Blood Contract

The headquarters of the Guild of Shadow and Steel smelled of old wax, cold metal, and that metallic scent that only blood leaves behind when it is cleaned in a hurry. Mila Belmonte walked through the stone corridors with her chin held high, though her boots felt as heavy as if they were made of lead. Beside her, maintaining a distance that barely concealed his urge to shove him against a gargoyle, strode Bastián de Almagro. He did so with that feline elegance that irritated Mila so much, as if instead of heading toward a possible punishment for insubordination, he were heading to a banquet in his honor.

—You could stop making that little clicking sound with your tongue —Mila muttered without looking at him—. It's maddening.

—It is the sound of anticipation, my dear —Bastián replied, giving her a lopsided smile that did not reach his icy blue eyes—. Valerius has summoned us at the same time. Either he is going to give us a medal for our "creativity" on the last mission, or he is going to find a new and painful method to get us to stop sabotaging each other.

—I didn't sabotage you. I simply reached the target three minutes before you and decided you didn't need the credit for the kill. Consider it a lesson in humility.

—Consider it a lack of professionalism that almost cost us our heads —he retorted, adjusting his low ponytail with a nonchalant gesture—. But don't worry, Mila. I'm sure the Leader will appreciate your... enthusiasm.

They stopped before the heavy black oak doors of Valerius's chambers. The guards, two silent shadows with iron masks, did not move, but the pressure in the air shifted. Mila felt a shiver. Valerius the Silent was not a man given to verbal reprimands; he preferred those that left scars on the soul. Upon entering, the room was submerged in a calculated gloom. Valerius stood behind his obsidian desk, observing a map of the continent with the intensity of a predator counting its prey.

—You have failed —Valerius said. His voice was a whisper that cut like a razor blade—. Again.

—Sir, if I may explain... —Mila began, taking a step forward.

—I permit you nothing —the Leader interrupted her, looking up. His black eyes, devoid of any trace of humanity, pinned them to the spot—. Your rivalry is a stain on the guild's code. You have wasted resources, time, and prestige. In any other circumstance, your bodies would be decorating the courtyard battlements.

Bastián lost some of his bravado and went rigid. Mila clenched her fists, feeling cold sweat on her palms. She knew Valerius wasn't joking. Death was the usual currency in the guild for those who lost their utility.

—However —Valerius continued, gliding around the desk with a movement that didn't seem human—, an opportunity has arisen. A mission that requires the kind of poison that only the two of you can distill. But not as rivals.

The Leader pulled out a small black velvet box and placed it on the table. Inside, two rings of pale, ancient gold shone with an amber light that seemed to pulse. Mila felt a pang of alarm in her stomach. She knew what they were. She had heard stories about Blood Contracts.

—You will infiltrate the court of Countess Beatrice de Valois —Valerius decreed—. You must recover an arcane document that is under the protection of an eccentric mage and uncover the plot being hatched against our allies. The court is a nest of vipers, and access is only permitted to couples of the high nobility. You will be the Counts of Almagro, an exiled married couple seeking refuge.

—Married? —Mila let out a dry laugh, almost a cough—. I'd rather drink rat poison. Sir, with all due respect, this idiot wouldn't know how to fake affection even if his life depended on it.

—Well, technically his life does depend on it —Bastián intervened, though his tone was much less mocking than usual—. Valerius, a magical contract? It's a bit excessive, don't you think? We can pretend without the need for... ties.

—I do not trust your ability to pretend without a real incentive —Valerius said with a terrifying coldness—. Put on the rings.

It was an order, not a suggestion. Mila hesitated for only a second before the Leader's gaze forced her to act. She took the smaller ring. Bastián, with a sigh of resignation, took the other. As soon as the metals touched their skin, Valerius extended his hands and murmured a single word in a dead language that made the shadows in the room stir.

The pain was instant and absolute. Mila felt as if a bolt of ice ran through her veins from her ring finger to her heart. It was a burst of pure magic that stole her breath, sealing her fate to that of the man beside her. She groaned through her teeth as she felt her own essence intertwine with Bastián's. When the amber light faded, the bond was made.

—Congratulations to the newlyweds —Valerius said, returning to his position behind the desk—. The rules are simple. You cannot move more than ten meters away from each other. If you try, the pain will bring you to your knees. If one of you dies, the other will suffer a slow agony until the contract is fulfilled or broken by my hand. Absolute loyalty to the mission. Any attempt at betrayal will activate the curse and drain your life in a matter of minutes.

Mila breathed heavily, staring at the ring that now seemed fused to her skin. The bond emitted a constant vibration, a strange presence at the edge of her consciousness that told her exactly where Bastián was. It was suffocating.

—Well —Bastián managed to say, trying to regain his composure—. I suppose this rules out separate rooms. Do you think the Countess has large beds, or will we have to start practicing the art of not elbowing each other in the face, wife?

Mila shot him a look that would have incinerated a less arrogant man.

—If you touch me while I sleep, I will cut off your fingers with the same knife I use to serve you breakfast —she hissed.

—Remember —Valerius added, ignoring their barbs—, that this contract allows me to track your exact location at all times. There is no hiding for you. You are my hands and my eyes in Valois. Bastián, be careful. I have seen the guest list. There are names that might be... familiar to you.

Bastián tensed imperceptibly. Mila noticed it thanks to the damned connection they now shared. A shadow of doubt crossed her partner's face, something he rarely allowed to be seen. Someone from his past? Mila tucked the information away for later. In the guild, information was the only weapon that never ran out of ammunition.

—Take these —Valerius said, handing them a bundle of parchments with their new identities and the sealed invitations—. You depart at dawn. If you succeed, your promotion will be immediate. If you fail... well, the contract will ensure you don't have to worry about the future.

Valerius gestured with his hand, dismissing them. Mila turned to leave, but the invisible tether of the spell forced her to wait for Bastián to move. They left the room in a tense silence, feeling the weight of their Leader's gaze on the back of their necks.

Upon reaching the corridor, Mila stopped dead and Bastián nearly collided with her. Instinctively, he placed a hand on her shoulder to steady himself. Mila noticed his hand was warm and firm, a bothersome contrast to the cold of the stone walls. She jerked away, irritated by the fact that her body had not reacted with the disgust her mind demanded.

—Don't touch me —she said, her voice laced with venom.

—It's the contract, Mila. I was just trying not to fall. We're going to have to get used to sharing this very limited living space —he replied, pointing to the space between them—. Ninety days. It's going to be hell, isn't it?

—The worst of my life —she confirmed, looking at the ring that flashed with a promise of death—. But I assure you one thing, Bastián: if we die, I'll make sure you reach the other side first so I can enjoy a minute of silence before meeting you there.

Bastián smiled, a genuine expression of amusement that Mila found deeply offensive. Together, chained by a magic they hated, they walked toward the exit, preparing for the performance of their lives. The hatred was still there, but now it had to coexist with a heartbeat that was not her own.