Page 1 of Hellbound

1

She was asking to be killed.

Ksenia’s clammy hands threw provisions into a burlap sack. The cramped hovel was filled with enticing notes of night jasmine, wafting from the cigarette pinned between her lips. It hovered between a floral musk and a peppery spice, and she let out a long exhale.

It was the only thing steadying her while they got as many families to safety from the king’s wrath. She crossed the creaking floorboards to the window and flicked the frayed curtain edge open. The window pane was filmy with condensation, cutting tracks through the grime. Her golden-yellow eyes ghosted in it, narrowed on what lay beyond.

The streets were empty, save for lurching torchlight throwing long shadows around the corner like reaching fingers.

Ten doors away. Maybe less.

Deliberate, rhythmic pounding of a fist against wood echoed.

Unwelcome thoughts overcame her: people screaming, blood spilling, villages burning. All for the king’s hunt of bondsmiths: family lines capable of forging weapons that could bind to the wielder’s soul, becoming a harmonious extension of their bodies and wills.

And it was not only those who practiced the trade who had the potential to become one, but also their young. Metal ran in their veins before their hands ever learned the craft.

“Senna. Senna—are you all right?” Her elder sister shook Ksenia’s shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie.

Ksenia looked down at the crumpled loaf of bread in her fist, then shoved it in the bag. When you were on the run, you couldn’t refuse the sustenance available. And these kids would be in for a rough few days.

“I’m fine. We have to get moving; the raid will be here any minute.” Ksenia slung the sack over her shoulder and moved to the table.

She fumbled for the blank parchment on the splintered wooden table before her, and from her pocket dug out a rough but precious coin of blue-gray metal.

Wax from a dying candle dripped onto the tabletop, seeping between the cracks. Ksenia held the paper above the flame as she passed the coin over the worn parchment. Slowly, fine metallic shards magnetized and turned on the surface, revealing a missive in shimmering ink:

Wayfinder,

Warehouse district, third from the bridge with a broken carriage wheel at the door. They’re running out of time. Go tonight.

— North

Ksenia memorized the missive’s details before letting the flame lick the top corner until it was ash, leaving a hazy blue smoke. She tasted the acrid mineral from the burning ink and fought the urge to spit. Then, she tucked the coin back into her pocket.

The percussive sound drew closer. Nine doors away.

“Listen to me—we’ve done enough for the Bound Eye.” Danika’s voice was low but rushed as her brown eyes bounced to the sleeping baby on the threadbare mattress. “We’re cutting it too close to save anyone else. Don’t take this assignment.”

Ksenia crushed the cigarette underfoot. “Then we split up. If we go together, we’re more likely to get caught.”

“No. We’ve reunited forty-three families. We’re no use dead.” Danika cut in front of her sister. “Mum and dad always said we’re stronger together.”

“They’re not here,” Ksenia said sharper than she intended to.

Danika flinched, but didn’t back down. “They kept us alive for ten years.”

Ksenia took a deep breath; her sister smelled like leather soap and fire. Like home.

She clenched her eyes tight and broke free of Danika’s hold. “I can make it forty-four. Take the baby, and follow the forest route to the safe house. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous.”

Danika shook her head, wringing her powder-blue tunic between trembling fingers. “No, we’re escaping to Drenvar together. I’ll come back here after the raid passes and wait for you.”

“Since when are you the stubborn one?” Ksenia huffed.

“Since always. You just don’t notice because you’re worse.” Danika retorted.

“Fine, but you have to promise me you’ll clear out if I’m not back in an hour.” Leaving no room for argument, Ksenia handed her sister another sack of necessities and turned away before her resolve shattered.