Freed from Gravity (Bound and Freed #2)

Chapter 1

One

ALLETTE

If I am to die, I will die in the arms of my mate.

That knowledge brings me some semblance of peace as I hurtle through unending darkness, slipping between realms until the portal spits me into a dull gray sky spinning with thick white flakes. Squinting against the sudden onslaught of frozen air, I find my love’s body plummeting toward the ground far below, his arms and legs akimbo like the dead raven tattooed across his ribs.

Except in that inky cage, the raven is alone, and this beautiful, broken man has me.

I pin my arms to my sides, making myself as aerodynamic as possible, and lock my gaze on my prince’s falling form, praying the speed I gain will be enough. Icy wind stings my tear-stained cheeks, whipping my hair behind me like a dark cape.

The snow-dusted ground draws closer, but so do my love and I, falling like two stars discarded from the heavens.

Senan is as silent as the air around us, his closed eyes facing a world that threw him away.

I reach for him, stretching myself to the point of breaking until my fingers brush his, capturing one limp hand, then the other.

Our bodies collide, as if destiny herself yanked the invisible threads woven between our hearts, binding us as one. I clamp my legs around his waist, racking my brain for some way to rescue us. Some way to defy gravity. There’s no point in crying out to the stars; they’ve done nothing but curse us since the day we flouted fate.

Our survival depends on me and me alone.

If this had happened four years ago, I would’ve had my wings. Even without wings, I would’ve had my element. The magic within me used to burn like star fire through my veins, granting me dominion over the very air we breathe.

Now I have nothing.

My love’s lashes remain closed, his handsome features contorted in pain.

Nothing but my love for this man.

We’re falling too fast, and my whirling mind refuses to cooperate. Fear and terror collide in my heart, sparking something deep within me, and I remember.

I remember how it felt to create chaos with a summer breeze.

I remember how I used to shape and bend that which is invisible.

I remember .

More sparks flicker in my chest, tinder catching fire.

Memories. Hope. Love.

Love for this man who gave everything to save me.

Isn’t that the greatest magic in all the realms? Stronger than air or fire combined. An element within us all, Tuath or Scathian. Human or fae.

The love inside me begins to rumble, a slumbering beast waking within my chest.

We’ve been taught that a Scathian’s power emanates from our wings, but what if that isn’t true?

My prince and I have endured so many lies. Could this be one of them? What if Scathian power doesn’t come from her wings, but from her heart?

Even facing certain death, my heart is full.

I tuck my face into my love’s neck, inhaling his essence as I extend a hand toward the expanding earth. My shattered soul, bound with hope, sings to the breeze, calling upon its power. The air doesn’t need to catch us, only slow us down.

Maybe it’s desperation, but I swear those phantom sparks of magic that once lit me from within begin to stir. Ignite. Fueled by sheer panic and a desperate will to survive.

When I call, the breeze answers. Faint, but its whisper is undeniable.

The breeze becomes a gale, swirling around us, whirling our bodies in dizzying circles until Senan is the one on top of me. I throw out every last ember, slowing our descent, but will it be enough?

Clinging to my prince, I profess my undying devotion to him, praying he can hear me. Vowing to love him forever, whether forever ends today or centuries from now.

We reach the tops of the barren trees, creaking and swaying in the wind.

The standing stones capped with snow.

When I have nothing left to give, we land with a resounding thud against the sleeping earth. The air evacuates my lungs, leaving a searing ache in its wake. An ache as beautiful as it is painful, because if I am hurting, it means I’m still alive.

Snowflakes drift in lazy pirouettes, catching on my lashes.

Stars above, I did it.

I saved us.

With throbbing arms, I ease Senan off me, rolling him onto the snowy ground. His pitiful whimper is the sweetest sound to ever grace my ears.

He is wounded but he is alive.

I’ve never been so happy to hear someone’s cry.

We made it. We made it!

The heavy layer of clouds far above begins to darken like a bad omen, stealing my elation. We may have landed without breaking our necks, but the panic isn’t over yet. If the king sends anyone after us, we won’t be safe here in the open. We need to move—and fast.

When I caress my prince’s cheek, he does not stir. “Senan? Senan, my love. You must wake up. We need to leave.” These standing stones are nothing but beacons to anyone who might venture through the portal, friend or foe.

Right now, all we seem to have is the latter.

What will I do if he doesn’t wake up? Even if I manage to drag him to safety, the snow will give away our position. “Senan, please. I know it hurts, but I need you to come back to me. Please.”

More snowflakes dust his lashes as I continue to beg, glancing at the ever-darkening clouds. There isn’t time. I’ll have to find a way on my own. I don’t need to take him far, just far enough so that we can hide. But hide where? These woods are nothing but barren trees and boulders.

At least the first would give us some options for cover. Out here in the open, we’re as good as dead.

