Bound to the Throne Ch. 02

Sydra came to with a sharp inhale, her body ensnared by coarse ropes. Her head lay unwillingly against the damp, cold earth, the chill of it seeping through her clothes and into her bones. A dull ache pulsed at the base of her skull--the kind of throbbing pain that comes from being thrown or struck or, in her case, falling off a horse unconscious.

Blinking hard, she forced her eyes open. Canvas walls loomed around her, reinforced against the elements. Heavy wooden poles stretched upward, supporting the sagging weight of the structure. Thick ropes anchored the tent to the ground, knotted and precise, as if no one wanted the walls to shift--even in a storm.

They must have made it to base.

The scent of toasted meat curled through the air, rich and smoky, making her mouth water despite the tight coil of dread in her stomach. The soft pop and crackle of a fire drifted through the canvas, steady and almost too calm. A single lantern hung from a pole above her, its pale glow flickering against the weathered canvas, casting restless shadows that shifted like ghosts.

And the ropes--

They weren't just tight. They were alive.

Invisible threads of magic slithered beneath the coarse fibers, flexing against her skin like breathing things. The bindings pulsed faintly with a cold energy, unyielding as they pressed into her wrists and ankles. She flexed her fingers, slow and deliberate, feeling the rough fibers bite into her skin. If she could just loosen them--undo the knots--

The ropes tightened.

Her breath hitched as they cinched hard enough to bruise. Her pulse spiked, panic curling in her chest. No ordinary binding, then. This was magic--Ny'Ebonan magic. Old and dangerous.

A slow, amused voice cut through the haze of her panic.

"The rope is cursed," Zane said smoothly, as if this wasn't a matter of life and death.

"The more you resist, the tighter they get." Sydra's blood burned. That patronizing, dismissive tone--she wanted to carve it from his throat.

"Magic ropes. How original," she spat, jerking at the bindings. "What else do you have in your bag of traps?"

The moment she struggled, the ropes responded, slithering over her brown skin like a cruel embrace. They tightened deliberately, forcing her chest forward, pressing the soft, heavy swell of her breasts against the sheer fabric of her gown. Heat crawled up her throat--humiliation like a blade--as she realized how exposed she was. Her nipples, stiff and traitorous, strained against the gauzy material, dark areolas visible through the flimsy veil of modesty.

Zane's gaze flicked downward, slow. Deliberate. Hungry. A smirk curled his lips.

"Oh, Princess," he drawled, golden-brown eyes drinking her in, "you have no idea."

He stepped toward her, each movement unhurried, calculated. The shadows stretched behind him, pooling at his feet like black smoke. His gaze never left her face as he crouched down. Close enough for his breath to ghost against her cheek.

"We don't need another escape attempt on our hands. You nearly knocked Brion out."

The amusement in his voice was laced with something darker--something lethal.

Something that sent a shudder through her spine. The deep onyx black of his suit was rich and heavy and had an imperceptible sheen that caught the dim light and made him appear all the more intimidating.

"I can make this worse for you..." Zanes' eyes held a dangerous glint, as if they were made to see right through her. He reached out, a single finger tracing the delicate column of her throat, down the line of her pulse. His touch was light, barely there, but it sent heat licking down her spine.

"... Or, if you're willing..." His voice dipped, thick with promise. "... I can make it much, much better."

Sydra swallowed hard, pulse hammering beneath his fingertip.

"If you cooperate as Queen," he mused, almost lazily, "I'll be your number one. Your King Consort. The first among your husbands...." His smile darkened. "The only one who truly matters."

He let the words settle for a moment before speaking again.

"And if you fight me?" His hand slid to her jaw, thumb pressing lightly against her chin, tilting her head up until her gaze locked with his.

"If you try to deny me what's already mine?"

Sydra's laugh was sharp, a blade against the tension. "Over my dead body."

She meant it.

Zane's grip tightened, angling her head back, locking her in place as his gaze burned through her. His pupils had swallowed the gold of his irises, something wicked and starving simmering just beneath the surface.

"Precisely." His voice was a whisper, dark and intimate. "It will be over your dead body, Princess. You wouldn't be the first queen to be possessed, hollowed out and made into a vessel."

His breath ghosted against her ear, lips grazing the shell--not quite a kiss, not quite a touch--but it sent a cold shiver slicing down her spine.

"I could strip your soul from your own flesh," he murmured, his voice a hypnotic, dark melody, "and replace it with something... pliant. Willing. A soul that doesn't fight me."

He let the words sink in, savoring her stillness.

His thumb dragged over her bottom lip, slow, testing--as if deciding whether to bruise or savor.

"They'd wear you like a second skin." His touch lingered. His eyes dark with an animalistic possessiveness.

"You would smile. You would rule. But it wouldn't be you."

His mouth was so close now. Too close.

His thumb parted her lips. His other hand slid down, fingers curling around her hip through the thin fabric of her gown. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips grazing the corner of her mouth. Sydra's breath stuttered.

"No one would be able to tell the difference."

Her heart hammered. His mouth hovered there, barely touching. His breath mingling with hers.

