Chapter 18 What They Take Once You’re Bound
1183 Words
The elders wasted no time.
They never did.
By sunrise, the marriage was no longer a quiet strategy whispered behind carved doors. It had become a tool—passed from hand to hand, examined, sharpened.
By midday, it was a weapon.
I learned this when I was summoned—not as Tala of the Greenwood Line, not as the forest’s reluctant bridge—but as Datu Kael’s wife.
The title sat strangely on my shoulders.
Heavy.
Unfamiliar.
Useful.
They seated me at the council table for the first time.
Not beside Kael.
But opposite him.
That alone told me everything.
“The binding has stabilized the forest’s agitation,” the chief elder said, fingers steepled. “Which proves our decision correct.”
Kael said nothing.
His face was composed, eyes distant, as if he were already bracing for what came next.
“We will proceed with reinforcing border settlements,” another elder continued. “Under your authority, Datu Kael—and with your wife’s… influence.”
I stiffened.
“My influence?” I asked calmly.
The elder smiled. “The forest listens to you now.”
No.
It listens because it thinks it owns me.
“You want me to speak for you,” I said.
“We want you to remind the forest of its obligations,” he replied smoothly.
Kael’s gaze snapped to me then.
Sharp.
Warning.
I met it evenly.
“You want me to threaten it,” I said.
“A gentle word,” the elder corrected. “From a wife invested in her husband’s success.”
Kael pushed back from the table slightly. “She will not be used this way.”
The elder turned to him mildly. “Datu, your marriage has already changed the balance of power. Whether you like it or not, she is now part of your authority.”
I felt something cold slide through my chest.
This was it.
This was what Mama warned me about.
They were not interested in balance.
They were interested in control.
“And if I refuse?” I asked.
The room went quiet.
The elder smiled again.
“Then the court may begin to question how… complete this marriage truly is.”
Kael went very still.
The implication was unmistakable.
I stood.
“That will not be necessary,” I said.
Kael’s head snapped toward me. “Tala—”
“I will speak to the forest,” I said calmly.
His jaw tightened.
The elders relaxed.
Satisfied.
And just like that, they had won something they hadn’t earned.
⸻
Kael did not speak to me afterward.
Not during the walk back through the halls.
Not when the doors to our chambers closed behind us.
Not until he finally said, very quietly, “You should have told me.”
I turned to face him. “You would have stopped me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why.”
He looked at me like I’d struck him.
“They are exploiting you,” he said tightly.
“I know.”
“They are exploiting us.”
I crossed my arms. “You told me this marriage was strategy. This is strategy.”
“This is sacrifice,” he shot back. “And you promised me—”
“I promised nothing,” I said softly.
Silence stretched between us, thick and brittle.
Finally, he turned away. “Next time you intend to walk into a blade, inform me first.”
The door shut behind him.
Hard.
⸻
Luntian found me an hour later, crouched on the floor, staring at nothing.
She squatted in front of me. “So. How badly did the elders ruin everything today?”
“They threatened to question my marriage.”
She blinked. “Already?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impressive,” she said thoughtfully. “I was expecting at least three days.”
I snorted despite myself.
She leaned closer. “Did Kael yell?”
“No.”
“Oh no,” she said grimly. “That’s worse.”
She plopped down beside me. “You know what this means, right?”
“That I’ve ruined everything?”
“That the court is now deeply invested in your sleeping arrangements.”
I stared at her. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”
“They’re going to assign attendants.”
My blood ran cold. “They wouldn’t.”
“They absolutely would.”
As if summoned by fate itself, a timid knock sounded at the door.
We both froze.
Luntian whispered, “If it’s a mattress inspection, I’m committing treason.”
I opened the door to find two young attendants holding baskets of linens, herbs, and—unmistakably—fertility charms.
One smiled nervously. “For… marital comfort.”
Luntian burst out laughing.
Full-bodied. Unrestrained.
She wheezed. “Oh, this is fantastic.”
I closed my eyes. “Please leave.”
“We were instructed—”
“Leave,” I repeated.
They fled.
Luntian wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know this is awful. But the look on their faces—”
“I’m going to be sick.”
“No you’re not,” she said cheerfully. “You’re going to survive this out of pure spite.”
⸻
That night, the forest stirred again.
Not violently.
Expectantly.
I stood at the window, watching moonlight catch on leaves, feeling the pull deepen.
The elders wanted proof.
The forest wanted continuity.
And Kael—
Kael is more distant.
The memory of the night before—of skin, breath, surrender—felt like something that had happened to someone else.
He had withdrawn, as if the intimacy had only reminded him how dangerous it was.
A knock sounded behind me.
He stood in the doorway, expression unreadable.
“They’re watching,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
“If they believe this marriage is hollow—”
“They’ll force it to be real,” I finished.
He nodded once.
Another silence.
Longer.
More dangerous.
“I won’t let them use you again,” he said finally.
I turned to face him. “Then what do you suggest?”
His eyes flicked briefly to the bed.
Then away.
“I suggest,” he said, voice tight, “we give them enough truth to stop them asking questions.”
My heart began to race.
“You don’t mean—”
“I mean,” he said evenly, “we let them believe what they already want to believe.”
The forest hummed softly outside.
Waiting.
“And if I say no?” I asked.
His gaze met mine—dark, steady.
“Then the elders will escalate.”
“And if I say yes?”
His jaw clenched.
“Then I lose the last excuse I have to stay away.”
The words landed between us—heavy, dangerous, unresolved.
Before either of us could move, the ground shuddered sharply.
A root cracked through the stone beneath the window.
Not a warning.
A demand.
Kael stepped closer.
The distance between us vanished.
The world held its breath.
- Writer
