A shiver of excitement surged through Brandela as she packed up her small camp in the early dawn light. She had made it through the long, lonely week, walking in a sort of daze for the first few days, feeling abandoned and vulnerable, sure that she would never see Donovan alive again. But he had promised to come back, and as the end of the week had drawn closer she had begun to hope again until now, on this morning, she felt sure they would soon be reunited.
She had reached the trade route on her fourth day of solitary travel. Her tracks were now blended with the many other footprints, wagon tracks and hoofprints along the way, but in the three days that she had been following the tracks, she’d seen no sign of other people. She had hidden her Elven ears with a scarf she had made using material ripped from Donovan’s cloak, but so far, there was no one to hide them from. She was desperately lonely, but also relieved to get through each day without having to explain herself to other travelers.
She quelled the gnawing in her stomach with a small strip of deer jerky, but stopped herself from taking more. Hunger had become a focal point each day. She’d organize and reorganize her small stash of food, planning how much she would allow herself and when, and how long she could make it last if…if Donovan didn’t come back. Today, she organized the precious meat so that it would last two people for at least another week.
As she travelled eastward that day, she found herself looking over her shoulder frequently, sure that she would see Donovan in the distance. Her heart sank a little more every time he wasn’t there, and by the day’s end, she was fighting tears of disappointment and worry.
For three more days, Brandela refused to think about what might have happened to Donovan after they had separated. She started out each day hopeful and watchful, believing in his promise to come back. But by the end of the third day, she could no longer fight the heavy doubt that descended on her every night. As she made camp, her mind was full of images of Donovan, captured by the Barbarians, beaten, tortured…killed. He had surely been severely outnumbered. He would have fought hard, she imagined. He would have died slowly, painfully. Did he think of her in those final moments?
Her tears flowed freely as she thought of all he had done for her, all he had sacrificed for her safety. This man—one of the finest she’d ever known of his race—had touched her deeply, made her feel in ways she never had before, and had become very special to her. She would blame herself, always, if something terrible had happened to him.
She opened the packet of jerky, but was too bone-tired and melancholy to eat. She carefully counted the remaining pieces of meat and, with a fresh flow of tears, estimated how long she could make them last her—just her, alone. She tucked the meat away, pulled the blanket around her slender shoulders and curled up against the grassy base of a young tree. How she longed to feel his arms around her again, his warmth enveloping her. She wished she could be stronger, more confident, more believing…but she couldn’t control herself any longer. Giving into her grief, she wept until she was spent and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning, Brandela woke to the sound of a familiar voice. “It’s time to get up, Princess. We’re still three days from the town and we must keep moving.”
Brandela moaned softly, thinking she was still dreaming, but the touch of Donovan’s hand on her arm snapped her from her sleep. She stood, still drowsy, confused and rubbing her eyes, then turned toward the sound of his soft chuckle. There, looking back at her was the most handsome face she had ever seen. She said nothing but held her hand over her mouth as tears of joy began streaming from her eyes. She couldn’t believe he was alive and safe right in front of her.
For a moment, they stood there just staring at each other, relief and joy lighting their faces. Finally, Donovan broke the spell. “Come now, Princess. I’m starting to think you actually missed me,” he teased.
Brandela’s body began to radiate a strange golden light and her face held an expression that both pleased and puzzled Donovan. He wasn’t sure what he was witnessing, but she was remarkably beautiful.
Before he could even consider what he was seeing, she ran forward and threw herself into his arms, sobbing into his chest with joy. For a moment, dazzled by the strange, beautiful light and startled by her emotional response to seeing him, Donovan pulled back from her. But as she clung to him, weeping openly, he relaxed, wrapped his arms around her and comforted her as best he could until her tears subsided.
As she cried herself out, the strange glow began to fade. Donovan felt a pleasant tingling sensation in his heart that spread throughout his entire body. He didn’t understand what he was experiencing, but he was reluctant to let her go, so he held the princess even after she had calmed and relaxed in his arms.
Brandela had also noticed the tingling sensation and now, as her head rested against his chest, she noticed that her heartbeat was matching pace and rhythm with his. It was as though their hearts were beating as one—as though they had bonded!
Brandela’s eyes widened in amazement and she stepped back quickly and lost her footing. Donovan caught her and lowered her to the ground, gently. She stared at him with wide eyes, as though something had shocked her.
“Are you okay, Princess?” he asked.
She did not respond, but continued to stare at him with a look of awe.
“Princess?” he coaxed. He held her shoulders and shook her gently. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”
Finally, Brandela snapped out of her stupor and replied in a shaky voice, “I’m fine. I’m sorry, it’s just that…” She didn’t finish, but gazed up at him again with the same look of amazement as she felt his relief, then confusion and a slight irritation. She could feel his subtle moods as though they ran through her own body. If she hadn’t believed it when she’d felt their hearts become as one, now she had no doubt.
Brandela knew the Elven bonding spell had somehow taken effect. She was beyond shocked to discover that it could be activated or naturally applied to a human. But it definitely had, and Donovan was her bonded mate—her husband—now. She reeled at the thought, not even daring to imagine how her father would react to this news. But she would not worry about that now when they were so far from the Wood Elven kingdom. She had been trained her whole life to understand her duty, and her first loyalty was to her bonded mate. She belonged to him for life, and she could not bond to any other, even if she wanted to. She should be upset, she knew. She should be rejecting this somehow. But she was pleased…more pleased than she ever could have imagined.
