Bound to the Crown

-Caylix-

Thirteen years ago...

A scream tears through the wagon.

I am awake before I know I was asleep, heart hammering, breath sharp in my chest as I jerk upright in the dark. The wagon is still. Lantern light flickers through the slats. Smoke crawls into my lungs and stings my eyes.

Another scream..

My head throbs, but there is no time to question it. Shouting spills through the night. Steel strikes steel. Something crashes hard enough to rattle the ground, followed by a man’s cry cut brutally short. I am over the side of the wagon and on the ground before the scream sounds again. Firelight washes the village street in red and gold. Raiders tear through doorways, dragging people out, laughing as they go. Someone stumbles past me clutching their arm, blood pouring between their fingers. I turn toward the screaming.

The well sits at the center of the square, stone slick with spilled water and ash. An old man stands on the far side of it in front of a small girl, who is maybe eight years old, with his arms spread wide, body trembling as two raiders stalk toward them with their blades drawn.

I do not think. I run.

There are many raiders between me and them, but thankfully the first raider notices me too late. He swings high. I duck beneath the blade and drive my shoulder into his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Taking advantage of his uneven footing, I twist his wrist and his sword drops free. I take it before it hits the ground, slashing through him, and turning just in time for the next.

The second raider charges fast and sloppy. Steel scrapes steel, sparks flashing close enough to burn. I step inside his reach and drive my elbow into his ribs. They break beneath the blow. I shove him aside and turn.

Too slow. A blade flashes across my arm and pain shoots through me.

I ignore it.

More raiders are upon me. One rushes from the left. I slash without looking. Another lunges from behind. I spin, blade cutting low, then high. Blood sprays warm across my skin, but I do not slow. The sounds blur together, fire, shouting, steel. I do not count the men coming at me. I just keep moving. By the time I reach the far side of the well, the water runs red and the air tastes like iron. A final raider staggers toward the girl.

I do not let him reach her.

He drops. Silence crashes down around us, broken only by the crackle of flames and the ringing in my ears. The girl stares at me. Her face is streaked with soot and her eyes are too large for her small frame. She does not scream, but instead, she runs forward and grabs my sleeve, fingers tight and desperate, as if afraid the world might break again if she lets go.

The moment she touches me, my breath catches. Something tightens in my chest and the air vibrates low and deep.

The old man gasps.

He drops to one knee, staff striking stone as he steadies himself, eyes alight with ancient magic.

His gaze moves over me slowly, searching, as if he’s waiting for me to disappear.

The silence stretches, heavy and uneasy. The girl shifts beside me. Her eyes drop to my arm.

“You’re bleeding,” she says quietly.

Dark red has soaked through my sleeve.

“It’s nothing,” I start to say but I am cut off by boots thundering across the stone.

I lift the blade and move the girl behind me as armored figures pour into the square. Royal guards. Banners flash through the smoke. At their center, a tall man moves with controlled force, cutting down the last of the fleeing raiders.

He stops when he sees the girl.

“Avianna,” he says. “Are you hurt, daughter?”

She shakes her head, her hand still gripping my sleeve.

“No, Father,” she says. “They came close when the last guard fell. But he saved us.”

The king moves to the old man’s side, clasping his forearm in a gesture of long familiarity. “Elder Agameus, are you well?”

“I am well, Alexander. Avianna speaks the truth. Fortune was with us tonight, and it wore the face of this boy.”

The king’s gaze moves to me and then to the royal guards fallen at Avianna’s feet, men trained and sworn to protect her, now silent on the stone; then over the raiders scattered across the square, the blood on my arm, and the way the girl stands untouched behind me.

“Who are you, boy?” he asks.

Before I can answer, Elder Agameus turns sharply toward me.

“Tell us, what is your name?”

I open my mouth but nothing comes. I reach inward for something that should be there. A name...a memory...anything. There is only empty space.

“I…” I swallow. “I don’t know.”

Elder Agameus steps closer. His palm presses to my forehead as he murmurs words that vibrate low in the air. Something presses inward, searching. I hold still. Then he inhales sharply and pulls his hand back, his eyes wide with shock.

“There is magic in you,” he says quietly. “Deep. But I cannot see its source or its full purpose.”

The king steps closer, his gaze steady.

“How did you learn to fight like that? You can't be older than twelve.”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “I woke in the wagon with a headache. That’s all I remember.”

“Do you know who I am?”

I glance at the guards, the banners, the way everyone waits on his word.

“You are the King.”

“And do you know of me?” he asks. “Of my magic?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“I am a truth-seer,” he says evenly. “I can sense deception. Are you hiding anything from me?”

The question settles heavy in my chest.

“No, sir.” I say, standing straighter to look him in the eye.

Something brushes through me. His magic moves through me like a current beneath the skin.

“He speaks the truth,” he says. “I sense no malice in him. No hunger for power. No darkness.”

Relief loosens something tight inside me. The King studies me for another moment.

“Why did you save her?” he asks. “Why my daughter?”

I hesitate, searching for an answer that feels correct.

“I don’t know,” I say at last. “I heard her scream. I…somehow felt her fear. And I moved.”

His gaze remains on me, sharp but not unkind, as if weighing something that cannot be measured. After a moment, he nods.

Elder Agameus exhales slowly. “There is already a connection forming between them.”

The king’s attention stays on me.

“This is the strongest magic I have felt in another since…well, since you, my King,” he says.

Silence stretches.

“Take them,” the King says, decision settling into his voice. “This is not a conversation for the open.”

As we leave the burning square, I feel it again. The pull in my chest drawing me toward the girl at my side.

I know this much with absolute certainty:

Whatever I am…

Whatever sleeps inside me…

It has already chosen her.