The BloodBound Heir

Tristan looked sick, as if I’d just struck him before he bolted from the ballroom. No one else moved. They all seemed to hold a collective breath as they waited to see what would happen next, what I would do next. I could feel the heat of my cheeks as I fought to keep frustrated tears from spilling out of my eyes, pressing my mouth into a thin, bloodless line.

“I see no reason to inform his grace of tonight’s events.” My voice strained against the emotion in my throat, the emotion that wanted nothing more than to escape in sobs of rage. I wanted to say more, but what else could I say? That I was sorry? I wasn’t sorry. I’d been humilitated, and I feared that if I did continue to speak, that my broken voice would be due to sadness instead of the disgust that choked me. I turned on a heel and left.

Whispers followed me out. “Heiress of Blood.”

“Wicked mage.”

I didn’t know why Alexia thought tonight would be any different, if anything it was infintely worse. Normally I was left alone to suffer in silent humiliation, never had I been openly accused in front of the entire Astalian court. It didn’t matter that Alexia had spent hours on my hair, or that the rouge of my cheeks had been painstakingly made by mixing her own pigments, everything was ruined.

“The LeMont’s have no place in Astalia.” A surprisingly vehement voice said and I searched for the speaker among the crowd. I didn’t find them. For all their opinions, they weren’t brave enough to meet my eye. Funny, I could say the same thing about almost every courtier in attendance. None of us, save the Rensfields belonged in Astalia.

Of course my threat didn’t help the situation, but it’d been an empty promise. Did they not think that if I had been blessed with a bloodbinding that my father would keep it a secret? He’d been painfully vocal in his disappointment. The Astalian Court should have accepted me, I was just like them, bindless families of the empire sent to live across the sea.

I left without another word as the clock struck eleven, climbing into my family’s coach. The LeMont crest on the door mocked my retreat, LeMont’s don’t retreat. This one did. The angry tears I’d held in finally overflowed in the darkness of the cabin, itchy and wet as they dripped down my chin. What a fool I’d been to dance again.

The carriage finally turned off the main road and onto the drive of the manor, and I wiped the remnants of moisture off my face before the doorman helped me inside. It was late, and most of the staff had either left for the night or had gone to bed, and without my father’s presence the atmosphere was almost warm and inviting. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, safe in the privacy the manor.

Grabbing an oil lamp, I climbed up the stairs and moved down the dark hall until I found my door. The knob turned with a click, and I nearly dropped the lamp in surprise as Alexia shot up off the bed. Her eyes glistening in the lamplight.

“You’re back.”

“Why aren't you with your mother?” I blinked in confusion, shutting the door behind me and carefully setting the lamp onto the vanity. “You went home.”

“Mum is fine, Thomas is with her tonight.” Alexia rubbed at her eyes. “I thought you’d want someone with whom to share all the details of the night.” The freckles of her nose scrunched. “You rarely stay so late, could it be that tonight is the night that a young man stole your attention?”

Tristan. My teeth ground together at the thought. “You don’t trust me to undo my own lacings.” All I wanted was to change the subject, to sound playful, but it came out like an accusation.

I could feel, more than see Alexia come over to pull at the ends of the lacings, hesitantly loosening them. “I do trust you to undo the lacings,” Her fingers stilled a moment. “If anything, I don’t trust you to put the dress away.” A small and shallow laugh. “You’d leave it in a pile on the floor to wrinkle.“

“Let it wrinkle, or better yet, let it burn. I'd rather not see it again.”

Alexia pursed her lips, we both knew the dress couldn’t burn, but she made no other comment as she pulled the last of the cord out of the bodice. Undone, I escaped the dress and Alexia quickly spirited it out of site.

Frustration was exhausting, and without the dress to fuel it I finally felt the effects of the night disappate. I grabbed my nightdress, barely managing to pull it down to my ankles before collapsing onto the edge of the mattress. I ripped out the decorative hair pins, tossing them blindly across the room. A tiny ting everytime one struck the bare floor.

“Was it that bad?” Alexia’s voice was quiet, unsure if she should even be asking. She sounded small and young again. I hated that I was the cause of her quiet.

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s not your fault.”

