Saltbound and Bloodsworn (by Allison Franklin) novel Chapter 12

Saltbound and Bloodsworn

Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

Sylvan rode through the streets of his family’s home with his helmet firmly in place. The entire city came out to celebrate his arrival and to toast his latest victory. There was nothing to celebrate, as far as he was concerned. Why would he celebrate the 150,000 men they’d lost? Or the over 350,000 men, women and children that had perished in Tridea? For what? Resources? Acclaim? Territory? Bragging rights? He was a man tasked with demolishing a civilization and he’d completed it. There should be a day of mourning, but instead the city threw confetti at his head and their daughters at his feet.

His steed, Morias, remained steady beneath him. This was nothing compared to the violence they normally encountered. He only hoped the men begging him to marry their daughters wouldn’t let them fall beneath Morias’ feet, as the beast knew no difference between a virgin maid and an enemy warrior.

*Can you believe this shit?” Nikolai asked, coming up beside him on his own horse, who shook his head with impatience at the crowd moving closer.

“Hm.”

“Thousands of husbands, fathers, sons won’t be returning and they’re out here celebrating,” Nikolai mocked, spitting at a man who stepped forward with a

bouquet of flowers.

“We’ll only be here long enough to get our next marching orders. We’ll be gone by dawn tomorrow,” Sylvan vowed.

*You sure you don’t want to sleep at least one extra night in a comfy bed?” Nikolai asked.

Sylvan guffawed. “Why? So the ground I sleep on the day after feels twice as hard?”

“And what of your prize?” Nikolai asked.

Sylvan tried not to turn in his saddle to look at Isla, who rode a few horses behind him. The last thing he needed was to draw too much attention to her. He should have listened to Nikolai and forced her to walk with the servants. Then no one would be questioning why a woman was riding with his highest ranking officers. Within the gates of Aerhart, something of that nature could only mean one thing: the prince had taken a mistress. He could only hope that having her ride beside Delilah would make people think he’d found a new witch to accompany him. Then again, they still believed Delilah to be a mistress. His hands tightened on the reins and Morias nearly reared in protest. Sylvan patted the stallion’s neck in apology but the beast merely threw his head at the

gesture.

Isla herself had no issue walking with the servants, or even the prisoners.

“Isn’t that what I am, Mate Killer? A prisoner of Eredhal?” she’d asked, aquamarine eyes blazing with fire behind the purple bags of exhaustion ringing

them.

“No, Isla of Tridea,” he’d responded, leaning into her space. “You’re a prisoner of mine.”

He couldn’t allow her to walk at the back of the line. Not when he knew how they would be treated as they walked along the market streets. They’d be covered with food scraps, mud and stone scars by the time they reached the courtyard of Aerhart castle. Sylvan and Isla’s emotions mingled and coalesced thanks to the mixing of bloods in their veins, making him fully aware of the anxiety rolling through her entire being. If he felt a single stone hit her, his beast would come forward and he’d kill half the civilians in attendance before his father would be able to command him to stop.

Nikolai grunted beside him. “By your response and stone expression, I can assume she will be accompanying us.”

“She’s my ma…” Sylvan cleared his throat. “Prize. It would be like me leaving Morias at home.”

“Good thing we don’t have to bring all of your prizes along every time we leave on a mission,” Nikolai mused. Sylvan looked over at him with a brow cocked

1. Nikolai smirked. “It would be quite the load.”

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0:47 am

Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven

page of his master’s grip: Sylvan reached across the space between them and Isla gasped as he caught a fistful of fabric between his hands and hauled her closer to him, nearly causing her to fall to the ground. Luoen squealed and the two horses knocked against each other. Sylvan’s breath was short and sharp and fained her face with its proximity. His blackened eyes gave nothing away, yet told her everything. Though the blackness hid his retinas, she could tell they moved from her gaze to her lips and back. She could hear the clamber of the men moving around them to avoid stopping but she could not take her eyes away from the enraged mate beside her who was one more taunt away from shifting. But… she couldn’t help herself. After all, he had made her his prisoner. It wasn’t her job or duty to make it easy for him.

“What’s the matter, Mate Killer? Afraid of a little competition?”

The snarl he wore shifted and though it morphed into a smile, the expression scared her more than the latter. The Prince closed the remaining distance between them. Isla’s shriek of surprise was swallowed whole by Sylvan’s mouth on hers. He stole the air from her lungs as he maneuvered his lips skillfully against hers until they parted for his further exploration. Isla liquified in his touch and, where once he was pulling her toward him, now his strength was holding her up. His tongue flicked against hers and she moaned. Then he shoved her back. Their lips disconnected with a sloppy smack. Isla wavered slightly in her saddle, overcome with the passion he’d just displayed… the possession.

Shaky fingers raised up to touch her swollen lips and her wide eyes swiveled to stare at him. His own lips were wet from their kiss but he didn’t do anything to dry them. His eyes were no longer black but gleaming silver and the brief smirk he flashed her was filled with boastful glory. He leaned toward her again and she jerked backward in case he had ideas of repeating the maneuver.

Instead all he did was whisper, “No, Isla, I’m not afraid at all.”

He sat back in his saddle, spine straight and prideful smirk firmly in place. He urged his stallion forward again with a far more gentle nudge. She sat frozen, shocked into stillness. Her fingers remained over her lips where she could still feel the raw power he’d reined in to only taste rather than devour. Her first kiss and it had been stolen like everything else… Yet… It felt like she’d always imagined… Like she’d always dreamed it would be when she’d found the right person… Her fated mate. The rope caught Lueon’s neck and the stallion made a disgruntled noise deep in his throat before trudging forward, his head hung slightly in shame. Isla looked ahead at the man now riding a few strides in front of her and wondered how the hell she was going to survive being at his

mercy.

