The Last Pack

9. BONDS

When Iselda returned the next morning, Fidella had already been awake for over an hour. Desperate to hear some news. Bounding into the room, Iselda headed straight for her friend’s bed and relayed the messages that Conri had reminded her of again, before she had left his cell. A warm comforting sensation felt like a balm to her soul as she realised that her mate did want her. For the first time since her capture, she wasn’t alone. Making it her mission to tell him how she felt, Fidella practically skipped into the kitchen to put a plan in place, so that she could share words with Conri rather than facial expressions and gestures.

Standing beside the column, Fidella was pumping water onto her cloth to save time later on. Conri was standing in the breakfast queue, and she could see the tension in his shoulders. Last week she assumed the tension and frown were a sign of his anger and rejection. Now she knew that it came from his irritation of not seeing her. He sat at his usual table, while she initiated her plan.

“Drop a bowl of porridge and make a mess on your table, but make it look like an accident,” Fidella instructed Conri through the mind link.

Blindly following her instructions, he hit the table with his knee with as much force as was possibly plausible for an accident and watched as his porridge and water merged together, dripping off the table. Despite shocking the other gladiators and slaves, Fidella ran straight over and began to clean the table. Kneeling to take care of the floor, she whispered to Conri,

“Iselda told me what you said and I feel the same way,” Inching closer to him, while continuing to clean the floor, she surreptitiously placed the back of her hand on his shin, immediately sending tingles up his leg. Her audible gasp conveyed the pleasure that she felt running up her arm from the sensation of touching Conri.

“What you feel is our bond, it will get stronger each time we see each other, from today until our last day we are interwoven. If you accept our bond, then we can mind link no matter how far apart we are. When I call out in your mind, picture my face and speak back. I’ll be able and waiting to hear you,” Abruptly, she moved her hand as if realising the danger she would put them in by lingering too long. As she looked in his eyes, he could see her control was slipping as the black was fighting against the magnificent blue. Conri was always a risk taker, so he ducked under the table, making it seem as if he was collecting the bowl and cup.

“I’ve dreamt of having my first conversation with you since the moment I first saw you on the balcony. I’ll never tire of hearing your voice. I’ll be practising this mind linking with you as often as possible,” Conri murmured as quietly as he could.

“I’m glad you like the sound of my voice, because I want to hear from you all the time, and you’ll be hearing all the time from me,” Her shy soft blush made her even more desirable.

“I think your voice is more beautiful than my mind could formulate words to do it justice,” He smiled at her, before she stood up and returned to her position.

The mind link had been thoroughly exhausted that day and the days thereafter. Conri wanted to know everything he could about Fidella, and she asked him to confirm or deny all the legendary stories she had been told of his excellence in the arena. He had asked her what her favourite food was, and she had told him about the time when her first Domina’s daughter had shared some pomegranate seeds with her, and even to this day, her mouth watered when she remembered the taste. She asked if he had any other hobbies outside of combat and he divulged his secret talent, which was carpentry. The next day, he managed to give her a stone as she filled his cup and on the flat surface was an uncanny, carved sketch of her. She told him that her parents had taught her to read and write, and she had managed to continue to learn. Conri was impressed at this skill because all slaves were forbidden to read, and the fact that she had continued to nurture this skill was testament to her bravery. Conri had asked about her childhood and family, but the sorrow he could feel from her made him quickly change the topic. This was something he would ask her about when she was in his arms, he decided. Conri told her about when he first became the Heaton House champion and how it had been his dream for so long, but how now his greatest dream that he craved for more than his victories was to fall asleep next to her for all of his nights to come.

Later that same week, in the early hours of the morning, Conri and Fidella were describing the characters of their wolves when Fidella’s cell door swung open with such force that Fidella thought it was the Dominus coming for her. Shocked, she found Iselda limping into their room barely able to carry her own weight. She quickly blocked off her mind link with a brief goodbye and helped her friend into bed, unnerved by violent shaking that was an indication of her distress. Looking over her body, she could see bruises that were clearly caused by finger prints, her ankle was significantly swollen and there were scratches and welts on her skin. The most significant injury was the red welt that was wrapped around the circumference of her neck. It had clearly been caused by a silver collar. Iselda wrapped her arms around her friend, and let the tears fall tumultuously down her face, until exhaustion took over her, and she fell asleep.

Fidella tucked Iselda into the blanket, and went to the stove to boil some water in the pot. While she waited, she retrieved the bucket and one of the cloths from the stores. After pouring the boiling water and cloth into the bucket, she returned to their cell and left it on the floor to cool off a little. She had already broken at least half a dozen rules and it wasn’t even dawn yet. She was so outraged at the hurt that had been caused to her friend that she fully intended to break many more before the sun kissed the sky. Storming down to the gladiator quarters, she brought forward her wolf a little to catch Ewan’s scent. Soon enough, her nose led her to his door where she continued to pound until she could hear movement from inside. She was sure she had woken all the gladiators by now, but her fury caused her to not give a fig about their comforts. Eventually, Ewan’s cell door creaked open.

“You need to take the bangle off Iselda, right now!” Fidella glared at him, while her wolf was releasing as much of her deadly aura as she could, regardless of the silver bangle around her own wrist. Impatiently, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him up the stairs.

“What has happened Fidella?” Asked a wary Ewan, who, despite being a good foot taller than the she-wolf pulling on his arm, was intelligent enough to know that she was barely in control of her wolf.

Fidella didn’t answer his question, but led him to her cell where Iselda was still asleep, even though the tears continued to slowly fall down her face. Ewan moved closer to assess her injuries, but was shocked when Fidella intercepted him.

“I’ll clean up her injuries. You get the bangle removed so she can start to heal. Don’t go near her until she wakes up, and even then only if she wants you to,” Fidella wasn’t to be negotiated with, she was protecting her friend. Ewan knew it was a pack instinct, and with a protection like that, he too found himself wanting to be a part of the pack.

Ewan left to get the key from the Dominus. Fidella began to clean Iselda from head to toe, as if she were a glass figurine. Iselda woke up half way through and held her friend’s hand as she finished her ministrations.

“What happened, Iselda?” There was no reply, just the urgent shaking of her head.

“It’s OK, just tell me who it was,” Fidella looked up and gulped, as if she was going to vomit on the word.

“Leighton,” She whispered, before turning her back and going back to sleep.

Not long after, Ewan returned with the silver key for the bangle. His hands had the shape of a key burned into his palm, but he didn’t seem too concerned. He unclipped the bangle and looked at the vulnerable woman on the bed one last time.

“We haven’t done right by her. From now on she won’t know any suffering from our hands,” Ewan said magnanimously.

“How gracious of you all,” Fidella’s taut reply was cutting and well deserved, as she closed the door on his exit. She didn’t return to her own bed that night, but slid in beside Iselda hoping that if she woke in the night she would get some strength from their sisterly bond.