Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“Malakai?” I whispered. Hope budded inside me, like a flame threatening to fade into embers. He turned, an easy smile—that smile that made the stars seem dim—already on his face.
“Ophelia.” My name fell off his tongue as if he had been expecting me. It was full of pleasure and promises, but none of the utter disbelief that tumbled through my heart.
With long strides, he crossed the space between us, and as his boots swept over crumbling rock, I noticed where we were—or where we weren’t.
Every inch of our surroundings was dark, like a veil had been dropped, leaving one small ring of illumination around us.
Shadowed outlines wavered in the distance, but of buildings or nature or people, I couldn’t be sure.
Malakai stopped feet from me, and I wanted to close that gap between us desperately, but something prevented me.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Malakai shrugged. “Perhaps nowhere.” His voice echoed with chilling power, the eerie undertone of his words and the spark in his eyes unsettling.
“How can we be nowhere?”
“Or maybe it’s everywhere.” He tilted his head, the dim light outlining the lines of his jaw and nose.
The undertone of his words was familiar, and I wracked my brain for the vague connection. It came to me slowly, hazily, as if from a distance: It is about everything that will be nothing if you do not act. But how could Malakai know the Angel’s words?
“Malakai, what—” I stepped toward him but was thrown backward. A barrier had sprung up between us.
“It is all right, Phel.” That smile that had once been my favorite moment of every day turned haunting. “It has to be this way.”
“What has to? What’s going on?” I beat my fists against the invisible wall. Each bruising hit rocked through my body, shaking my bones. It hurt deeper than that though—it hurt in my heart and soul. The Bind burned fiercely, and my heart sped with it.
“Malakai!” I screeched, but his name bounced off the barrier and swarmed around me, my own voice a taunting echo of what I could not have. We were in the same place, but we were not. My breathing turned into hysterical gasps as I planted my palms against the wall.
Malakai mimicked the movement, and I could almost feel his touch.
Skin on skin, searing everywhere it would have connected.
I imagined the warmth of his strong fingers lacing through mine.
How his rough palm would feel pressed against my own, dragging down my body.
His feather-soft kiss if he were to lift my hand to his lips.
I wanted that—needed that. The fated connection we had built through years of childhood friendship that eventually budded into the innocence of young love.
One so powerful that we’d tied our souls together for eternity.
Frantically, I searched his forest eyes for a sign of how he felt. His lips parted as little puffs of breath escaped in time with the gentle heaving of his chest, like he shared the desperation I felt.
But his wide eyes buzzed with an electric excitement. I realized it wasn’t desperation from him—it was eagerness. One I did not understand. He gave me a knowing smile that spoke of secrets, and it twisted my heart.
“What do you want me to do?” The sound echoed around me.
His lips moved in what I assumed was encouragement, but I couldn’t hear his words.
A tugging sensation wrapped around my waist. It pulled me backward—inch by painful inch as the Bind burned.
“NO!” I struggled against it, flinging my body forward. Carnal need and a refusal to believe drove me toward my North Star. A cursed instinct told me that if I did not fight, I would never again lose myself in his intoxicating presence.
Malakai’s expression didn’t falter, though.
He watched me be pulled away with that same look of eager awe dashing through his eyes, an understanding smile puncturing his cheeks.
He nodded as if to say it was okay, the bob of his head drawing his long hair into his eyes.
I watched the swish of his dark bangs as if in slow motion, until the tugging against my gut was so forceful, I couldn’t resist.
I shouted the only thing I could think to say, “I love you.”
And I saw his lips form five words in response, Until the stars stop shining.
Then, I tumbled back, head over heels and into darkness with Malakai’s green eyes burning an imprint in my mind.
I stumbled as the tugging sensation swooped through my gut.
I couldn’t see anything, but a series of sharp clicks met my ears, each one growing louder.
A rattle joined them, more subtle than the clicks, but never ceasing.
My teeth dug into my lip as I spun around, searching for the source, but only cold, dark air surrounded me.
The noises felt foreign, like they did not belong in this dream I was floating through.
I realized with a jolt—it was because they were real.
