Bound by Roses (The Bound Series Book 1) (21 page)

“Impressive,” Avarice talked to himself.

In the Mirror, he could see the ball of mist. The Fairies tendrils wafted over the sleeping Witch, while at the same time, reached and ensnared the Huntsman. They wrapped around his waist, muscular arms, and gently caressed his face before wrapping loosely around his thick neck.

“
Approach her,
” the same voice called into Avarice’s mind.

Theodora Talisa, sound asleep within her four post bed. Almost silver hair sprawled out in all directions. The Fairies tendrils slowly brought him closer to the bed.

Stepping forward to see the sleeping woman, the Huntsman smelled the air. A familiar odor hung upon it. An odor he had smelled many times in his past. Avarice inhaled again. His lungs filled deeply thrice the scent that hung over the room. He did not notice it before. His eyes grew hungry. His cock once more stirred in his pants. A crooked and wicked smirk as he remembered Lady Astra. It was her scent the aroused him.

Faint creaking and slithering pierced Avarice’s ears. Ophiuchi disappeared in a flash, and
pop
.

Fool!

Ophiuchi’s feminine voice reflected a deep undertone and echo.

The Huntsman was in the air. Head grazed the wooden beams. Bound by ankles and wrists. Around his neck wrapped thick strands of grey hair. Limbs held out. He looked as a rag doll. Being pulled apart by children.

“How dare you intrude unannounced, upon
my
sanctuary!” Theodora Talisa slid off and stood next to her bed, barefoot. Delicate pink slip shone like the moon. Her eyes stared at the Huntsman. They pierced him. Hair squeezed, “who are you?”

“I am merely a traveler. Lost in the desert,” Avarice responded.

A few strands made their way around his aged leather belt, and with ease snapped it in half. The hair curled around the broken leather and brought it to the Witches extended palm. The hair unfurled as she grasped it.

“You seem well equipped, for a mere traveler. Lost in the desert.” Theodora Talisa unsheathed the ornate silver dagger. It was etched with carvings most ancient, with a ruby, in the shape of a heart just below the handle. The blade was not straight, but curved ever so slightly to the West. It shimmered in her hand. Theodora Talisa ran her fingers lightly over the carvings. They gave a tingle to her skin. A chorus of whispers overtook the air. Even Avarice could hear the voices. They were loud in the silent tower. The voices stopped when the Witch moved her hand away, “there is ancient magic cast into the blade of a simple traveler.”

Theodora Talisa’s eyes gazed upwards at the bound man.

“Wolves roam and gather power once more,” Avarice grunted.

“They have been reckless,” Theodora Talisa tightened her grip around the Huntsman’s strong thick neck.

“Then one cannot be too cautious,” Avarice adjusted his neck. The hair continued to slither around tightly.

Theodora Talisa brought him closer, until their noses practically touched. All the hair that bound Avarice continued to dig into his skin, “This is terribly uncomfortable.”

He tried to chuckle, but inhaled sharply as Theodora Talisa squeezed, “I do enjoy when my prey struggle. Makes it more enjoyable for me. Let’s them know who is in control.”

The Witch commented with a kiss to Avarice’s cheek.

“Then I shall sadly disappoint you,” Avarice struggled, “I am not the submissive type.”

“The day is still young,” Theodora Talisa squeezed tighter again. Avarice let out a great groan. She enjoyed the sound he made. It made her weak, but she wanted answers, “I know of only a single silver blade cast with this magic. How did you come across it, stranger?”

“Luck and chance,” the Huntsman inhaled, “or a gambling match, I was never one to remember such trivial details?”

Theodora Talisa squeezed tighter, Avarice gasped for air. He clawed at the cord of hair around his neck, “There is not such thing as luck and chance. Only destiny and fate.”

“Then—then perhaps,” Avarice spoke through gasps of air, stubble face turning blue, “I was to acquire it—through—through destiny—fate.”

Theodora Talisa’s hair grew tighter. Her mouth did not move, but Avarice could hear her voice in his head, “
Tell me.
”

The terribly gentle, and powerful voice rang as loudly as the great bell of Ashok Orai in his ears.

Tell me

Over and over the monstrous voice sounded.

Tell me

Over and over the words repeated.

Tell me!

Growing louder each time, “
TELL ME!
”

The Witches’ hair grew less grey. It shimmered golden blonde. Eyes grew wide. She inhaled the strong aroma and natural musk that he cast off. She licked her lips. Avarice let out a gasp.

“Yes—now it is all clear.”

Avarice winced and strained. He felt his energy leave. How, he knew not. His eyes grew heavy, limbs equally so. The Witch spoke,

“In that ounce of life I have stolen. I have seen it. You, you, are the famed Huntsman of the greatest Witch that ever lived, the Queen!” Theodora Talisa cackled to herself softly. Hands clapped together in giddy excitement.

“H-how?” The Huntsman gasped. He struggled to break free. Face turned purple. Strong hands clawed at her hair. It made no effect.

Theodora Talisa ignored him and squeezed even tighter. The Huntsman bellowed and roared, his eyes glazed over, “We shall discover the great mystery that is you, for your past is deep, and hidden away.”

“Release. Me.” Avarice pleaded. His eyes and body tired.

“In time. But right now, you are mine,” Theodora Talisa squeezed again as she cackled. Avarice groaned into the air. His eyes grew heavy. They closed, as is head and body fell limp. He dangled in the air. Theodora Talisa closed her own eyes, and enjoyed her prey.

Fourteen.

Marguerite returned to Ashok Orai with nothing but sadness upon her brow. She on her majestic horse took her time. They wandered the long stretches of streets to the palace alone. It had been far too long since she strolled around the Market District, or even the Fountain District.