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0:47 am

Saltbound and Bloodsworn

Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

Sylvan rode through the streets of his family’s home with his helmet firmly in place. The entire chy came out to celebrate his arrival and to toast his latest victory. There was nothing to celebrate, as far as he was concerned. Why would he celebrate the 150,000 men they’d lost? Or the over 350,000 men, women and children that had perished in Tridea? For what? Resources? Acclaim? Territory? Bragging rights? He was a man tasked with demolishing a civilization and he’d completed it. There should be a day of mourning, but instead the city threw confetti at his head and their daughters at his feet.

His steed, Morias, remained steady beneath him. This was nothing compared to the violence they normally encountered. He only hoped the men begging him to marry their daughters wouldn’t let them fall beneath Morias’ feet, as the beast knew no difference between a virgin maid and an enemy warrior.

“Can you believe this shit?” Nikolai asked, coming up beside him on his own horse, who shook his head with impatience at the crowd moving closer.

“Hm.”

“Thousands of husbands, fathers, sons won’t be returning and they’re out here celebrating,” Nikdlar mocked, spitting at a man who stepped forward with a

bouquet of flowers.

“We’ll only be here long enough to get our next marching orders. We’ll be gone by dawn tomorrow,” Sylvan vowed.

“You sure you don’t want to sleep at least one extra night in a comfy bed?” Nikolai asked.

Sylvan guffawed. “Why? So the ground I sleep on the day after feels twice as hard?”

“And what of your prize?” Nikolai asked.

Sylvan tried not to turn in his saddle to look at Isla, who rode a few horses behind him. The last thing he needed was to draw too much attention to her. He should have listened to Nikolai and forced her to walk with the servants. Then no one would be questioning why a woman was riding with his highest ranking officers. Within the gates of Aerhart, something of that nature could only mean one thing: the prince had taken a mistress. He could only hope that having her ride beside Delilah would make people think he’d found a new witch to accompany him. Then again, they still believed Delilah to be a mistress. His hands tightened on the reins and Morias nearly reared in protest. Sylvan patted the stallion’s neck in apology but the beast merely threw his head at the

gesture.

Isla herself had no issue walking with the servants, or even the prisoners.

“Isn’t that what I am, Mate Killer? A prisoner of Eredhal?” she’d asked, aquamarine eyes blazing with fire behind the purple bags of exhaustion ringing

them.

“No, Isla of Tridea,” he’d responded, leaning into her space. “You’re a prisoner of mine.”

He couldn’t allow her to walk at the back of the line. Not when he knew how they would be treated as they walked along the market streets. They’d be covered with food scraps, mud and stone scars by the time they reached the courtyard of Aerhart castle. Sylvan and Isla’s emotions mingled and coalesced thanks to the mixing of bloods in their veins, making him fully aware of the anxiety rolling through her entire being. If he felt a single stone hit her, his

beast would come forward and he’d kill half the civilians in attendance before his father would be able to command him to stop.

Nikolai grunted beside him. “By your response and stone expression, I can assume she will be accompanying us.”

“She’s my ma…” Sylvan cleared his throat. “Prize. It would be like me leaving Morias at home.”

“Good thing we don’t have to bring all of your prizes along every time we leave on a mission,” Nikolai mused. Sylvan looked over at him with a brow cocked up. Nikolai smirked. “It would be quite the load.”

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Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

The tops of men he’d brought home with him filed into serhart Castle’s courtyard. Morias came to a halt, though his feet continued to pound as he waited

fur a stable boy to intimidate. The man who had drawn the short straw hesitantly stepped forward. Sylvan could feel his stallion becoming giddy at the boy’s trepidation. One strike of Morias’ bared teeth had the stable boy stumbling back, tripping over a cobblestone and landing with a pronounced thud in a

steaming pile of horse shit.

Sylvan sighed and got down from his mount. “Call Dimitri, he’ll get my horse squared away.”

Dimitri, the oldest man in the yard, was the only one not intimidated by the black destrier. Most likely because he’d been born in the stable and raised around stallions his entire life. Morias was merely another prince with a big head and inflated ego. Dimitri was never impressed. A minute later Dimitri

stepped out, his head shaking. He swatted the stable boy on the back of the head as he passed.

“I’m too old for this, Sylvan,” Dimitri said.

“Then find a stable boy who doesn’t piss his pants at the sight of a warhorse,” Sylvan snapped back.

“The day after I do,” Dimitri said, snatching the reins of the stallion who was nuzzling the old man’s hair with his lips. “I’m checking out of here for good.

You hear me?”

Sylvan leaned forward and grinned. “And I will gladly drag you back from hell myself because you aren’t dying before I do, old man.”

“At the rate you been going, it won’t be long.”

Sylvan noticed Isla watching the exchange from a few paces away, her horse, Luoen, pressing his forehead into her chest as if seeking comfort.

“The grey horse belongs to me,” Sylvan said, removing his gloves. “Treat him as you would Morias, but try not to be an old coot to him. He’s actually got a decent personality and I’d hate for you to sour him like you did Morias as a colt.”

Dimitri’s right eye squinted as he assessed the grey stallion from afar. He thrust Morias’ reins into Sylvan’s chest and limped toward the horse in question. He shooed Isla back with a shake of his hand and her eyes widened but she complied. Luoen snorted.

“Ah, come off it, you fool,” Dimitri hissed.

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