Stumbling to my feet, I slip my arms beneath Senan’s and pull with all my might. The slippery ground makes it almost impossible to gain purchase, but somehow, I manage. Snow crunches beneath my boots as I drag him behind the nearest evergreen bush, his bloodstained back leaving crimson streaks across the pristine blanket of white.

Even though my body feels broken, I cannot rest until we are both safe.

Once more, I call on my element, my magic flickering like a candle in a heavy storm. The power is there, but distant. Faint. From my outstretched palms, a breeze twists toward the standing stones, whipping the snow into a frenzy as fresh flakes drift over our tracks, obscuring the blood.

Will it be enough?

Black specks appear high in the sky, hurtling toward the ground at breakneck speed.

Scathian guards—at least three.

The bush’s prickly branches jab into my shoulders when I crouch next to my love. If they discover our hiding place, I’ll need some way to protect us. I search my prince for weapons only to come up empty. Perhaps there is something of use in his bag.

I slip the pack from my back, finding the clothes stuffed inside damp from the snow. Something sharp slices my finger, too small to be a blade. Dammit . I stick my finger in my mouth, the coppery tang turning my stomach as I discard the pack and pry a frozen rock free from the ground.

We did not come this far—survive a fall from the heavens—only to be killed by these blackguards. If I have to bash their heads in, I will.

The ground beneath us rattles when the first Scathian in silver leathers lands, his navy wings stretching wide before vanishing.

Bilson . Senan’s personal guard.

Two more follow, but all I can do is glower at the bloody traitor. Senan trusted him—we both did. And he betrayed us.

“Where are the bodies?” the guard with yellow-speckled wings bellows.

Bilson turns in a slow circle, his dark eyes narrowing as he scans the ground. “Fan out. They can’t be far.”

Don’t fan out. Give up. Go home. Please …

“And when we find them?” the other one asks.

The softest breath falls from my lips.

Bilson’s head snaps toward where we hide. Although it’s impossible, I swear his dark eyes lock with mine through the spiny branches.

Bilson’s lip curls, his tone as sharp as the blade in his fist. “Burn them to ash.”

The two men take off in opposite directions, one heading across the field and the other toward town. Bilson remains rooted to the snowy ground. When he finally takes a step toward where we hide, my heart leaps into my throat.

Twigs snap beneath Bilson’s boots as he creeps into the forest, ducking beneath a fallen branch, still staring directly at me.

My fingers tighten around the stone, prepared to attack.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not prepared for anything. I’m shaking in my boots, but surprise is my only ally, my only chance at victory.

Three more steps and he will be upon us.

Two…

One …

Bilson catches the branch hiding us, sweeping it aside.

I spring to my feet and swing, but his massive hand catches my wrist, holding me firmly. I screw my eyes closed, unable to watch as he raises his blade and ends my life in one fell swoop.

I wait and wait and wait, but the pain never comes.

When I finally manage to pry open my eyes, I find Bilson staring down at my love’s broken body. He tosses my hand aside, knocking me off-kilter. By the time I right myself, Bilson has crouched next to Senan’s still form.

“Don’t you touch him!” I shove Bilson’s broad back, but he’s too bloody big and too bloody strong to budge. “I said don’t?—”

Bilson’s head snaps up, his lips curling in a sneer. “If you don’t stop shrieking, they’ll find you.”

Why does he care? Why isn’t he stabbing us with his dagger? Why isn’t he calling fire to his palm and burning our bodies as he ordered the others to do?

Bilson cannot be on our side. “You threw me into the pit.” I begged and begged for him to release me, but he held fast.

The guard tugs Senan’s stained shirt from his waistband. “Only because I knew he wouldn’t let you stay there for long.”

That’s a lie, isn’t it? I mean, Senan didn’t let me stay in the pit, but Bilson couldn’t possibly have known the outcome. If he’d been on my side—or Senan’s for that matter—he would’ve taken me somewhere besides that hellish prison. Then Eason never would’ve found me, and we wouldn’t be in this forsaken place, running for our lives.

What choice do I have but to trust him? It’s not as if I have any hope of overpowering the man.

I sink onto the ground, watching Bilson lift Senan’s shirt, the fabric black from so much blood. My prince’s wounds aren’t smooth and small like mine, but jagged black stumps.

Bilson reaches for the short sword at his belt. I catch his arm only to falter when he doesn’t draw the blade, but a small leather flask.

Understanding flickers through his eyes. “I’m only cleaning his wounds so they don’t get infected.”

Stars, I never considered the possibility of infection.

Twisting the lid free, Bilson pours clear liquid over what remains of Senan’s wings, the water running red onto the snow.

“Why don’t you heal him?” At least then we’ll have a fighting chance at survival.

