm as pale as bone. Her pulse fluttered beneath translucent skin—visible if one looked closely.

“Heal." The prince's hiss was low, almost a plea.

Meredis snorted. “Silence," she snapped, then to her assistants: “Draw blood—test for trace cathorium." She gestured at a hovering spectrometer that hummed to life.

The prince leaned forward, pressing a fist against the glass. “Open it!" he demanded, voice hoarse.

Meredis waved a dismissive hand. “No. We control the procedure. Servants may not touch royal personages." She fixed Nora with a hard stare. “Stay still."

From the side, Nora heard a muted thud. A slender figure in emerald robes appeared behind Meredis—Lord Chancellor Vorn, his face half-hidden by hood.

“Meredis," he said softly, “proceed."

Meredis dipped a polished lancet into crimson oil, then pricked Nora's fingertip. A droplet of scarlet arched into a crystalline vial. Nora clenched her jaw as the momentary sting bloomed across her flesh.

“Pressure," Meredis ordered. One assistant pressed a clean rag to the wound. The prince's eyes narrowed.

The spectrometer's light flared. A shrill beep echoed. Two aides peered at the readings.

Meredis frowned. “Impossible." She scanned the display. “The readings… there are trace elements of rare Canglan biomarkers. Undetectable without hyper-spectral analysis."

Nora's heart thundered. Her father had coded those biomarkers—proof of his father's work for Project Symbiont. She struggled to breathe evenly.

Vorn stepped forward. “Well?"

Meredis hesitated. “Anomalous. The servant's blood contains a symbiont catalyst. That explains the lullaby effect—but it's volatile under blood-moon influence."

Leon's golden eyes gleamed. “Then test mine."

Vorn inclined his head. “Bring him in." A guard opened the far door and eased the glass shield aside. Leon stalked forward, lithe despite his injury, cloak trailing like spilled wine. He stood before Nora, gaze locked on her arm.

“Step aside," growled Meredis, but Vorn shook his head.

“Let him," he said quietly. “I want to see."

Leon reached out, hand trembling. Nora held still as his fingers closed around her wrist. Beneath his grip, she felt a rush—a thrum of heat, as though her blood urged to escape her veins and chase fire.

He closed his eyes, breathing raggedly. The lancet in Meredis's hand wavered.

Meredis hissed, “Stop that!"—but Vorn silenced her with a raised hand.

Slowly, Leon pricked his thumb against Nora's palm, drawing a bead of his own blood that mingled with hers on the stone floor.

The assistants recoiled. The spectrometer buzzed, lights spinning faster.

“By the gods," breathed Meredis.

Nora stifled a gasp as her blood entwined with Leon's. A pulse of warmth spread from his wound at her neck—she'd forgotten its ache until now. Pain lanced upward, but she met his gaze, unflinching.

Then the vitals monitor cried out. A wave of energy rippled across the chamber, rattling vials and torches.

Leon staggered back, breath stolen. Nora's vision shimmered; the chamber's edges rippled like heat haze.

When her sight steadied, she saw the readings: a perfect resonance. The prince's alpha instability had stabilized. His chest rose and fell, calm for the first time in days.

“Remarkable." Vorn rubbed his chin, eyes alight with calculation. “The servant's blood can anchor his feral episodes."

Leon sagged, head lolling. Guards caught him. “Loyal!" he croaked. “I… feel…"

Nora blinked. His skin glowed faintly where their blood merged—silver threads beneath pale flesh.

Meredis shook her head. “This violates every code of royal sanctity. You've bonded with him, servant."

Vorn's lips curved. “An error, perhaps. But one we cannot ignore. The trials begin at dawn—let us see if the bond holds through ceremony."

Leon lurched as the pain of his wound seeped into Nora's body. She blinked through blurred vision, words echoing: his pain… her pain… their lives intertwined.

They marched him away, Meredis already barking orders: “Prepare isolation wards! The Court of Seal will convene at first light!"

