Saltbound and Bloodsworn (by Allison Franklin) novel Chapter 8

Saltbound and Bloodsworn

Chapter 8 Chapter Eight

Sylvan walked out of his tent with new set of tension weighing down his shoulders. He couldn’t understand the level of devotion Isla felt toward her queen. He wondered if the same fate were to befall his own mother, even his father, if their people would drop to their knees and mourn or merely shed a single tear and ready themselves for his brother, Tristan, to take the throne.

Sylvan had to admit that the Tridea queen’s bravery when faced with her fate was admirable. To avoid inevitable bloodshed, she had told all her guards to stand down. The select team of a dozen men he had organized to enact his, hopefully, final violent crime of the war had practically strolled through the gates of Seavale. She waited for them in her room. Sylvan had gone in alone.

She only asked one question of him. Had he known? Had Alpha Slade been warned about what the Mate Killer’s next plans were? Had her fated mate really chosen his pride over his love? All he’d done was nod. A single lift and fall of his chin. A tear had slipped down her cheek and she’d calmly stated, “For my people, I will do what he could not. I will surrender to you and pray the war ends by dawn.

Dawn had come two hours earlier as he carried the Tridean girl back to camp. Now, as he walked into the war tent where his top warriors and advisors waited for him, he only had one question of his own to ask.

“Has Slade fallen?”

He looked to Alexander, the scout who had arrived from Mariseth a few minutes earlier. The man’s smile answered him before his words could. “Yes, Your Majesty, before the sun could breach the horizon this morning, we managed to break through the gates of the keep. His men fell easily without their alpha’s strength behind them. We have apprehended former Alpha Slade and have him chained in his own dungeons, per your request.”

“Any other prisoners?” Cole asked.

“Those high in rankings have been taken to the dungeons. Those who could not fit there have been chained for trial,” Alexander confirmed.

“See that our judges are brought into Mariseth as quickly as possible,” Sylvan ordered. “I don’t want delays like there were in Boregard or heads will roll by the blade of my own sword. Most of these men were merely following command. Ensure aid in the form of food and medical supplies are delivered first to Mariseth and then all surrounding areas affected by our wrath. I want liaisons assigned who can report the progress of delivery directly to me. Before all of that, I want our own soldiers well-fed and their salaries delivered to them immediately. If a single soldier returns home and his pay is not waiting for him, the man responsible will be subject to my scrutiny.”

“What of the prize?” Matthew asked, a cheshire grin spreading his cheeks.

A murmur swept through the crowd. It was an Eredhal custom for the winning leader of a way to collect a “prize” from the enemy state. In Boregard, Sylvan claimed a mountain castle that overlooked the entire nation. In Oselcech, he took the contents of the national library, which contained century-old books and parchment made from gold. In Selolei, he’d acquired a young colt from a long-running bloodline that showed great promise.

Sylvan lifted his head. “A Tridean woman came to my tent last night with the intent to kill me in my sleep. She will be my prize,” he declared.

Those who were relatively new to his ranks chuckled and thumped each other on the back. The men who had been with him for decades exchanged raised eyebrows and murmurs of confusion. Sylvan did not take women. In fact, it was expressly prohibited for his men to sleep with enemy women, forced or otherwise. But Sylvan, especially, was known for never having a mistress, a consort or a woman who warmed his bed in any regard. There were far too many

risks… for her.

“You all may be dismissed. Spend the day organizing your men and packing. We leave for Aerhart Castle at dawn tomorrow.”

The men slowly filed out of the room, each of them giving a bow to their Prince before doing so. Once the tent had mostly emptied, he began gathering the maps, war plans and correspondence littering the table. Cole leaned back against the table beside him, crossed his arms and raised a brow.

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Chapter 8 Chapter Eight

What Sylvan asked, continuing with fils task.

“A woman? As a prize? Cole stated as if he hadn’t believed his ears.

“She tried to kill you?” Nikolai asked, annoyed that Sylvan hadn’t alerted him to that fact earlier.

“I’m allowed to take anything I wish as a prize of war, Sylvan argued.

“Yes… but…” Cole began.

“The safety concerns alone are vast,” Nikolai continued, though Sylvan was certain that’s not where Cole was leading with his statement. “She’s already tried to assassinate a member of the royal family, she’s an enemy of Eredhal, and you wish to bring her back to Aerhart Castle? To live with the rest of the royal family?”

Sylvan stopped his task and faced his beta. “Do you question my ability to handle myself?”

“No,” Nikolai said with a sigh. “It’s just…”

“Why her?” Cole asked. “You could have literally any woman on the planet, Sylvan. Yet you chose a young girl who tried to kill you? Who will undoubtedly fight you every step of the way while you drag her away from her home?”

“You’re right,” Sylvan began. The men’s faces relaxed as if they’d actually talked some sense into him.

“Good, just give her a nice fuck and…”

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“I can have any woman I want,” Sylvan continued. Cole groaned, knowing what was coming next. “I choose her.”

The tent flap opened behind them and they all turned as Delilah strode in, her face pale but a smile tugging at her lips. Having known her as long as he

had, he knew it meant she had both good news and bad.

“Start with the bad,” Sylvan said with a sigh. He joined Cole by leaning back against the table and crossing his arms.

Her green gaze moved between the three men. “Perhaps we should speak in private?”

Sylvan closed his eyes and shook his head. “They’ll know eventually. Go on.”

“She claims to be wolfless…”

“She’s not,” Sylvan said, certain of it.

Delilah pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, I believe her family has been lying to her. She’s not wolfless, she’s bound.”

“Bound?” Nikolai asked.

Delilah nodded. “Her wolf was bound. Most likely when she was a child so that she could never feel it. To her, and everyone else left in the dark, her wolf is buried so deep that she has little to no benefits from her wolf side. Heightened sense of smell, strength, healing, even her own scent are all dormant,

essentially making her human.”

“Unbind her,” Sylvan said with a decisive nod. He turned away to get back to the work he was nearly finished with.

“I can’t.”

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Chapter 8 Chapter Eight

Sylvan turned-slowly. “You can ’12 Again, Delilah shook her head.

“The magic binding her, Sylvan. It’s… archair. Powerful in a way I have never witnessed before.”

“You’re the most powerful witch in modern history, Delilah,” Cole argued.

“The most powerful witch in modern history whose ward was like a slap on the wrist for Isla to get through,” she reminded them. “This binding on het… It’s

not something that can be broken except by the one who cast it.”

“Then track them down,” Sylvan demanded, his anger simmering just below the surface. “Use your magic to follow the source. Find the witch who…”

“I can’t,” she repeated desperately.

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