“If I return to Kumulus drained of magic, the king will grow suspicious. I’m risking enough as it is.” Bilson steals another glance at me. “How did you survive the fall?”

The man may be helping us now, but he could betray us later to save his own skin. Best to keep my secrets, just in case. “The snow cushioned our landing.”

He snorts. “You’re a terrible liar.” Thankfully, he doesn’t press for more information as he returns the lid to the flask. “You know this realm, yes?”

“I do.”

“Do you have someplace safe to stay?”

Telling him about the cottage is risky, but I can’t think of any way around it. I need to move Senan somewhere warm, and while I might have dragged him to this bush, the cottage is over a mile away.

“There is a cottage nearby where we can hide.”

Slipping one hand gingerly beneath Senan’s head and another under his knees, Bilson stands, the muscles in his arms straining from my prince’s weight. “What are you waiting for? Lead the way.”

I dart for the path that cuts through the empty forest, finding it quickly enough despite the snow. Bilson has no problem keeping up as we make our way past the old logging road, through the glen, and over the creek. The snow dampens the sounds of our footfalls as we traverse the final stretch of the forest toward the place I once lived but never called home.

A place I inhabited alongside a man who kept me as his unknowing hostage for four years.

A cage of my own.

Bilson remains silent, his mouth bracketed with concern each time I catch him glancing down at the prince. Senan should be awake by now, shouldn’t he? I cannot recall how much time passed between when they stole my wings and when I regained consciousness, but this feels too long.

Then again, Eason had healed me. From the amount of blood dripping down Bilson’s silver leathers, my love is still losing too much.

I push on, my worry fueling each step forward, until the cottage’s bowed roof comes into view, pillowed in pristine white. The place looks even smaller than it used to, with those faded lace curtains pulled. Brown clumps of dead flowers protrude from the window boxes Eason used to fill with flowers every spring.

“Wait,” Bilson hisses.

I still.

Bilson sniffs the air, his brow furrowing. “There is death here.”

The wind shifts, and I catch a whiff of the same foul stench of carrion that clung to the air outside the pit. Why would it smell like that here? Then I remember. “There’s a doe in the shed.” I was supposed to dry the meat but ended up leaving instead.

Bilson eases Senan onto the ground, propping him against a stack of wood before pushing the shed’s crooked door aside. The deer Eason killed still hangs by its neck from a beam, its hide skinned off and muscles gone a purplish brown.

Bilson inhales once more. “That isn’t it.” He shoots a glower back at the cottage, telling me to wait with Senan.

I watch the guard slip through the front door and then turn right back around. “You cannot stay there,” he says.

“Why not? What’s wrong?” When I start for the cottage, he tries to grab me, but I pull out of his grasp. The rotten smell hits me like a punch in the stomach. Not even pressing my hand to my nose makes the stench go away.

What little furniture we owned is in ruins, smashed to bits across the floor. The place was ransacked, the few garments I left behind strewn across the planks, stamped with muddy boot prints.

I bend down to pick up the wool socks I mended, along with the extra shift Eason bought me last Yule. Shards of wood and glass sparkle atop Widow Mae’s abandoned scarf. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it. I add that to my growing pile, shaking it carefully to remove the debris.

On the far side of the bed, I find the source of the smell. Widow Mae sprawls across the floorboards, her head twisted at a sickening angle, and milky, sightless eyes staring toward the wall. Beside her lies the note I wrote to Eason, telling him that I planned to escape through the portal.

Did she fall? Did Eason come back for me and take his rage out on this innocent old woman?

Is this my fault?

A fresh wave of death assaults my senses, and the room starts to spin.

I’m going to be sick.

My stomach revolts, but with nothing in me to expel, I dry heave on the floor.

So much death and pain, all for this star-damned love I’ve insisted on stealing time and again.

If I’d been strong enough to let Senan go, Wynn never would have been murdered and Widow Mae might still be alive. I would’ve been there for my aunt when she passed; Senan and I would still have our wings…

Where do we draw the line? At what point do we decide that our fleeting happiness isn’t worth all the pain and destruction we’ve caused?

Numbness overtakes my bones, spreading like poison through my veins as I collect what little can be salvaged, stuffing the garments into one of the empty grain sacks beneath the broken bed.

Bilson was right; Senan and I cannot stay here.

Perhaps the widow’s cottage will be empty. She has no family to speak of, and the place isn’t far. It’s either that or the inn, and the inn will cost money. While I can hear some coins jingling in Senan’s pack, we must save our funds. Besides, I can hardly show up to town with an unconscious man in tow, can I?

The door creaks open, and Bilson steps through the gap, his gaze dropping to the sack in my clenched fist. “Do you have everything you need from this place?”

Unable to find my voice through the tears thickening my throat, I nod.

“Good. Because the prince is awake and asking for you.”