Chapter 32
Seren
“Is the temple dedicated to Solric?” Rykr asked as we climbed the pillared steps to the enormous structure.
“Among others.” I scanned the dark interior. The hour was getting late. Rykr had insisted that we get something to eat and drink before coming here, and much as I’d grumbled, the meal had made me feel slightly better.
Until I remembered that I’d almost killed us both by losing control.
Gloom gnawed at me, an ache that refused to let go. Every step toward the gleaming black marble arches of the temple felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the memory of what had happened.
Rykr didn’t blame me—at least, not openly—but I couldn’t shake the guilt. What if next time, I couldn’t pull back? What if next time, I destroyed everything?
A statue of Bryndis loomed at the top of the stairs, arms outstretched, the feathered wings of her cloak unfurled behind her. Nude, powerful, mocking. Goddess of love—but also death. Magic. One of the few deities to survive the destruction of the Old World at Vornfall.
The statue’s empty eyes pierced through me. I’d taken her oath, only to learn that it was more of a curse than a gift. Maybe that was the point. Maybe love was a curse and humans were too feeble-minded to comprehend that truth.
Love wasn’t just pleasure and desire—it was loss. And the loss of it was the most painful wound of all.
Rykr’s hand settled at the small of my back.
“Do you really think we’ll find answers here?
” His analytical gaze searched the temple’s vaulted shadows, where torches threw light into the spaces enchanted sunlight couldn’t reach.
Incense cloyed thickly, curling like unseen fingers, masking the movement of the many robed figures beyond.
“We’ll be fine. There are laws about spilling blood in the temple.” I sounded more confident than I felt. “And yes, the priests and priestesses could help. They know more about the old gods and Old World than most.”
“Laws against spilling blood have never stopped anyone with malicious intentions,” Rykr said flatly. His hand at my back sent a ripple of warmth through me, steadying, but unnatural in its intensity. The bond. Always there, amplifying every touch, every glance.
It was maddening how easily his presence steadied me, even when I wanted to be furious with him. Even when I wasn’t sure if the feelings were mine, or the bond’s. Was it me who wanted him near, or the magic threading us together?
I shivered and pushed forward. The longer we stayed here, the more the air around us felt threatening, the crowds too thick, the feeling we were being watched overwhelming.
A swish of robes up ahead caught my attention. A priest?
The cloaked figure turned, the silhouette of her profile visible in the candlelight. A young and beautiful woman. She smiled at us, beckoning us forward.
The woman slipped behind a gauzy curtain, the fabric billowing in a breeze from an unknown source. Her hand extended from beyond it, one slender finger motioning us to follow her.
I exchanged a look with Rykr. His posture was rigid, alert.
“If they want answers about their bond, they must come beyond the curtain,” a soft, melodic voice murmured.
Reluctantly, I pressed forward with Rykr close behind. “Are you sure we should …”
I tightened my grip on Rykr’s hand, stepping forward before he could object. “We came for answers,” I said, my voice firm, though my stomach churned with unease. “We’re not leaving without them.”
The cloaked woman turned toward us, her face half shrouded in candlelight, a sly smile playing at her lips. “Brave words. But bravery and recklessness are often the same.”
The area she’d entered was curtained on all sides, with pillows on the ground. Candles burned brightly on the floor and candelabras of various heights surrounded us. She came closer, then took my hand, leading me toward the pillows. “Be seated.”
Rykr lowered himself beside me.
Slowly, the woman unclasped her cloak. It slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Beneath it, she wore a nearly transparent dress that hugged her curves. Gold leaf barely covered her nipples, and the only other thing she wore was a delicate chain at her waist, dipping between her legs.
She was intoxicatingly beautiful, with thick golden hair that flowed down her back, unplaited, a circlet of gold around her forehead.
She wasn’t a priestess.
She’s a Seidr.
Known for their powers of seduction, they used trances and spells to travel into the spirit world and gain knowledge.
My mouth went dry, my gaze shooting to Rykr. Heat flared in my chest as I caught him watching her. She moved like a living flame, her every step a hypnotic sway, her amber eyes locked on Rykr with a predatory gleam.
My fingers curled into fists at my sides. I knew it was the bond amplifying my emotions, twisting my thoughts—but that didn’t stop the sting. What did I expect? That he wouldn’t notice her beauty? That he’d only ever look at me?