How she loved the smell of the water as the fountains splashed. It calmed her breaking heart. It was in the mix of fresh water fountains, and salt-water fountains with its coast like misting that Marguerite wished for a fresh pastry to eat upon the center fountain as she dismounted her horse near it.

The fountain’s white marble was aged, but not dirty and consisted of twelve horses, whose hind legs were great spiraling fish tails. The mighty beasts rode upon perfectly carved and formed waves. They formed a circle in the center of the fountain. A powerful spout of water shot upwards, while twelve smaller streams spat from the horse’s mouths. The riders, twelve High Lords of Ashok Orai, each was armor clad.

Children played in the mist it created as the Winds blew. Silver and bronze coins, each with the generic rose, littered the fountain’s bed. How she loved those coins.

She herself took a coin out of her satchel. Marguerite stared at it, as she held to it tight between two fingers. She never grew tired of looking upon them. She loved what they stood for, the unity of the two great cities.

Or at least she did. Events of the present made her question all that she stood for. Question all that the two cities stood for.

Marguerite threw it into the crystal clear water. She made no wish. It was merely habit. She then threw a second copper piece into the fountain for Rose Red. She stared at the two coins that landed far from one another. With a heavy sigh, she knew her time was up. She continued onto the palace. Things needed to be discussed and finalized.

Marguerite was barely past the palace gate when Kaniz met her in her delicate white gown that barely touched her ankles. A gold anklet wrapped three times before her bare foot. Ebony hair braided around and tucked up out of the way.

“Where have you been, Lady White?” Kaniz instinctively bowed before helping Marguerite off her horse.

Marguerite landed with grace. Her boots made barely a sound upon the stone courtyard, “What do you mean?”

“Iritis returned over an hour ago,” Kaniz took the reigns rather forcefully from Marguerite. She held tight to them, ringing them within her hands, knuckles began to turn pale.

“Apologies. I detoured through the Market and Fountain Districts.”

“Some warning would be appreciated,” Kaniz, snapped, before bowing low, face flushed, “I was worried.”

“You can worry later, Kaniz. I need all the Ministers assembled,” Marguerite looked at the afternoon sun as it began its descent.

Kaniz clasped the reigns tightly to her chest. Free hand petted the horse’s elegant mane, “How soon?”

“As soon as you possibly can,” Marguerite walked away as did Kaniz without another word. Kaniz handed off Marguerite’s horse to the stable boy, before she herself scuttled off.

The Ministers were gathered in less than an hour. Each was present when Marguerite arrived within the round meeting room. She eyed each of them as she descended the stairs. They all fell silent, for the first time, as she reached the final step.

“How went your travels to Zhan’ding, Lady White?” One of the fatter Ministers asked. His regal auburn robes rustled as he approached. The corner of his wide mouth still had drippings of the dinner she interrupted.

“I am in no mood for pleasantries,” she held her hand in the air and walked past him.

“My lady?” He asked again attempting to follow close behind. “What happened?”

Marguerite took her place at the head of the round table. It’s silvery water surface ripple as she slammed her fists upon it. She paused before speaking. A deep breath was needed to calm her racing mind, “It seems you spoiled Ministers, will not have to worry about
any
refugees arriving.”

“What ever do you mean?” Another of the more robust Minister’s inquired with almost a chuckle to his voice.

“With Rose Red dead, and the true House of Red fallen, a de facto governmental body has risen. Their Minister Toran is demanding all refugees returned, or they will declare war,” Marguerite looked upon the Ministers present. All buzzed in joyful conversation.

“Honestly?” A third Minister broke away from the conversation to ask.

“Not in so many words, but it was heavily implied,” Marguerite said.

“I agree,” A fourth stated, “what army could compare should the full force of Ashok Orai came down upon them?”

“If war is what they want,” another Minister now cried out, “Then war they shall receive.” Nearly all the Ministers roared in agreement.

“Someone round up that
boy
, oh by the Gods, the Captain,” a Minister snapped his fingers in the air, trying to remember his name, “Iritis!”

“I will allocate the necessary resources,” Minister Vana began.

“Enough!” Marguerite rose violently, voice cut off the Ministers, “There will be no talk of war with Zhan’ding!”

“But Lady White—”

“Any that have made the trek must return. War is
not
an option.”

“And if the refugees refuse to relocate back to Zhan’ding?” Minister Thani asked.

“You should be jumping for joy knowing none can stay and be, and I quote, a drain upon our resources,” Marguerite declared.

The Ministers grew silent.

“I will leave these matters, in what I am sure, are your most capable hands.” Marguerite bowed her head towards those present.

“Gather the troops and—”

“Ministers, I will make one thing absolutely clear. You will use minimal force to achieve this,” Marguerite rose.

“But Lady White?” Minster Emon began.

“Minimal force. Captain Iritis will be made aware of this decree,” Marguerite adjusted herself and began to walk to the stairs. The Minister’s grumbled at her words.

Minister Emon, who stood closest to Marguerite, grabbed her by the arm, “and where are you running off to
this
time, Lady White?”

“There are matters that require my attention, and mine alone,” Marguerite roughly shook her arm out of the Minister’s grip.

“See to your duties, Ministers,” she walked away from them. Up the steps, she listened to them joyfully plan the removal of all current refugees, and the prevention of any future arrivals. She heard them discuss checking those coming to market, and the creation of travel papers. Her heart was heavy once again as she tried to imagine the state that Ashok Orai was going to become. She wanted to help all those from Zhan’ding, but did not, could not, risk war. For she knew they would lose all that the two Great Houses stood for.