Chapter 13 Lyra
Lyra
The clang of the cell door opening wakes me. Bleary-eyed, I peer around as Eres steps inside. “This is an improvement.”
He humphs. “Anything would have been an improvement.”
My cell has been… cleaned. There’s a green, roughly-woven heavy-looking rug spread out on the floor to chase away the damp, a three-legged wooden stool and matching small table on one side, a flickering lantern offering light and matched by one hooked against the wall opposite.
At the back is a cot bed, similar to my own bed in Solvandyr, with thick looking blankets folded on top.
And in the middle, a mid-sized iron tub rests, filled with steaming water—
I groan. “A bath?”
Nothing sounds better in the world to me right now. A rag-wash was not enough for me to feel anywhere near clean.
Eres carefully sets me down. “Take your time. There are fresh clothes on the bed, some soaps.”
My shoulders tighten, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “You’re leaving?”
Eres pauses. “Not tonight. I’ll be on the other side of that wall. They brought another tub down for me.”
My mouth opens. “You’re bathing down here? Why?”
He shrugs. “As I said. The aftermath of a Binding—the first day or two, at least—is difficult. It was this, or you stayed in the main castle. This was my compromise with Kaelen.”
He disappears before I can ask anything else, but he leaves the door open.
Perhaps there are guards on the main door.
I listen until the sound of his footsteps echo on the other side of the wall, until I hear the splash of water before I strip off my damp clothes and slip into the tub, pulling up my knees and wrapping my arms around them as I soak in the unexpected warmth.
What a fine mess you’ve found yourself in, Lyra.
I lift my hands, examining the tips of my fingers. Perhaps I’m imagining it, but it feels as though they’re tingling. Experimenting, I flex them as best I can around the bandages, hissing at the pain before I attempt to call my luminth out.
Nothing. But the pain is a good sign. In this case, at least.
Pushing the darker thoughts from my mind, I look away. My gaze catches on my left arm, and I frown. When I twist it, the golden ocher of my skin glimmers in the light from the lantern. But—
Riftlines.
Not just one, but… many. So many, criss-crossing my skin, starting beneath my bandaged hands and traveling up toward my shoulder. But these lines aren’t pure black, like the Darkwielders wear. These are almost silver in color. I trace the lines with the edge of my hand, feeling the faint abrasion.
Swallowing, I keep tracking them, turning and twisting my body as best I can in the tub. As far as I can tell, they’re everywhere. Across my collarbones, my neck, down my chest and over my breasts and stomach, mirrored in my right arm and even past my hips.
I wonder what effect a Lightbringer healer would have on them. If they could remove them. They've removed much worse.
“Lyra?”
I tear my eyes from the marks and reach for the soap I left beside the tub. “I need a few minutes.”
“Take your time.”
Wincing at the growing sting in my hands, I wash off using the soap, rinsing my hair twice before I reluctantly climb out.
There’s not just one change of clothes, but a variety. Choosing a pair of warm-looking brown woolen hose and a darned, soft cream shirt that I have to roll the sleeves up on, I wriggle into them before sitting back on the bed and attacking my hair with the comb left for me. “You can come in now.”
Eres appears at the doorway. He’s still in the process of dressing, tugging a shirt over his head before he steps inside. My hands pause in their movements.
I feel as if I want to… go to him. To get closer. Frowning, I drop my eyes and resume my battle with the knots in my hair.
I can still feel his eyes on me, though. “The riftlines… they cover my face.”
He clears his throat. When I risk another glance, still fighting that urge to stand and move across to him, his expression is careful. “They do, yes. Does that bother you?”
I consider it. “Not particularly.”
But another thought is edging in.
Eres cocks his head. “Ask. Whatever it is that has that look on your face.”
I narrow my eyes at him. That suspicion unfurls in my chest, only added to by the way he so easily reads my expression. “This Binding ceremony… how often is it used?”
Twin spots of color flare across his pale cheeks. Now Eres is the one avoiding my stare. “Not as much as you might think. It’s… a complex thing.”
My voice is flat. But my heartbeat speeds up—either from my own growing panic, or from Eres, and even that thought makes it beat faster. “It’s a mating ceremony. Or something like it. Isn’t it?”
This damn feeling.
His inhale tells me all I need to know. My words are choked. “I am… mated, to you?”
Mated. To a Darkwielder.
My breathing quickens as Eres strides across the room. He kneels in front of me. “Look at me. Please. It’s not what you think.”
Duskbane’s anger makes sense now. “So we’re not mated?”
His hesitation sends a creeping coil of anger through my stomach. “Not in the way you think. The Binding can be used as a mating ceremony. When partners wish to be… closer. A Binding is offered as a final step. For us, it is a sign of trust. But one does not always equal the other.”
