The Bound (Ascension #2)(17)

The Queen began to read directly from the book. “The Bound ceremony is a sacred act, set up to strengthen and combine the magical properties from the originators. Three qualities above all link you together—loyalty, trust, and acceptance.”

Cyrene gasped and felt a tingle shoot up her arm. Avoca seemed to have felt the same thing.

As disconcerting as the strange feeling in her arm was, it was stranger still to realize that she had heard these words before at her Ring of Gardens ceremony back in Byern. The Byern royalty had stood before her and made her drink a vial. Then, she had seen a series of possibilities for her life—Third Class, leaving the man she loved, giving up her baby, and bowing to Kael Dremylon as king. She had chosen to put her country above all else in every instance, and thus passed the test. But how could that be similar to this if magic did not exist there?

“The circumstances of your binding will test for loyalty, trust, and acceptance between the hosts. Avoca and Cyrene, do you wish to be tested for the Bound ceremony?”

Both girls nodded and squeaked out, “Yes.”

The tingle in her arm had broken out into a dull throb.

“Know that the trials might be difficult, and once you start, there is no going back,” Queen Shira said gravely.

Cyrene’s powers seemed to have awakened for the first time when she wasn’t in mortal danger…or perhaps she was.

“Do you accept the circumstances?”

“Yes,” they whispered.

“Then, you may begin.”

Cyrene stared down at her glass and then up at Avoca. Finally, an ounce of fear crept up into Avoca’s features that mirrored Cyrene’s trepidation.

As they lifted the glasses to their lips, a tremor shot up to their shoulders, threatening to pull them apart. Cyrene didn’t know if it was a sign that they should stop. Their blue eyes met across the distance. For a second, it felt like she had known Avoca all her life. Mutual understanding crashed between them, and then they tilted the glasses all the way back and downed the drink.

As soon as the potion settled in Cyrene’s stomach, fire lashed out at her from the inside out. She thought she might vomit up the contents just to rid herself of the terrible pain wrenching through her.

The girls collapsed to the ground at the same time.

Queen Shira reached out for them, but she could do nothing at this point. They were in it, no matter what happened.

Tears streamed down Cyrene’s face. It felt like her skin was melting off, her bones were turning to molten lava, and her head was going to explode. Just when she thought she couldn’t hold on any longer, numbness set in, and she blacked out.





Cyrene was jostled hard on her horse. She had been in the saddle for days, riding at breakneck speed, with nothing but stale bread and hard cheese. Her stomach protested even more than her thighs, which were bruised from the saddle, and her back that ached from galloping all day.

She didn’t remember how she had gotten here. Did that potion completely knock out my memory from the last couple of days? She glanced down at her outfit and nearly pulled the beautiful black stallion up short.

She was in…pants.

Men’s pants.

She stared, aghast at the indecency of walking around with the outline of her legs completely visible to anyone she rode past. She didn’t care that they seemed to be a fine black leather that made it much easier to ride in than her dresses and skirts. She just wasn’t someone who wore men’s clothing.

What was almost more surprising was that she had some kind of armor over her chest that sat heavily against her. What could I possibly need armor for?

As soon as that thought flittered into her mind, it disappeared. Of course she needed armor. They were in the middle of a war of the ages. She wasn’t safe to walk around in petticoats and silk gowns when she needed to be on the battlefront, commanding a legion. The final battle was drawing near, and this interruption was unfortunate but necessary for Avoca. Cyrene could never deny her anything…even in the midst of the hardest battle of the last two millennia.

Cyrene felt her skin prickle and recognized it as a directional shift from Avoca. Cyrene veered left and ran into a pack of Indres prowling near the path that led to Eldora. A glance from Avoca told Cyrene all she needed to know.

Avoca and Cyrene broke formation and darted around the pack. As expected, they split, and six rushed toward Avoca while three followed Cyrene. They had identified the Leif as the more viable threat than a traveling human. She preferred having the tactical advantage in times like this.

She and Avoca reached for their powers at the same time. Working as one, they never faltered. Years together had fused their powers, so when their powers were used separately, a supreme lack would race over Cyrene as if part of her was missing.

Avoca raised her hand, and the ground trembled beneath the Indres’s paws. Cyrene grasped her sword and cut through the first Indres as it was incapacitated by Avoca’s distraction. The second leaped at Cyrene’s horse, but she caught it in the face with her sword. It backed up and growled a command to the Indres facing Avoca. They reassessed their situation and were drawing more toward Cyrene.

Time to end this.

Cyrene pulled in sharply on the well of energy that always bubbled under the surface. It swirled around her core, like a living, breathing life force. She reveled in the ecstasy of it all. Touching her magic was addictive and intoxicating.