BLOODBOUND: Fated To The Beast

The great hall of Mambila was quiet. Too quiet for a wedding of the only princess of the kingdom. Yvaine stood at the centre of the hall, her fingers curled lightly around the folds of her gown. The council sat in rows; their expressions were a mix of grim faces, blank, and a relief shining in their eyes. Outside, the chanting had finally quieted, but the words were still muttered by some. Better one than all. Better one than all. She had not been told the name of her husband to be. In fact, she had not been told anything except that there would be a wedding tonight and that she was the bride. She glanced at her father. He looked like he had not slept in days. Her mother’s hands were folded tightly in her lap and her eyes wet. Yvaine looked away because if she didn’t, she would break down. The priest stepped forward. "Bring in the groom." The trumpets blared. The doors at the far end groaned open. The prickling started at the back of her neck the moment the doors opened. She stilled. She knew that feeling. She had felt it in the forest and outside the council chamber and both times, it had meant the same thing. Then she heard his boots on the stone floor. He walked without acknowledging anyone. He was cloaked in black, tall and broad, taller than any man in the room. Everyone sat on edge and lowered their eyes. Even the torches seemed to dim for a moment. He stopped before her. The priest was speaking but his words didn't reach her. She was aware of nothing except the figure standing inches away and the growing prickling feeling at the back of her neck. Then, slowly, he reached up and pushed back his hood. She looked up and her eyes widened as she saw the calm emerald green eyes. But before she could think of anything else, the memory of that face hit her. It was him. The man from the forest. The beast of that night. Her stomach dropped. She wanted to speak, to scream, to run. To shout before everyone that he was the beast from the cursed forest and that she had seen what he was. But the words died in her throat. To reveal him was to reveal herself and for that, her life would not end in marriage but on the executioner’s block. So she stayed silent, forcing air into her lungs. She kept her face composed while her heart did everything it wanted behind it. His gaze flicked to her. His lips curved slightly into what should have been a smile and her heart picked up its pace. The priest's voice rose, calling upon the gods in ancient words. Words of union and binding and fate. Yvaine barely heard them. She was too focused on making sure that her shaky hands didn’t betray her. Just then, his hand found hers. She startled slightly despite herself. His palm was warm, warmer than she expected. The heat spread from his hands into hers, travelling up her arm before she could decide what to do with it, and she pulled her attention back to the priest’s voice. "I bind myself to you," he said. His voice was low but it was heard across the hall. “I…” her voice caught when it was her turn. Everyone in the hall tensed as the groom’s brow furrowed at her faltering words. His hand tightened once around hers, as if he was steadying her. "I bind myself to you," she said, quickly, before she could think about the consequences of the words. "Bound as one," the priest declared. Outside, the people cheered. She could hear the difference. It was a sound of relief. The war was averted. Mambila would survive. One life for thousands. She tried to pull her hand back. His grip tightened, and his eyes told her not to try again. So she stood still, her hand in his, while the hall celebrated around them. … The feast continued throughout that night. People sang too loudly and wines were poured freely. She felt like a spectator in her own life. She only smiled when smiled to. When the torches finally burned low and the house came, she walked out of the great hall for the first time since she entered. Her mother was waiting at the palace gates and immediately she saw her, she crossed to her and let her pull her into a tight embrace. Then, she pressed her lips near Yvaine’s ear. "You are different, Yvaine," she whispered. "You have always been different. You’ll find out why in this marriage. Go. May the gods watch over you.” Yvaine pulled back slowly and looked at her mother's face. Her mother wiped her eyes quickly, the way she always did, like a queen was never to be seen crying. Yvaine nodded once. She understood. Her father was standing a pace behind, his fists clenched at his sides, unable to look at her directly. She walked to him anyway and put her arms around him. He went still with surprise before his arms came around her and held on too tight. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Father is so sorry." “It’s okay, Father,” she said, breaking the hug. “When everything is settled, I'll come back." Her father pressed a kiss to her temple and stepped back. He looked at her like he was memorising her face and she didn’t know why that made her heart ache the way it did. She turned and climbed into the carriage without looking at the man she had married. She heard him swing onto his horse. As the wheels began to move, she pressed her palm to the glass and watched her parents at the gate until the dark took them. She sat back and told herself that she would be back soon. She would get the answers to her questions, and she would be back. She held onto that thought like a mantra. … At the border, the escort bowed and turned back. She watched them go. Then it was only her and the man she had married and his men and the road and the night. The moment they crossed the border, the air changed. It grew colder. Her eyes grew heavy and she fought it for a while before she stopped fighting. Then the carriage stopped. Through the glass, she heard his voice. He was saying words she didn't understand in a low voice. Words that didn't belong to any language she had heard before. Then the darkness outside split open. She had no word for what she was looking at. Whatever waited on the other side was deeper than anything the dark had ever looked like before. The cold hit her and then, the carriage rolled forward into it. Everything went completely still. She couldn’t hear any sound nor the wheels or the wind. She didn't know how much time had passed. She was half asleep with her cheek against the cool glass when a loud sound reached her. Her eyes flew open. She straightened and pressed her face to the glass and looked out. Her eyes went wide. The last trace of sleep disappeared completely.