Her expression was grim as Alexia reached for the hairbrush on the vanity. I sat up and we fell back into routine as Alexia tackled the thick locks of my hair. Minutes passed as she worked from my waist to my scalp in silence. “I had hoped you would’ve had a better start this season...” She trailed off, softly. “I’m sorry.”

“The Rensfields were obligated to invite House LeMont. In my father’s absence it fell to me to attend. I’ve known for weeks.” I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin. “It was the worst humiliation I think I’ve ever suffered.” It came out quiet. I hated how vulnerable I felt. “I wasn’t careful and I got my hopes for something that wasn’t real. At least I’ll always have you.”

Alexia’s finger’s fluttered to a stop, and I heard a quiet sniffle.

“Alexia?” I twisted around just in time to watch her face crumble. All control she’d been holding onto was swept away as tears poured down her cheeks. She wiped at them violently. “What is it? Is it your mother? Has the illness progressed?!”

“I—I thought that if—” Alexia choked between ragged sobs. “If you just found someone tonight, it—it would be easier.”

“What would be easier?!”

Her cries only grew in volume as she wailed. I’d never seen Alexia like this. Even when her mother first fell ill months ago she was only ever somber, I’d never seen her inconsolable. I gripped her hand, not knowing what else I could do but thank the old gods that my father had yet to return to the country.

“What can I do to help?” I pleaded above her wails, “I can't understand what's happened if you don't tell me!”

She hiccupped, fighting to gain enough control to speak. “It was my brother. He's been avoiding me, and this morning Thomas went to the magistrate's office. I thought that maybe I was being paranoid, that there are so many other things he could've gone to the magistrate for, but tonight when I went home—” she hiccupped again. “—He handed me the marriage contract. I'm going to walk the Path.”

The Bridal Path.

My body froze. “What?”

“I couldn't even look at him.” Her fingers twisted in the folds of the blanket. “I didn’t even check on mum. He was waiting for me with the contract open on the table when I walked in.”

“But how? Your mother would never have allowed him to—”

“—It’s not her choice, I’m sure of it.” A fresh wave of tears poured down her face. “But legally, he’s the head of the house,” she shook her head in disbelief. “If papa were here... he never would have considered it.”

“What about Nora? Tell me Thomas didn’t stoop so low as to sell you both!”

Alexia laughed bitterly. “No, Nora will be fine. Even he sees that she’s too young, barely sixteen last month. No.” She clenched at the bedding until her knuckles went white. “The bride price he got for me is enough that Nora will never have to make the walk herself.”

“How dare he treat you like another asset to be sold.” My anger burned hot in my veins. “And for what? Money?”

“Mum’s not getting better.” Her voice was quiet, the fight had gone out of it. “The bride price will pay for her treatment and then some. More than enough to take care of the three of them for years.”

“I would have been happy to pay for her treatment.” I said bitterly. “It’s not too late to void the contract. I can go to the magistrate in the morning,” It wasn’t too late. “I can fix this.”

She shook her head. “The funds have already been exchanged. He’s already paid for the healer to come.” She wiped away another tear. “Thomas would never allow anyone else to pay for her treatment. She’s our mother, she’s our problem.”

I threw up my hands in frustration. “Curse your brother’s stupid pride! Alexia, you’ll never even know if the treatment worked.” None of the brides ever came back. None of the brides were ever heard from again. “How long until Trasenmar?”

Alexia covered her face with her hands as a new wave of anguish ripped through her. “Two weeks.” Two weeks until my world would be ripped apart.

Alexia cried until there were no more tears left to shed. Cried until her body could no longer hold itself upright and collapsed onto the bed. It was too late into the night to leave, and while I told myself that the reason I let her sleep was because it would be rude to wake the coach driver to take her home, it was because I was being selfish. Alexia had two weeks left in Covosna, the only place she’d ever known. In the morning she would leave to spend her remaining time with her mother, as she should, and I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye.

It was laughable that only hours ago I’d cared so much about what had happened at the ball. It was an insignificant event compared to this. What had I truly suffered? Embarassement? Alexia was losing everything. Her family, her friends, her ability to choose who she would spend her life, and for what? For a fraction of the wealth sewn onto the bodice of my ballgown, and I’d carelessly spoke of burning it.

I had to find a way to save her.