Nora stumbled outside on unsteady legs. Mira rushed to her side. “They'll keep you for observation. You must escape."

Nora shook her head, gaze fixed on the closed trial hall ahead. Crimson flakes drifted in the archway, drifting like heralds of doom. “No," she whispered. “I will stay—learn everything."

Mira swallowed. “They'll kill you—or worse."

Nora pressed a hand over the still-aching puncture. The pain had faded, replaced by something colder and sharper: purpose. “They took my parents. I will not cower again."

Footsteps approached. It was Rudwick, whip in hand, eyes narrowed. “A servant marked by princes. The palace will bury you beneath the floors, girl."

Nora squared her shoulders. “Let them try." She forced a grim smile. “I have nowhere else to go."

Rudwick's sneer flickered, uncertain. Before he could retort, a horn blared from the courtyard: the trials had begun.

Nora took a steadying breath. The Blood Moon's crimson light filtered through stained glass, painting her cloak in streaks of red. She stepped forward, soul braced for the storm.

Inside the trial hall, trumpets sounded as favored noblewomen processed toward the dais. Elsa Whitlock—doomed to wed Leon—glided ahead, her silken gown storm-white.

At the throne, Leon waited, his wound bound in ornate splints. His eyes flicked to the doorway as the next procession neared.

Nora slipped into shadow between two marble columns. In the silent space, she pressed back her hood and stared at the prince.

His gaze found hers. He blinked, recognition dawning—and fear.

Behind his composure, the symbiont's glow pulsed under their bond. Neither dared breathe too deeply, lest the fragile balance shatter.

The herald cried, “Long live the Blood Moon!"

A hush fell.

And in that stillness, Nora Awen's fate—and the prince's—hung in the balance of crimson light and hidden blood.

Nora's breath caught as the heavy flood of torchlight revealed Elsa Whitlock ascending the dais. Elsa's gown gleamed like freshly fallen snow—pristine and unblemished. The courtiers murmured approval. It should have comforted Nora… but instead, the acrid scent of jealousy stung her lungs.

High Herald Garrick's voice thundered through the hall: “By decree of the Crown, the Blood-Moon Trials commence. Elsa Whitlock, step forward."

Elsa's pale cheeks bloomed pink as she curtsied. Leon's expression was unreadable—royal reserve perfected through years of duty. He inclined his head once, then fixed his gaze on the closed doors where the servants' entrance lay hidden.

Nora pressed her back against cool marble, heart hammering. She was meant to remain unseen—but Elsa's hush tone carried on the wind: “Please… spare me." Elsa's whisper reached Nora's ears alone.

Before Nora could decide, Queen Regent Aveline swept into the chamber, skirts rustling like autumn leaves. “Stand aside," she commanded the guards flanking the aisle. They complied, creating a narrow corridor.

Elsa's eyes widened. “Why—"

Queen Aveline's gloved hand dipped into the folds of Elsa's skirt and produced a slender needle—one like Meredis's. “For the safety of the Crown Prince," she announced, voice icy. “Precaution requires proof the marked blood match holds under formal conditions."

Shock rippled through the audience. Nora's throat went dry. A formal blood test during the trial? Only servants served as tools; nobles never donned breach of decorum so brazenly.

Elsa's gaze shot toward the hidden entrance, then locked on the dais. She swallowed. “Let it be fair." Her chin rose, voice trembling but resolute.

Queen Aveline stepped back. “Very well. Elsa Whitlock, present your arm."

Elsa extended a slender forearm; her gloved hand peeled aside, revealing pale skin. The needle dipped, a quick prick. A single drop of blood welled on her wrist. The High Herald seized it and fastened it to a spinning disc at the dais's base—an archaic but trusted mechanism for elemental wards.

Next, Queen Aveline's gaze flicked to the columns where Nora snarled by the marble. “And… the true marked bondmate." All eyes turned. A gasp ran through the hall.

Leon's voice cut through like a blade: “Bring her forth."

