Jorelle

A Jorelle Original

Shadowbound

J. L. Nightingale

ENEMIES TO LOVERS · FATED · IMMORTAL · TRAGIC LOVE

A Jorelle Original

Shadowbound

J. L. Nightingale

The royal Seer is chained to the immortal monster she once condemned, and sent north with him to the sanctuary meant to cure her. But he knows her better than he should, and the truth waiting at the end of that road is far older than her affliction.

Episode 1 · Shadowbound · 5 min read

Shadowbound: Episode 1

Nine.

Nine heavy, iron locks stand between daylight and the darkest depths of this place. I have visited the dungeons before, always escorted, never allowed to commune with the prisoners chained to the walls. Tonight is different. Worth the defiance. The court ruled that no one was permitted to see you, but I had to. I needed to. So much so that I made a vicious threat of exposure to the Head Guardsman. Every dirty deed and disgusting proposition he throws around in the shadows, dragged out into the light. The truth unleashed upon an innocent and loving wife, a chasm so deep he could never climb out of it. He offered gold, silks, even his blade.

All I wanted was my path clear and those nine locks open.

Now, no guards stand between you and me.

I cannot lie. It frightens me how easy it was.

Still, I have to be careful. My path may be clear, but luck, fate, and chance are playing this twisted game too, and I would be a fool to rule them out.

The first thing I notice is the air changing as I descend, thick and stale, pressing close in my chest. Suffocating. A pressure builds in my ears with each spiralling step. This dungeon, your confinement, was built to drink every ounce of magic. To strip and contain it from one's very core, so that criminals as dangerous as you may never know peace until the court decides otherwise.

I do not fear meeting you. You pose no risk to me. So why do I feel this way?

My curiosity begs to see the face of the man they mean to chain to me. A woman ought to know the beast tasked with protecting her.

Damion Harrowe.

Even your name speaks to the monster you are.

Now I stand at your cell, the dark and twisted mark burning viciously along my wrist as it climbs my arm. A wretched blight no healer, priest, nor physician could name, let alone cure. Peering through the metal bars, I catch a glimpse of you, masked entirely in shadow. I cannot make out your form or your face, but I know you are chained like a tamed animal. Your head does not lift, though I am certain you have heard my footsteps approach.

Damion: It took you long enough.

The voice comes from a corner the torch cannot reach. Low, unhurried, almost bored. My whole body closes around it before my mind can catch up. Every muscle tensing at once. The breath catches high in my throat and stays there.

Vivianne: We have never met. You could not have been expecting me.

Damion: If you say so.

A low sound, almost a laugh, that I feel more than hear.

Vivianne: I am the Crown's Seer–

Damion: –I know what you are. I can feel it from here.

A pause. Silence. Air like concrete, setting quick within my lungs.

Clink.

Your chains shift somewhere in the black.

Damion: Come closer. It's not as if I can escape, even if you open that door.

I pause, my breath hitching. Deep down I want to leave, to abandon my curiosity at once because your voice has already disarmed me, and you have not so much as looked at me. But I have come too far to turn back now. And so I make myself approach.

One pace, then another.

Just into the light's embrace.

And now, I finally see you.

A man, stripped to the waist, both wrists bound, heavy chains pooling on the stone. If I let my eyes linger too long I might mistake what I feel for sympathy, but you are a monster, and every line of you is built to take life, not spare it. Another woman might swoon to find you kneeling. I am not so easily moved. What holds me is what tangles around you. Black lines, fine as ink drawn beneath the skin, climbing your throat, spreading over your chest and shoulder, rooting into you. Drinking you slowly from the inside.

I know those lines.

My own are clawing up the underside of my skin as we speak.

There is a scent in the cold down here, beneath the damp and iron. Something I know yet cannot place. My mind reaches for it and closes on nothing.

It unsettles me as much as you do.

Damion: You are staring.

Vivianne: I'm deciding whether you were worth the walk down.

Damion: Mm. And here I thought you were looking at the marks. Everyone always looks at the chains. But I see where your eyes linger.

Something moves at the corner of your mouth that is not quite a smile.

Damion: Forgive me, Seer. It's hard to make a good first impression on one's knees.

I reach for the voice I use in court, flat and level.

Vivianne: They tell me you are to take me North, to Cairnlight Sanctuary. That if you keep me safe, your reward is your freedom.

Damion: Freedom, as a reward? They say it like I have never worn the word before. It is only ever a longer chain.

You scoff.

Damion: Did you only come here to plan our journey together? Surely that could have waited until morning.

Your head tilts, and I feel your attention move over me the way a delicate hand might. Slow, and sweeping.

Vivianne: I told you. I am here to decide.

Damion: Decide whether the kingdom's monster will turn on you the moment his chains come off? Whether he matches the gossip?

This is half the story.

The rest is waiting, and so is every other story on Jorelle — read them, or hear them performed. Seven days free.

Keep reading

Already a member? Sign in