The Blood That Binds US by Erin Mainord

Author:Erin Mainord [Mainord, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Country Press & Review

Scarwood’s southern courtyard is a tempest of armor and steel. Rows of soldiers speckle the open training grounds, sparring and running drills under the watchful eye of the moon. While I may have sneered at it before, tonight, satisfaction blooms in my gut as I watch them quickstep to their metallic songs. The better prepared Sin’s armies, the higher my chances of rescuing Cosmina.

Ships of towering heights rear up from the castle’s moat, the armored soldiers training in the shadow of their black and gray sails. Beyond the water barrier, my eyes barely make out the edge of Spiritwood, the woods that enclose the castle’s east and connect to Autumnhelm at the bridge.

As promised, Sin escorted me to Anika as soon as we returned, and she quickly repaired the break. After a much-needed wash in the bathhouse and a hearty meal from the kitchen, I decided I could no longer delay the inevitable.

I scan for Sin across the training grounds and find him almost immediately. It isn’t the long black hair or burnt umber skin that catches my eye. It’s the darkness that hovers around him, moving as he does and making way as his sword slices through the night.

Even the shadows cower in his wake.

Aldred prowls between the rows, surveying the armies he commands and stopping to correct mistakes. Mistakes that could be the difference between killing and being killed on an unforgiving battlefield. He pauses next to Ileana where the Black Hand duels with a male partner much larger than herself, and they both lower their weapons at once. Aldred adjusts her stance, shifting the position of her hips and shoulders, then has her raise the sword in her slender hand once more.

My stare darts back to Sin as he extends a hand to his partner, heaving him off the ground and back to his feet. He wears the same steel plate over his bare chest and back, his long, sculpted arms exposed on either side. Molded to his thick thighs are black leather fighting pants—pants that leave little to the imagination of the powerful, muscled legs beneath them.

I call out his title, my voice falling from my lips softer than I meant and out of place amidst the tense surroundings. Even the air out here is a honed knife, sharp enough to cut through flesh should one take a careless step.

Even under the armored plate, I see the tensing of his shoulders when he hears my voice, and he rolls his neck once before turning to face me.

I swallow my gasp.

It has only been a few hours since we parted ways, but the chilling intensity of him clad in his silver armor nearly knocks me back a step. His eyes, bright as stars in the midnight sky, widen for a mere second before his usual hard stare slams down. He assesses me from head to toe, either checking me for lingering damage or scanning for new hidden weapons on my body.

“We need to speak. Privately,” I add.

He shoots a quick glance around us.

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