Two guards hurried across the floor, parting curtains. Torchlight illuminated Nora's face. Elsa's gasp echoed loudest.

Nora's stomach dropped—every whisper, every knife-eyed courtier's stare bore into her like hot iron. She forced her shoulders back, stepping into the corridor's beam.

Elsa's hand flew to her mouth. “No!"

Nora barely registered her own shiver. She crossed the aisle, boots clicking on polished stone. At the foot of the dais, she knelt, head bowed. Leon's gaze flicked to her, curiosity—perhaps even something darker—in his golden eyes.

“Arise," Leon murmured, voice low but audible. The hall stiffened.

Nora obeyed, meeting Elsa's frightened stare.

Queen Aveline cleared her throat. “Let the blood bind be tested." She gestured to Meredis, who stepped forward with the needle.

Nora lifted her sleeve without hesitation. The needle pricked her forearm. She bit her lip, welcoming the familiar sting.

Leon stepped down the dais with unsteady grace. Each of his steps echoed, hushed gasps rising. He reached out, fingertips brushing Nora's wrist. Electricity—or magic—sizzled between them. Meredis paused, brow furrowed.

“Hold still," Leon whispered, pressing his palm to Nora's wound. “For the crown."

At once, Nora felt waves of heat, then an undercurrent of power pulling her blood toward him. The spinning disc at the dais spun faster, glowing red-hot in its basin.

The audience leaned forward as Regis Garrick pronounced, “The bond is… true. The Blood-Moon mark remains stable under trial."

A thunder of murmurs broke out. Some courtiers bowed; others frowned. Elsa's knees trembled. Queen Aveline's mask of composure cracked.

Leon withdrew his hand. Nora's vision blurred; her entire arm tingled where their blood had mingled. She fought for control, focusing on the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Queen Aveline turned to Leon. “Prince Seres, do you accept this bond—"

Leon's gaze swept from Elsa to Nora. His voice was quiet, but the hall fell silent. “I… acknowledge the bond." He hesitated, then added, softer so only Nora heard, “Mistaken though it was."

A tremor rippled through the chamber. Elsa drew back, tears in her eyes. Queen Aveline's lips compressed into a thin line.

“Let the Trials proceed," Queen Aveline declared, voice brittle. “But take heed: any further anomalies, and both bondmates shall face the Court of Seal."

With that, she swept from the hall. The doors clanged shut. Torchlight dimmed as servants struck extra lamps.

Leon paused mid-step, gaze locked on Nora. In that charged moment, something shifted—a question in his eyes about why she'd risk everything for him.

Nora bowed her head. “I—"

Leon raised a hand. “Enough," he said, voice low. “You're dismissed." His guard captain stepped forward to escort Nora out.

But before she could move, Rudwick's boot caught her ankle. She stumbled, catching herself against the marble base of the dais.

Rudwick hissed, “You're not going anywhere."

Leon's eyes narrowed. “Overseer Rudwick." His voice carried the weight of command. “Release her."

Rudwick hesitated, anger flashing across his features. Then he stepped back, head bowed.

Leon turned on his heel and strode up the dais, Elsa collapsing into a velvet bench. The court murmured again, uncertain of what they'd witnessed.

Nora remained kneeling until the whispering guard helped her up. She brushed lint from her skirt, pulses still racing.

As she passed the throne, Leon caught her arm in a swift motion. Whispering so only she heard, he said, “Meet me at the north ramparts after dusk. Come alone."

His breath was warm against her ear. Then he released her, demeanor returning to royal indifference as he perched on the throne's edge.

Nora stood frozen as the guards parted before her. Only after she'd passed beyond the columns did she dare look back.

Leon's gaze met hers one last time, conflicted and lingering. Then he looked away as the chamber doors closed.

Outside, snow fell silent. The crimson flakes drifted across the palace stones, as if the Blood Moon itself had sanctioned the bond.

Nora tucked the hushed command into her heart and melted into the shadows, knowing the true trial was only just beginning.