Sydra turned her head sharply--and he followed.

His lips brushed the corner of her mouth, lingering there--teasing. His hand slid down, knuckles brushing over the soft curve of her breast. His thumb circled her nipple through the thin fabric, drawing a traitorous gasp from her throat.

Sydra's breath hitched. Anger flared, burning beneath her skin.

She bit down on his bottom lip--hard.

Zane's breath hitched, a sharp sound of surprise. He drew back with a curse, his hand going instinctively to his mouth. Blood beaded at the edge of his lip. His gaze sharpened.

Sydra's eyes dropped--and her cheeks burned when she saw the bulge in his pants.

She glanced away, chest rising and falling. She hated the heat curling low in her belly, hated the way her body responded to him despite herself.

Zane swiped his thumb over his lip, a dangerous smirk curling his mouth.

"You'll answer to me."

Sydra's gaze sharpened, venomous. "I answer to no one."

His smile deepened. He stood and loomed over her, gaze dark and consuming.

"We'll see about that."

His eyes gleamed in the flickering lantern light--hungry.

Sydra's wrists ached beneath the ropes, her heart thundering in her chest. And as

Zane's eyes raked over her--assessing, savoring--she realized this wasn't over.

Not even close.

A sharp rustling outside the tent snapped the tension like a blade cutting through silk.

The canvas flap was yanked open, cold night air curling into the space like an unwelcome guest. Brion stalked inside, crimson hair wild from the wind, the faint shimmer of magic clinging to her freckled skin. The tension in the air dissolved into something brittle and sharp.

"Dinner's ready."

Brion's gaze slid to Zane, her expression softening with barely concealed admiration.

He, as usual, looked completely uninterested.

Then her eyes shifted to Sydra.

And her smile sharpened into a predator's grin.

Before Sydra could brace herself, Brion kicked her in the stomach.

The force of it knocked the breath from her lungs. White-hot pain exploded through her abdomen, and Sydra doubled over, gasping. She felt the wet imprint of Brion's boot pressed into the thin fabric of her gown--humid and sticky against her skin.

Her jaw clenched. For heaven's sake, she thought bitterly, can't I at least change into something less humiliating before someone tries to kill me again?

Brion crouched down, close enough that Sydra could feel the heat of her breath.

"That's for throwing me off my horse."

Sydra's lips curled into a bitter smile despite the pain. "You should've held on tighter."

Brion's eyes narrowed, a dangerous gleam cutting through the dim light. Her hand slid into her sleeve, drawing out a slender wand carved from obsidian.

"Let's see how sharp your tongue is after this."

The wand trembled in Brion's grip, the raw threads of her magic pulsing through it like a barely contained storm. Crackling tendrils of dark energy sparked from the tip, erratic and unpredictable.

Brion's magic was strong. But her control? That was another matter entirely.

A jagged spark shot from the wand, ricocheting off the lantern and licking at the edge of the canvas wall. A flicker of orange ignited the fabric--then bloomed into flame.

"Dammit, I almost had it." Brion said.

Zane's face darkened instantly. His mouth thinned into an angry line as the sharp crease of his brow deepened.

Without lifting his hand, Zane waved the fire away with a casual flick of his fingers. The flame evaporated into a thin wisp of smoke.

"Evidently not." His tone was laced with venom. "You don't even know how to use one of those. Just because you have a proclivity for magic doesn't mean you should use it."

Brion's expression twisted with resentment. "Stop your shenanigans. You could have killed the princess."

"I wasn't trying to kill the exile." Brion's gaze sharpened, predatory and cold. "Maybe just scare her a little bit."

She lifted two fingers to her eyes and then pointed them toward Sydra in a mocking gesture.

Zane's gaze sharpened. His jaw flexed. "Enough."

His voice cut through the air like a whip, and Brion visibly flinched.

Sydra's breath steadied. Her pulse slowed, though the sting of Brion's attack lingered in her abdomen.

Zane's gaze slid back to her, golden-brown eyes glittering beneath the lantern light.

Brion, still seething, pivoted toward the exit.

"Dinner's getting cold," she said, her voice laced with dark amusement. "Let's not keep the princess waiting."

She disappeared through the canvas flap, leaving behind the lingering scent of smoke and magic.

Sydra leaned back against the pole, the ropes biting into her wrists. Her breath still trembled from the blow to her stomach.

Zane's eyes swept over her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, his mouth curved into a dangerous smile. "You should thank me."

Sydra's glare could have cut glass. "For what?"

Zane crouched down again, close enough that his breath skimmed the shell of her ear.

His fingers ghosted down her arm, a featherlight touch that sent heat curling beneath her skin despite herself.

"For stopping Brion." His lips brushed against her ear, teasing. "And for not letting her kill you."

Sydra smiled, slow and cutting. "Who said I needed your help?"

Zane's smile sharpened. "Oh, Princess." His hand skimmed her jaw again, thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip. "You need me more than you realize."

And as he stood, his hand sliding away, the dangerous gleam in his eyes promised that this was only the beginning.

The bid for power had already begun.