I think I might vomit. “But you don’t trust me. I’m a Lightbringer, Eres. You said it was permanent. What happens if you wish to bind with somebody else?”
Somebody like a snarling, night-eyed male who speaks in shadows instead of words.
Hands cup my cheeks. “Look at me.”
I force myself to meet his gaze.
He speaks slowly, not looking away. “There is only one person I might have wished to bind with, Lyra. But Kaelen is already bound. That… it’s not possible for us.”
My brows draw together. “He bound himself to someone else?”
“And that’s his business,” Eres says carefully.
There’s a quiet warning there, if I cared to heed it.
Perhaps pain, too, although I don’t know him enough to say for certain.
“But it means that I was free to offer a Binding to you. Not as a mating, but as… security. To buy you a place here. You are not the first person to receive a Binding for this reason, and I have no regrets.”
“Then why do I feel like this?” I whisper. “I feel… strange.”
“It will pass.” His thumb strokes over my cheek. “This is part of the reason that partners will offer a Binding. This sensation. But it does pass, and quickly. In the meantime, I’ll stay close to you. It can be distressing to be separated. The feelings should be gone by tomorrow.”
It’s becoming clear that whatever his feelings on the matter, whatever a Binding may mean, he has given up something infinitely precious. For me. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know that you needed help,” Eres says gently. He wipes under my eyes. “And whatever sits beneath the story you told us—”
“It was not a story—”
He shakes his head, cutting off my panicked words. “Whatever led you to that clearing, to this, you have a choice now.”
For a moment—just a single, perfect moment, I let myself believe him. I want to hold on to his quiet, warm words and pretend that they’re true. Pretend that I’m only a woman seeking sanctuary instead of a soldier seeking death.
And if it wasn’t for Reena, perhaps I could pretend a little longer.
When I don’t say anything else, his fingers travel to my hair. “I can help with this.”
I draw my knees back up like a child, laying my cheek on them as he rises and crosses the cell. Eres picks up a bag, and I watch as he rifles through it. Not a bag, I realize, but a belt.
He hums lightly beneath his breath, his posture softening as if the movement is soothing to him before he pulls out a small jar. “I can add a little of this oil to your hair and comb out the knots. It will hurt less than you ripping them out.”
His smile is… disarming. At my nod, he approaches me again. The cot shifts as he settles beside me and I turn to the side, feeling him full my damp hair free of my shirt. He works quietly, and I find my eyes drifting closed at the gentle tugging as he works through the knots.
When he's finished, I turn to him. “Can I… I mean, am I allowed to see your riftlines?”
Red plays along his sharp cheekbones, but he nods. “It’s common for us to check each other’s marks. Erevan will sometimes add a symbol to them as a sign of good luck.”
He pulls his shirt back off, dropping it onto the bed before catching my hand gently and drawing it to his chest. I brush the pad of my darkened finger against one of his marks. “This one is new?”
He nods. “I believe so. I won’t know for certain until I can check in a mirror, but it’s common to have one mark added.”
I purse my lips as I look down at the neckline of my shirt. “What does it mean that I have so many?”
“I don’t know,” Eres admits. He stands quietly as I begin where he showed me, following the mark with my finger.
It travels diagonally across his chest, curving around his nipple and branching out across his stomach.
His skin flexes beneath my touch, and I receive a boyish grin when I look up. “I’m ticklish.”
I bite my cheek to hide my amusement, only for it to fade as my hand brushes against the hairs that leads from his navel to down, below his waistband.
He hisses air between his teeth as I run my finger beneath the material of his hose, following the line as it winds around his hip and back up, a dark line directly up his spine that branches out just below the back of his neck, similar to the branches of a tree.
“It ends here.” My voice wavers. “No special signs for you.”
“Am I interrupting?”
We both spin at the cold, tightly controlled voice. Duskbane lowers his head to enter the cell, raising the tray in his hands. “Dinner. Thought you might be hungry.”
He doesn’t look at me at all. Only at Eres, the two of them watching each other for a long moment that feels like something I have no part of. Duskbane sets the tray down on the small table with a clatter. “I’ll be at the door.”
“Kae—”
The sound of retreating footsteps is the only response. With a sigh, Eres waves a hand. “Go ahead and eat. You must be hungry.”
He moves to leave, only to turn back. “I’ll be back.”
I only nod. He vanishes after Kaelen, and I hear the hushed tones of an argument from the stairs. Despite my attempts, I can’t hear the exact words, so I tear into the bread instead, dipping it into some sort of vegetable broth and following up with some of the thinly-sliced, salted meat.
I leave half for Eres. After forcing myself to stop looking at the door, I crawl into the cot and face the wall, playing with the ends of my still-damp hair.
He’s coming back.
He said he would be back.
Get a hold of yourself, Lyra.