Saltbound and Bloodsworn (by Allison Franklin) novel Chapter 21

Saltbound and Bloodsworn

Chapter 21 Chapter Twenty-One

“Please!” Isla shouted as she surfaced from unconsciousness, waiting for the next lash to hit her back.

“Isla! It’s okay!” a female voice called.

Firm hands settled on her shoulders, urging her back down. She fought for a moment as her eyes raced around the room, trying to identify her surroundings. She was certainly not in the dungeons below the castle, but the walls and furniture looked somehow familiar. She was not back in the cold, damp bedroom she shared with Eloise either. She tried to remember the last thing that bad happened to her. She shut her eyes and recalled the sound of a door slamming

against stone.

“It’s okay, calm,” the female voice whispered.

Isla felt warmth radiating outward from the stranger’s hands, settling her nerves like a blanket warmed by a fire being placed over a young child. Her eyes

shot open. Delilah smiled softly down at her.

“Please, don’t touch me,” Isla asked, not liking how the witch could manipulate her emotions.

Delilah’s smile twitched slightly in hurt, but she did as she was asked. “You’re okay,” she repeated. “Prince Sylvan brought you back to his rooms. They won’t

hurt you again.”

Isla took another look around the room and realized why it seemed familiar. She’d been on her hands and knees cleaning it hours earlier. She sat up again,

this time slower, hissing as the wounds in her back pulled with the movement. She reached back and touched the exposed portion of skin. When she brought her fingers back to her front, she was surprised to see no blood. She felt along her back again and, sure enough, the wounds were no longer open.

Isla carefully got to her feet and walked to the full-length mirror to turn and look for herself. Her back was far more healed than she would have believed possible. The wounds weren’t completely closed; some of them were still bloody and torn. However, the majority, the smaller, thinner lashings, were already

turned to pink raised scats she would most likely carry for the remainder of her days.

“You did this?” she asked Delilah, turning to face the witch who remained sitting on the edge of the bed.

Delilah opened her mouth, then closed it, before smiling. “Mostly,” she finally answered.

Isla looked back at the mirror. “How?”

“Well, Prince Sylvan, he… he helped a little,” Delilah responded carefully, stepping off the bed and approaching with caution.

“The Mate Killer is no witch,” Isla protested.

“It’s your bond,” Delilah explained.

“Bond?”

“Your, uh, blood bond, I mean,” Delilah said. “Your connection allows some small healing to occur.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Isla said with a doubtful shake of her head. “Especially when the blood binding is forced.”

Delilah shrugged. “Maybe it’s his bloodline, either way, it doesn’t matter, does it? I applied a poultice, and it did the majority of the work.”

“Hm,” Isla said, looking around the room again. A bathtub had been brought in filled with water. A dress lay on the foot of the bed. She went to it and ran

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Chapter 21 Chapter Twenty-One

her hands over the fabric: “This dress is far too nice for a maid,” she said under her breath.

“It’s one of mine. I believe we are roughly the same size.”

“Thank you,” Isla said, shucking off what remained of Eloise’s maid uniform to put the dress on.

“What are you doing?” Delilah asked.

“Getting dressed so I may return to my room.”

“But… I believe Prince Sylvan would like you to remain here. You still have healing to do.”

Isla sighed and dropped her head forward for a moment to collect her thoughts before she raised her chin back up and straightened her spine, an act that caused pain to rip up her back. “I am a prisoner here. A slave. My duty is to clean the prince’s rooms, not live in them. I will return to where every other slave rests his or her head and when the sun comes up in…” She glanced toward the window and he pink that was starting to color the sky beneath the horizon. “An hour or so, I will return to my duties.”

“At least take a bath before you leave. You still have mud caked in your hair,” Delilah said, walking toward the tub and placing both palms on the edge. A few seconds passed and steam began to rise from the water.

“I do not wish to accept anything else from the Mate Killer and his…”

“I ordered the tub brought in, not the prince,” Delilah argued.

Isla sighed. It had been days since she felt water along her skin. Up until the night she entered the encampment, she would spend hours a day soaking in the waters of her homeland, either in the sea itself or the fresh water of its various creeks, rivers and lakes. She glanced at the door, remembering how the only bath she would receive once she walked through it was the one she could take using a rag and small bowl of dirty water. She gave a resigned nod: one last moment of weakness, of accepting a gesture, before resuming her lifetime of working for the people who destroyed her home.

Delilah busied herself by cleaning up the various herbs, vials and bowls she’d brought into the room with her while Isla walked to the tub and climbed in. Goosebumps rose over her flesh as she sank into the warm water. The water caressing her skin seeped into her soul. It did not have the effect of solace she sought from the water of Tridea, but it was enough to restore a bit of her spirit. She submerged her head below the water and stayed under the surface for as long as her breath would allow, a few minutes bordering on ten.

By the time she reemerged, Delilah was seated by the edge of the tub. She offered down a glass bottle with soap and shampoo, which Isla took without any more fight. The water had already taken its hold and she would stay within it for as long as she could.

“I hope you don’t mind the company,” Delilah said, her voice small. Isla gave her a curious look.

“Is there something you wish to say?” Isla asked, lathering the soap into her hair.

“I…” Delilah paused and took a deep breath. “I wondered if you knew anything of the magical properties in your land?”

“Magical properties?”

“The laws, the history, the… the source?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“When I was in Tridea, specifically the closer to Seavale we were, the more powerful the magic,” Delilah began. She readjusted herself as her excitement in discussing magic grew. “You see, magic isn’t something we’re born with. It’s harnessed from the elements: the air around us, the earth at our feet, the water

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Chapter 21 Chapter Twenty-One

flowing over the surface and beneath the ground. Witches are merely horn with the ability to feel the magic, gather it within themselves and express it. Most of the time, it’s a temporary borrowing. Whatever we cast expels the energy back to the earth. Unless it’s used maliciously, in which case the magic is distorted, changed, or destroyed altogether.”

Isla scoffed. “I suppose you have taken a lot of magic from this earth then, working with the Eredhal qily.”

Delilah’s face faltered slightly. She looked down at the pool of water tsla floated in and swallowed hard. “I admit, my soul has darkened alongside the prince.” She glanced up and met Isla’s eyes. “We are all prisoners in our own ways, Isla. Even him.”

Something about the sadness in her eyes made Isla pity the witch. She didn’t know anything about Delilah’s past nor her willingness to work for the Eredhal army. She cleared her throat and picked up a sponge to run it over her skin. “What is it you want to know?”

“It’s the water, isn’t it?” Delilah asked, her excitement restored. I could feel it when I stepped into the ocean near Seavale. The energy. The vibrations.”

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