Cool night air kissed my sweat-damp skin and the stars shone down on me as I rocketed upward, back to the real world. And to the herd of small rodents tearing through our rations of food.
“Get away!” I growled, pushing myself to my feet, Starfire already in my grasp.
My shouts roused the others, and together we chased off the remaining creatures. When the last had fled into the brush, the five of us stood looking over our ruined sustenance.
“They ate it all.” Jezebel dropped to her knees to sort through the crumbs left behind. “Every bit of dried fruit and meat. The bread and cheese, too.”
“We’ll find more,” Cypherion comforted.
“We better—quickly,” Jezebel snapped. Stepping between my sister and a meal was a quick way to find yourself with a blade at your neck. I touched Cyph’s shoulder, shaking my head to tell him to step away.
“First opportunity we get,” I swore. My head felt foggy, thoughts muddled as an ache spread throughout my skull. Two days. We’d only been out here for two days, and already our food was gone.
Jezebel extended a hand to gather up the remains, but I grabbed her wrist. “Careful, sister. The woodland creatures are typically friendly. If these were not, we don’t know what contamination they may carry.
” I hated being distrustful of the animals whose land we roamed, but between the attack last night and now this, it was clear that something was off.
“In fact, I think it would be wise to avoid them and their food sources as much as possible.”
“You fear they may be contaminated?” Cypherion tilted his head as he observed the wreckage.
I nodded, kicking dirt over our ruined food pile. “The magic of the mountains provides for the animals of our land. They never take from travelers.”
“But what will we eat?” Jezebel whimpered behind me.
“Perhaps they were hungry, Ophelia,” Tolek challenged, rubbing a hand across his jaw and stifling a yawn. His eyes were still half-hazy with sleep, and his hair was pushed up on one side.
I swept my gaze across the trees, into the darkened spaces between the trunks. Remnants of my dream still floated through my mind, and I struggled to determine what was reality. Hallucinations were a symptom of the Curse—perhaps mine were only beginning. A shiver trickled down my spine.
Almost certain I could see slitted yellow eyes staring back at me, I gripped my sword tighter, but I blinked and they were gone. The forest felt like a menagerie of secrets and threats, not the promise of freedom I’d expected.
“The balance of power,” I whispered.
“What of it?” Tolek asked.
Jezebel’s stomach grumbled. “Oh, wonderful,” she muttered to Santorina.
“For the sake of the Angels, Jezebel, will you be quiet for a moment.” I clenched my eyes against the pain in my head, ignoring her muttered apology, and turned back to Cyph and Tol. “All natural-born creatures of the forests and plains should be peaceful. So why are they not?”
On Ambrisk, animals born of magic were loyal to the God of Mythical Beings, but it was a reciprocal relationship in which the god ensured their protection and health.
In turn, the creatures were docile unless provoked.
It had been such for the many millennia since some ancient being had shaped our world out of the effervescent dust of blooming stars and darkness.
“For rodents to scour our rations, something must be very wrong.” Cypherion’s voice dropped as if the words were hard to admit.
I twisted my lips to the side, brows scrunching together as I tried to decipher what could be the cause of this unnatural behavior. My dream—hallucination, whatever it may be—echoed in my mind, and I wondered how it all fit together.
“We should be approaching a stream soon,” Cypherion panted from atop Erini.
“Can we discuss anything besides the lack of food and water?” Jezebel snapped from ahead. I glowered at her, but her eyes were on the horizon, in the direction of the mountains.
Crisp air filtered through my dry, cracking throat as Sapphire trudged along beneath me.
My body ached from riding for so many hours in the day, legs and spine demanding reprieve, but we could not break until dusk.
The reins slipped about in my sweaty, trembling hands, and I fought to steady myself.
In the two days that had passed since the incident with the rodents, food and water sources had become scarce.
I was fearful of sharing the animals’ food sources, not knowing where their taint was rooted, and we were reluctant to hunt.
It was considered a bad omen to slay fellow mystical creatures.
We had yet to come across any wild game that we were certain would be safe, but we were nearing the Solistine River each hour.
We had kept to small portions of fruits, inspecting everything closely and praying to the Spirits that we would survive.
Soon, though, both us and our horses would need stronger sources of nourishment.