Chapter 16 #2
“Some believe that the early Hartans used to live in these mountains,” I told her.
“That they built cities inside them. Hartans are a mountain people, even today. So when they were banished from the Arsadia by the Elthika, many scholars in Elysom think they made their home northeast of Karak, where Harta lies.”
She peered up at me, her green eyes darting back and forth between my own. “What do you think?” she asked.
“I think it’s a valid theory,” I told her. “Hartans are drawn to mountains. Like Elthika to heartstones. Whereas to the Karag…this place would feel like a tomb.”
“What is it that you prefer?” she questioned curiously.
I bared my teeth in a smile but didn’t answer. Which might have disappointed her, but I changed the subject back to common ground.
“There is at least one heartstone in this mountain,” I informed her. “Likely here. In this very room. Because it’s where the energy is most concentrated. That’s what you feel. Have you ever been near a heartstone?”
She shook her head. “No. There’s one in Dothik, but it’s deep within the Dothikkar’s palace, below ground. The nearest I’ve been was with my face pressed to the gilded gates.”
I thought it a shame that the Dakkari were so stripped of their nourishment. Heartstone magic had seeped into Dakkar, evidenced by the thalara trees, the trees which grew heartstones at the tips of their very roots. The magic had imbedded itself into the earth, the wind, the creatures, the people.
But like the Elthika, if one had heartstone magic, one would forever feel deprived of it if the heartstones all died out. Like a missing limb.
“If you know one is here,” she continued, “why not find it and take it?”
“The Elthika need it more than we do,” I told her. “The mountain too, for that matter. It benefits no one to go looking for it, though many have tried. Tonight it will benefit us.”
“I’m not understanding.”
“When we were both joined with Samryn a couple nights ago,” I said, “you were fighting me. Trying to shake me off like a net you’d gotten tangled in.”
“I…I didn’t mean to,” she confessed. “It was all so overwhelming. It’s new.”
“It would be beneficial if you could get used to my magic. To my touch. So you can recognize it. So you can let me in when I’m trying to help.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “That reminds me…”
There was something in her tone that had me crossing my arms over my chest. “Of what?”
“Syris told me something interesting today,” she started. “That bonds can be created if you join your magic with another’s. Bonds that can be hard to break. When were you going to tell me that?”
My lips pressed, my tight jaw ticking. “It’s an improbable risk,” I told her.
“But a risk nonetheless,” she countered. “One I didn’t know.”
I would give her that.
“Bonds can be broken,” I assured her.
“I don’t even know what that means, Alaryk,” she said, bristling, throwing her hands wide. “I feel like I’m navigating this with half-truths. In darkness. Blind. I’m trusting you to tell me the truth. But how can I trust that you’ll keep me safe when all you care about is your Elthika?”
“It doesn’t benefit me to bond with you, Amaia,” I growled. “I already feel too much. I don’t need someone else under my skin! Believe me, I can control how deep we get before there’s ever a risk of a bond.”
I dragged in a deep breath, taking a step closer to her. When she turned her face away, a scoff on her lips, I cradled her cheeks in my palms, surprising her. I forced her to look at me, keeping my gaze locked with hers, my thumb rubbing against her skin.
“Heartstone magic is unpredictable. You know that. It’s drawn to certain threads of magic, and if it latches, then it will catch. But I think our abilities are so different from one another’s that there’s little risk of it.”
“What does it mean if it does happen, though?” she asked. “That you’ll be inside my head all the time? Like you were?”
Like what I’d promised her I wouldn’t do was what went unspoken.
“Not like that,” I told her, shaking my head.
“I’m bonded to Samryn. Our magic caught and held at the Tharken cliffs during my illa’rosh.
The choosing. It means I can feel him…always.
A constant touch in my mind, until the day either of us dies.
” Her lips parted. “I can feel his emotions. I can give him direction when we fly. I know when he’s in distress, when he calls for me.
The same for him. Right now, I know he’s resting in this very mountain. He’s at peace.
“But there is still agency and decision in what we share across the bond. He hid the depth of his own pain from me. I didn’t realize how much until I was able to feel it through you, Amaia.”
I finally released her, but I didn’t step away.
She swallowed hard, licking her lips, then asked, “And if you are bonded…what happens if…if…”
“If he dies?” I asked, lips twisting. “Part of me dies with him. There will always be an emptiness where the bond once was. I will forever feel it. But it goes for Samryn as well. Only it will be worse. Because he was bonded once before too.”
“He was?” she whispered, compassion lining her face.
“To a rider, two centuries ago. But we are all mortal creatures. The Elthika just live much longer than we do, and so they are cursed with bonds. It’s rare that it happens.
But…I think he knows that if I die before him, it will mean his death too.
Because he might not withstand it again.
He still mourns his last rider. I feel it. ”
Part of me thought he might even view this curse as a mercy. One that took his life before mine had the time to end.
I cleared the tightness in my throat. “So believe me, little mariss—the last thing I want is another bonded.”
“Then why even risk it?” she breathed.
Then realization shrouded her expression, answering her own question. Because of Samryn. She was finally understanding. I was fucked either way.
“Then don’t help me,” she insisted. “Don’t use your magic if there’s a risk of a bond!”
I shook my head. “The curse is too strong for you alone. Especially without direction. Your magic is pure. It’s rare. But you also don’t know how to wield it.”
Her spine stiffened. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own.”
“I don’t doubt that,” I said carefully. Proud little thing, I thought, trying to hide the way my lips quirked. “But can we agree that this curse is much more powerful than anything you’ve encountered before?”
After a long moment, she finally inclined her head. “I’ve never even felt a curse before,” she admitted softly.
“Then let me help you,” I said. “Let me teach you.” When she still hesitated, I continued with, “You know how many recorded bonds have happened in the last two decades? Of all the riders? Of all the wielders of heartstone magic in Karak?”
She waited.
“Three. I’m included in that number,” I said. “Out of thousands. And like I said, bonds can be broken.”
Most, I amended silently. And not without consequence.
“Fine,” she said. But her giving in didn’t fill me with relief. “What do you want me to do?”
“Open up to me,” I told her simply.
“A tall ask,” she breathed, staring up at me with luminous eyes.
I remembered her standing on the plains of Dakkar, outside her city gates, when I’d first come to her.
I remembered thinking she was wild. A puzzle.
Something to be untangled, especially since she’d been able to cut off my magic within her so easily.
“But necessary,” I told her softly.