“Oh, by the Elven Elders, I am married,” she exclaimed.
“You’re married?” Donovan asked, a feeling of disappointment taking him by surprise. Why had she told him earlier that she was expecting to be married off when she returned to her people? Why would she lie to him about that?
“You told me you were not yet married,” he reminded her. “Why do you say now that you are? Have you been untruthful with me?”
Brandela hesitated, then carefully replied, “I was being truthful. I told you that I did not yet have a bonded mate. But that has changed now.”
Donovan scratched his head, beginning to wonder if the days alone had taken their toll on the princess. She was making no sense at all and was still staring at him as though something amazing had just taken place. “What in Ryyah are you talking about?” he demanded, growing somewhat irritated by her odd behavior.
Brandela felt his frustration as though it were her own, and stifled a giggle at the wonder of this new ability. “It’s very simple to understand,” she replied coyly. “I wasn’t married then, but now I am.”
Donovan rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Fine then, have it your way. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we have to get moving. We’ve wasted enough time here. I lost our pursuers several leagues back but they will guess our general direction and soon follow.”
Brandela’s tone was surprisingly formal when she replied, “Yes, my Lord, as you wish.”
Donovan frowned, thinking that she was mocking him, but said nothing and turned to gather their items for the next leg of their journey.
As they walked that day, Donovan recounted his adventures for her and, except for the unnerving way she kept looking at him, things seemed to be back to normal. Evening was nearly upon them when Donovan spotted a fat brown snake sunbathing on a flat rock beside their path, and killed it for their supper. Brandela beamed when he held it up for her to see. “Fresh meat, tonight!”
Later that night, when they had stopped to make camp, Donovan began to prepare the snake for cooking. As he pulled the skin from the creature, Brandela was suddenly beside him, taking it from his hands.
“It is my duty and responsibility to prepare our meals, my Lord,” she said. “Please, allow me.”
Donovan looked up at her with annoyance. “Why do you keep referring to me as ‘my Lord’? If it’s your idea of a joke, I don’t find it funny.”
Brandela looked deeply concerned. “I can feel your displeasure, my Lord,” Brandela answered. “But I beg you to allow me to attempt my duties.” She then did something that shocked him to his toes. She got down on her knees in front of him, lowered her forehead to the ground and began reciting the Elven Pledge of Loyalty in a calm, clear voice. My heart is yours. My soul is yours. My body is yours. Command me as you will, Lord, for I am your consort in battle and your comfort in times of war and peace. Do with me as you will.
Donovan was familiar with the Pledge of Loyalty, given by Elven supplicants to their Overlords, as he, himself, had pledged loyalty to Lord Aden, but he had never heard this version before. And why was she saying it at all? His irritation was quickly turning to anger.
“Have I done something to offend you, Princess, that you would mock me in this way? Have I not treated you with the respect deserving of a noble woman? The Pledge of Loyalty is not something to be taken lightly. Your behavior is very unsettling and I demand that you stop.”
Brandela remained prone before him and said, without looking up, “Is there a more appropriate name you wish to be called, husband?”
Donovan jumped as if he’d been stung and stumbled two steps away from her. “Get up and look at me,” he ordered, sharply. “What are you talking about?”
Brandela obeyed him and lifted her head from the ground. She looked directly into his eyes, and replied in a clear, sweet voice, “Please clarify what you are asking me, husband, so that I may obey.”
Donovan scowled and shook his head. “You know very well what I mean. You call me ‘my Lord’ and ‘husband’. Why? Why are you acting so strangely toward me all of a sudden?”
Brandela lowered her eyes again. “I am honoring and obeying my Lord—my husband—and treating him with all due courtesy and respect, as I have been taught to do since childhood.”
Donovan, more confused than ever, replied, “Great, but what does that have to do with me?”
Brandela sighed and glanced at him nervously. “It’s because you are my husband now,” she answered slowly. In response to his shocked expression, she stood and added, “Believe me, I was as surprised by this event as you are now, for I didn’t even know that humans could be bonded with..., until it happened this morning, that is.”
Donovan frowned deeply at her words, but his eyes widened as he began to understand. “The golden light!” he whispered. “The tingling! That was…a bonding spell?”
“Yes, the Elven bonding spell engaged when you embraced me,” explained Brandela. “Now our hearts beat as one. You are my bonded mate for life.”
It was Donovan’s turn to stare in stunned silence, but his mind was on Lord Aden and the negative repercussions this was bound to cause. Akenji and the others would be in serious danger once this news was discovered. Lost in serious thoughts, Donovan picked up the snake and went back to his task, saying nothing more to Bran-dela.
Brandela put her hands on her hips. “Well?” she asked.
Donovan stopped what he was doing and looked at her, puzzled. “Well what?”
“What do you want me to call you?”
Donovan sighed impatiently. “Just call me Donovan, as you have been,” he insisted.
“As you wish, my Lord.”
“Don’t call me ‘my Lord,’” he growled through clenched teeth. “It makes me uncomfortable.”
Brandela smiled at him and reached for the snake. “Please, it is my duty as your bonded mate to prepare our meals from now on.”
Donovan looked at the bloody mass in his hands and shook his head. “This is not a task for a noble lady like you.” Brandela’s face fell, reminding him once again of a scolded child. He smiled, despite his mood, and suggested, “Perhaps you can cook it once I’ve prepared it. We can do it together.”
Brandela smiled and nodded, pleased with the arrangement for now.