I forced my voice to steady. “If you’re done gawking, maybe we can get to the part where she actually helps us.”
The Seidr’s amber eyes traveled to me. “She called upon Bryndis and yet the bond remains unconsummated. Unstable. Reckless.”
She came closer, running her fingertips along my cheek. With a hint of a smile on her lips, she moved from me to Rykr, then gazed into his eyes. She knelt before him, those long slender fingers now tracing his jawline, his lips. “His blood is precious.” She leaned forward, then kissed his mouth.
I shot up to my feet, the gauzy curtains swaying in response. “We shouldn’t have come.”
Rykr lifted a hand to her and gently pushed her back. Firmly. Each second his hand remained on her, though, my blood boiled.
With a slow smile spreading across her lips, the Seidr stood away from Rykr. Her hands dragged over her body, slowly, seductively, her hips swaying to some unknown music we couldn’t hear. “They don’t really want to break the bond. And why would they? It’s delicious.”
This woman was completely insane.
“Actually, I do. We both do. I need to know how to keep him out of my head.”
She gave me a sharp look. “And yet she’s desperate for him to be inside her. Her desire for him grows daily.”
I swallowed hard, unable to look at Rykr as heat crept into my face. “We’re leaving.”
It didn’t help that Rykr hadn’t moved or said anything since we’d sat. Damned men. Always so easily distracted by the female form.
She turned in a slow circle. “Soul and mind connected. Now they need body. The bridge must be complete.”
I shook Rykr’s shoulder. “Rykr. Let’s go.”
His eyes shifted to mine, then beyond the curtain, narrowing slightly. “Can the bond be broken?” he asked the Seidr.
“That is beyond the power of this realm. Only divine power can extinguish a divine oath.” The Seidr stopped, then her brow furrowed, deep with sorrow. Her eyes, once bright, grew dimmer, bluer, like a blind woman’s.
“She will diminish. She’s lost a piece of her soul and he is no ordinary mortal. A beast lives inside him, forged in the blood of the oath.”
What was she saying?
Her breasts sagged before my gaze, her flat belly growing loose, the skin hanging. The golden hair turned white, and every inch of her face became lined with wrinkles.
I gasped and Rykr stood straight, his hand drawing me back toward him, curling me into his arm. “Diminish? You mean her powers won’t work?”
“She cannot survive the bond.”
My breath hitched. The words echoed in my mind, louder than the crackling of the candle flames or the muffled sounds of footsteps outside the curtain.
The Seidr’s amber eyes glowed, her voice low and mournful. “It is unbalanced. He is too powerful, and her soul is incomplete.”
Rykr shifted beside me, his hand tightening on my arm. “What does that mean?” he demanded, his tone sharp, almost angry.
“As the bond grows,” the Seidr continued, her eyes growing distant, “her spirit will diminish. She will fade.”
What in the name of the gods?
She cannot survive? It sounded as though she was saying … the oath would kill me?
I gripped the edge of a pillow to steady myself. “When?” The word came out as a whisper. “How long do I have? Will we survive the Skorn?”
The woman’s voice grew weaker, older, her shoulders rounding with age. “The bond will be complete, and with it, his power will awaken fully. But power such as his does not come without a cost.”
I shivered, not only at her words, but at the chill in the air, the change in her face. “What cost?”
The Seidr’s gaze turned toward me, heavy with sorrow. “It will rip her apart. Without balance, the power will consume one of you. And the war outside these walls will mean nothing if the beast inside him is unleashed.”
The riddles made me want to scream, dig my hands into her and shake her for a straight and clear answer.
Rykr stiffened. “What beast?”
The Seidr gave him a faint, eerie smile. “You already know, don’t you? She told you.”
The spark vanished from her face. The Seidr blinked at us blindly, as though she could no longer see us there.
“Explain what you mean,” I managed, despite my horror. “How can the bond be balanced?”
“He will take the bond.” Some of the teeth that had once formed her gorgeous smile clattered to the stone floor. One by one.
I gagged. Was this Seidr going to drop dead before our eyes? “Rykr has to take the Oath of Bryndis so I don’t die?”
She lifted mournful eyes at me, reaching a trembling hand toward my cheek again. Her words grew muffled, hard to hear. “Yes. But the consequences …” She breathed out slowly, her ribs protruding with each breath. “He will release a great evil inside her. The threads of fate are fixed.”
The Seidr reached for her cloak, then fled beyond the curtain.