11. Darak
11
DARAK
T he sun hangs low in the sky, painting everything in shades of amber and crimson that remind me too much of blood on battlefield snow. My feet ache from the endless walking, muscles protesting each step across the uneven terrain, but Lirien pushes forward like a woman possessed.
She hasn't spoken more than three words to me since we left the cottage this morning, and her silence weighs heavier than my sword.
"We need to make camp." The words fall into empty air as she continues walking, her dark robes billowing around her ankles. "Lirien."
She doesn't even turn her head. The silver strands of her hair whip in the wind, catching the dying sunlight like strands of precious metal. Those cursed charms she weaves into it chime softly with each determined step.
"The sun's setting. Unless you plan to navigate in the dark—" I let the threat of night predators hang unspoken between us, knowing she understands the dangers as well as I do.
"I can conjure light," she snaps, that faint green glow already beginning to pulse around her fingertips.
My fingers flex at my sides. "And waste your energy when we could just stop and rest?"
She keeps walking.
I grab her arm, spinning her to face me, feeling the slight tremor of magic beneath her skin. "Enough. You're being childish." The charms in her hair jingle mockingly as she jerks against my grip.
"Let go of me." Her green eyes flash dangerously, that eerie glow intensifying with her anger. The air crackles with the threat of her power, but I've faced worse than a temperamental witch.
"Make camp with me, or I'll sit right here and the bond won't let you go any further." I tap the invisible tether between us with my own magic, watching her flinch at the reminder of our forced connection.
Her nostrils flare. For a moment, I think she might try to drag me along anyway - it wouldn't be the first time she's tested the limits of our binding. Then her shoulders slump, the fight draining from her like water from a broken vessel.
"Fine." The word comes out bitter and sharp, but I'll take her surrender, however reluctant.
We set up camp in tense silence, each movement deliberate and distant. The fire crackles between us, casting dancing shadows across her face that make her look older, more haunted. The scar on her cheek—my doing, from our first violent encounter—catches the light and makes my sword hand twitch with the memory.
"Lirien." I wait until she looks up from where she's methodically arranging her herbs, those unsettling green eyes fixing on me like a predator's. "I think we should strengthen the bond."
"No."
My jaw tightens until I can feel the muscle jumping beneath my skin. "Yes," I snap back, leaning forward into the firelight. "This isn't just about you. I'm stuck with it, too, okay? Every time you fight against it, we both suffer."
She whirls toward me, her silver hair catching the firelight like liquid moonlight, those cursed charms tinkling with the sudden movement. "I get it! You don't have to keep rubbing it in my face that this bond is the worst damn thing to happen to you!" Her voice cracks on the last words, betraying something deeper than mere anger.
"Lirien, that's not-"
"Oh, save it!" A bitter laugh escapes her throat as she paces, her robes swishing against the grass. "You're just saying this out of pity anyway."
I rise to my feet, the muscles in my jaw clenching tight enough to ache. "I don't pity you, I just don't want you to die! Is that so hard to believe?" The words come out harsher than intended, but the frustration of these endless arguments has worn my patience thin.
"Yes!" The word explodes from her like a spell, her green eyes blazing in the darkness with that eerie light I've come to know too well. "After everything? After what you said to me? Yes, Darak, it's nearly impossible to believe."
Her voice carries the weight of our shared history, of blade against magic, of hunter and hunted.
My hands find her shoulders before I can stop myself, and she stiffens under my touch like a startled deer. The familiar sensation of her warmth bleeds through the fabric of her robes.
"Feel it," I say, my voice dropping low, almost to a whisper. The bond, our connection, is strong, like a living thing made of shadow and starlight, impossible to ignore when we're this close. "Feel me. This isn't pity, and I'm not being insincere."
I can taste the truth of my own words, bitter and sweet on my tongue, wondering when exactly this demon stopped being my enemy and became something else entirely.
The connection thrums, carrying the weight of my conviction. Her eyes widen as the truth of my words flows through our shared link.
"Whatever." Lirien yanks away from my grip, her silver hair catching the firelight as she turns.
My patience snaps like a bowstring pulled too tight. "We need to strengthen it. Together, we could?—"
"No." She wraps her arms around herself, shoulders hunched.
"Why not?" The words come out harder than intended, echoing in the night air. The fire pops, sending sparks dancing between us.
She spins to face me, green eyes bright with unshed tears. "Because there's a chance that it won't be able to be removed, and then you'll be miserable with me for the rest of your life." Her voice cracks on the last word, and something in my chest breaks with it.
The self-loathing in her voice ignites something primal in me, a fury that anyone - even herself - would dare think so little of her worth. Before I can think better of it, I cross the distance between us in two determined strides.
My hands find her waist, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her robes as I pull her against me. Her eyes widen, green irises flaring bright with magic, lips parting in surprise at my sudden boldness.
I capture those lips with mine, swallowing her gasp of protest or pleasure - I'm not sure which. The bond flares between us like a struck match, hot and bright as summer lightning, crackling with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. Her mouth is soft, her lips as plump as they look, tasting faintly of the herbal tea she favors. The scent of her - wild herbs and moonflower - fills my senses.
I pull back, my heart thundering against my ribs like a war drum as I meet her startled gaze. The bond has shifted between us, alive with something new and dangerous, something that threatens to consume us both. Her silver hair has come loose from its careful arrangement, and my fingers itch to run through it, to pull her close another time.
"Are you going to spit on me again?"
Her lips—still pink from our kiss—part and close like a fish out of water. "I haven't decided yet." She touches her bottom lip with trembling fingers. "Why did you do that?"
The bond hums, electric and insistent. I ignore her question, because honestly, I don't have an answer I'm ready to give. "Strengthen the bond with me."
"Fine." She drops her hand, reaching for her pack. "But I need materials."
The firelight catches the silver in her hair as she pulls out several white candles. She arranges them in a circle around us, her movements precise and practiced.
"The strengthening ritual is different from the initial binding or sealing the binding." She lights each candle with a whispered word. "It requires both participants to be willing. You'll need to match my energy with yours."
"How?" The bond tingles across my skin, making it hard to focus.
"Remember how it felt when you helped stabilize my magic?" She kneels beside me, close enough that her knee brushes mine. "Like that, but deeper. More intentional."
I shift, uncomfortable with how aware I am of her proximity. "And you're certain this won't make the bond permanent?"
You were closer to her last night .
"No." Her green eyes meet mine, honest and open in a way that makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. There's a vulnerability there I'm not used to seeing from her. "I'm not certain of anything anymore."
The candlelight flickers across her face, casting dancing shadows that highlight the scar I gave her - that thin, silvery line marring her left cheek. My stomach twists at the sight of it, a reminder of how quickly things between us had changed from hunter and prey to... whatever this is now.
She holds out her hands, palms up, waiting. The soft glow of her magic already shimmers beneath her skin like moonlight through water. "Let's begin. Unless you've changed your mind?" Her voice carries a hint of challenge, but there's something else there too - uncertainty, perhaps even fear.
I shake my head, putting my large hands in her delicate fingers, not oblivious to the tingling. "No. I'm ready."
Let's do this.