Chapter 14
ALARYK
“You’ll need to learn how to better control your ability,” I told her as we made our way to the landing field. “I can help you with that.”
“Who knew a Karath could be so generous?” Amaia muttered back.
I barely suppressed an amused smirk. She was a cantankerous little Dakkari.
Then, after a long moment of quiet, the only sound the crunch of our boots as we walked the gravel pathway, she asked, “How would you help me if you’ve promised not to use your magic? ”
“I promised not to use it on you, not that I wouldn’t use it at all. There’s a difference between using it and bonding it,” I informed her. “I used it that night. To take some of the pain from you and Samryn.”
She absorbed the words. Grymia had been quiet, most people asleep at this hour, except for the night watch, who were posted at the towers.
Once the Karag and their bonded Elthika could travel and live in the Arsadia safely.
But over the last few decades, with the heartstone magic depleting from the land, the wild Elthika had grown more… restless.
Villages had been attacked, livestock slaughtered. It was rare, but it still happened. And so every night, the watch continued. A necessary precaution.
“I remember,” Amaia said. “I think I do, at least. I remember the pain lessening. I felt like I could breathe again.”
Samryn was waiting on the landing field, having felt my tug on our bond.
My Elthika regarded Amaia with slitted eyes as she approached.
“Good evening, friend,” she said quietly. “How are you?”
As if he understood, he let out a huff of derision at the question. He jerked his head away when the Dakkari tried to press her fingers into his jaw. To Amaia’s credit, her lips only twisted in wry amusement, not offense.
“He dislikes everyone,” I informed her. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Then however did you claim him?”
I ignored the subtle dig. “With my charm, I suppose.” I grinned, but it felt more like a baring of my teeth. “And because I wasn’t leaving the illa’rosh without him.”
Amaia swallowed. I swore I caught an edge of a smile. Then she looked back at Samryn, her expression going quizzical. “You want to do this here?” she asked. “But what if someone sees?”
I reached out my hand to press against Samryn’s side, and he lowered his wing, the membrane stretched over bone making a creaking sound as it shifted.
“Heartstone magic isn’t persecuted here, Amaia.” Though I thought it might still be wise to stay hidden. “We’ll go into the forest. We won’t be disturbed there.”
She nodded. Whatever fears she had about using her own ability would need to be quelled—and soon. It was horrendous what the Dakkari had done to their own people in search of power. But the Karag were not the same. Or even the Hartans, for that matter.
Amaia ascended up Samryn’s wing, though the Elthika let out a low growl when she did, as if he couldn’t help himself.
“Enough,” I murmured quietly to Samryn, chastising him through the bond. He responded with an ice-cold flood of annoyance, but the growling ceased. I followed after Amaia, who sat uncertain in the riding seat.
“Like this?” she asked, peering up at me. For a moment, I had a strange feeling as I looked down at her, where I was still standing at the joint of Samryn’s wing.
The moonlight reflected in her eyes, which flickered back and forth between my own. Her wavy hair was pulled back into a messy plait, though tendrils had escaped. Her lips were pursed, resembling a small pout, as she peered up at me, awaiting my instruction.
I swallowed, huffing out a rough breath.
Not her, I decided firmly. Even if she was beautiful.
“Lean forward,” I ordered. “Yes, like that.”
I swung over, tucking into place behind her, with her seated between my thighs. I had no use for tethers when it came to my Elthika—with our bond they were unnecessary, so I only bracketed my arms around Amaia, gripping onto the handle at the front of the mount, pressing low over her back.
“Hang on,” I murmured, her heat seeping through my clothing as I sent the command through the bond. She smelled good, like spiced soap.
The energy rippled through Samryn’s body, and then he was launching into the air, the mighty gust of his wings drowning out Amaia’s gasps. The ascent was rougher than it needed to be, and I gritted my teeth, knowing he’d done it on purpose.
When he leveled out, Amaia was trembling.
“Riding with a Vyrin,” I told her, “is much different than the transport you took here, yes?”
“Y-Yes,” came her breathless reply.
My lips curled as I looked out over the Arsadia. Bright stars peppering a cloudless sky, illuminating towering mountains, which billowed out to deep valleys and lakes in the lower region, closest to the coast.
In the far distance, I spied a formation of wild Elthika, making their way north.
“It’s beautiful,” Amaia said when she’d finally caught her breath and dared to chance a peek up.
“How does it compare to your Dakkar?” I asked curiously, wondering what she might say. I’d flown over her land. I hadn’t been impressed, though it had reminded me of Harta, in its own way.
“I…I don’t know,” she replied. She looked over her shoulder to look at me. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wild in worry but also in excitement. She liked this. “I’ve never stepped foot outside of Dothik.”
