Blood Oath (The Darkest Drae Book 1)(34)

“Now that I know you, I’m not sure.”

My chest constricted with loss. I wanted my mother. I wanted Dyter. I missed Arnik. I wanted someone to hold me, to hug me, to tell me things were going to be all right and mean it.

“I miss my mother,” I said, and a fat tear slipped down my cheek and landed on the sharp stone I sat upon.

“I know, beautiful. I know.”

I choked on a cry, forcing it back, not wanting to place more burden on this man.

“Tell me about her,” he said, surprising me.

I closed my eyes and thought of her soft, familiar face. “She took us away from my cruel father and started a new life in Verald,” I said. “Back when I was a baby. Then we settled here, and she discovered she had a knack for gardening.”

My memories of her loosened, and I told him of her kindness, her humor, her strength, pausing short of recounting the night she’d died.

“She sounds incredible,” Ty said.

I let more tears flow, whispering, “She was.”



The lock to my cell clicked, and I lay in my blood on the sharp ground, too weak to move after another torture session—this time with a leather belt, right here in my prison cell. The king had briefly joined Jotun and me and had been displeased to find me so functional—and so clean. Bile rose in my throat as I noted my earlier prediction was correct—Lord Irrik did bring me more pain, and I, like a fool, accepted his dangling carrot, the nice warm bath, knowing the game he played and knowing the king would be watching I’m a fool.

The cell door was pulled open and a person strode towards me in confident steps despite the dark.

Tyr dropped to his knees beside me, and I couldn’t help sobbing like a baby as soon as he reached a hand to my hair. Dried blood caked a chunk of it to my cheek, and my body was covered in welts from Jotun’s treatment.

I choked back tears as he stroked my hair. “How long was I out?’

He held up three fingers.

“Hours?” I asked.

A nod was my answer.

There were a few scuffles as he arranged the objects he’d brought with him in a row. Without moving me to the bed, he made quick work of washing me. It showed how far gone I was emotionally that I didn’t feel one iota of embarrassment. His movements were quick and clinical, which helped. After that, he helped me change into a fresh tunic and threw the other in a bucket before carrying me to my bed. He lifted my arms and began rubbing the same ointment onto my skin in careful strokes. The ointment soothed me instantly, and I sighed, earning a smile from him.

“Is it daytime, Tyr?” I asked.

He paused and took a deep breath before pressing my hand to his jaw. The color of the sun was reflecting off the freshly plowed fields this morning. It reminded me of your hair.

I closed my eyes, pressing my trembling lips together, and tried to draw up the image he’d created. “Thank you.” My voice broke.

I couldn’t help the welling emotion in my chest. In this dungeon-hole, Ty was like my sun, and Tyr was my moon. The circumstances accelerated the bonds between us, and my feelings couldn’t be rationalized away.

Next, Tyr massaged the ointment on my face then the bruises around my neck. He shoved off the blanket and worked on my legs for a while. I tried to stay still as he lathered my skin in the stuff.

After the ointment, he wound bandages around the worst of my injuries and pulled the blanket back over me.

There was a scrape of pottery and plate on stone next to my head, and then he turned toward a bucket of water he’d carried in. He reached into it and drew out a scrubbing brush, but he stopped shy of bringing it to the bloodied ground, lifting his head as something caught his eye by the bars.

Striding over, he crouched in the corner where I sat to talk to Ty.

“What is it?” I whispered.

Tyr returned and knelt next to me, holding out his fist. He held a handful of moss. It looked spongy and—well—green. The only splash of color in this gruesome place.

“That wasn’t there yesterday,” I said in confusion. “I sit there all the time. My butt would know the difference.”

He held the moss closer to my face and shook his head.

“I don’t understand,” I said helplessly.

Voices echoed down the corridor toward us. In a blur of movement, without saying goodbye, he collected his two buckets and clicked the lock after himself. I held my breath for the sounds of discovery, but they didn’t come.

And after that, neither did Tyr.



“Ty,” I whispered after clawing from sleep. It’s all I seemed to do in here. The dark messed with my clock mojo, although thanks to Lord Irrik I knew three weeks had passed. “You awake?”

No one answered. He hadn’t answered my calls after Tyr left either.

“Ty?” I held my breath for his husky reply. Nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut, working through the fear that he might be gone for good. I wasn’t sure I could take being alone down here. I’d known the alternative now, and a large part of me doubted I’d be able to do without Ty, or some human company.

With the pain gone, the need to eat before I lapsed into exhaustion swelled.

I worked on my body, wiggling my toes, fingers, bending my knees, and drawing my hips up before rocking side to side. After an age, I made it to sitting and stared at the food and drink Tyr had left.