“What on Muron’s blood possessed you to come here, then?” I asked, frowning.
“This,” she replied, as if it were obvious. But she didn’t gesture to the magnificence of the Arsadia. Instead she risked releasing her grip on the side of the mount to pat Samryn’s side. “Them.”
I thought I understood, but it still surprised me to know she’d stayed in one place her whole life.
Even when I’d been a boy in Harta, we’d moved around a lot.
It had taught me how to adapt. I’d assumed that Amaia had had a similar experience, considering how easily she’d assimilated into the Grymia horde.
Samryn dipped suddenly, descending fast, making Amaia’s breath catch in a silent scream. He was heading for a lake, not in the forest surrounding our territory but a stone’s throw outside of its boundaries.
He landed roughly, nearly knocking the breath out of my own lungs and sending a sharp reverberation up my spine and through the backs of my legs. I let a growl of my own out, one of displeasure.
“Ty’bara ellrash,” I muttered. Hartan for stubborn creature.
Amaia was breathing hard, trying to suck in air.
“All right?” I asked Amaia, lifting off of her.
“Yes, I think so,” she wheezed out. I helped her stand, and Samryn had the good sense to lower his wing without hesitation so she could descend, likely due to the flood of biting annoyance I sent rippling through the bond. He knew he was riding the edge of my patience.
When I followed after her, I went to him. “Do that again, and she might not help you. She might not help us,” I warned quietly. A hot stream of breath escaped his nostrils.
Amaia was staring at the shimmering lake, one that stretched so wide it looked like an ocean. But I could just make out the tree line on the opposite shore, dark, tall shadows against the night sky.
When I approached her, impatient to begin, she glanced over at me before gesturing to the lake. “Have you ever seen something so beautiful that it just doesn’t seem real?”
I peered at the lake, then flicked my gaze back to hers.
“No,” I said, answering her question. “A lake impresses you more than the view of the Arsadia?”
“I’ve seen mountains before. I’ve never seen a lake. Only the edge of Drukkar’s Sea. But I’ve never even stood upon its shore.” She met my eyes. “Are you so used to being surrounded by beautiful things that you don’t notice them anymore?”
Her question surprised me. It made me still, made a strange snap of irritation whip down my spine. Once I had been surrounded by muck and squalor, my mother so poor that we’d lived inside a hollowed-out tree on the edge of a Hartan village.
A half-blood, desolate Hartan boy like me? He would’ve never dreamed of being a Karath who had claimed a Vyrin.
You don’t know anything about me, I wanted to say. Only it sounded like a petulant child’s words, even to my own ears.
“Are you ready?” I asked instead, deciding it wiser to ignore the question.
She gave the lake one last lingering look as I studied her with a furrowed brow.
The urge to use my magic on her, to sink it into her and uncover what she was truly thinking, surprised me.
I’d only ever used my ability for a specific purpose.
To protect, which sometimes meant edging toward the borders of my own morality.
Now that I wasn’t allowed to use it on her, the urge to do so grew ever stronger. A temptation I could no longer satisfy, which made me hunger for it all the more.
I was always a greedy bastard.
“How would you like to do this?” she asked, but I couldn’t tell if she was speaking to me or Samryn. She approached my Elthika, stilling in front of his wide jaws, which could snap her cleanly in two. The slit of his pupils narrowed on her.
Following, I said, “Just like last time. I’ll use my magic to bond to yours, to give you time. I don’t know how yours works, but I might have a better understanding if we take it slowly.”
“I don’t know how it works either,” she admitted. “It’s just a connection. It comes naturally. I always imagine it’s like an entrance into something. I might not know what I’ll find, but I’m still willing to cross the threshold.”
“Then when you feel my interference,” I told her, “think of my power like a pillar. Something to ground you, something to rest upon if you need the reprieve.”
She darted a quick look over at me, surprise evident in her expression.
“You understand?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said quietly, swallowing hard. I realized she was nervous. Her face had gone a little ashen, her throat bobbing.
I didn’t know why that bothered me so much, but I was too selfish to give her an out. This was about Samryn. I would never turn away an opportunity to help him, no matter what. Even if the obvious fear in this Dakkari girl made my stomach turn.
I also couldn’t understand why she was doing this. No one was this altruistic, were they? Or was I so jaded that I couldn’t see why someone would resign themselves to suffering in return for nothing?
Though I had my suspicions, I still intended to use her, as much as she’d willingly let me. And then…if there came a point of her refusal, what would I do?
If there was a chance to save Samryn…I didn’t think there were any lengths I wouldn’t go to, even to corrupt my own morals. My own promises.
I could make her do it. That was the ugly truth.
“Let’s begin,” I said, my voice gruff from my thoughts. “Ready?”
She nodded with hesitation. “As I’ll ever be.”