Chapter 10 #2
Alva only nodded, her expression soft with something I didn’t have the strength to name. “I know.” That was enough.
She told me her idea. That she’d try the spell with a barrier between us—gloves, a sheet, something to let me shield and her try to heal without fear of my magic pulling hers in. I’d been terrified, but I agreed.
I lay back on the bed with a thin sheet drawn over me. Alva laid her hands on my lower stomach, her voice low and soothing. “Relax. Hold your magic close. Do not let it reach.”
So, I closed my eyes. I felt the pulse of my magic, and the familiar Thread of Lowan’s wound through it. Together they spiraled, bright and alive. I clutched them tight, held them in, whispering silently to myself: stay, stay, stay. I heard Lowan’s words again: “You’re in control.”
When Alva’s power brushed against me, I braced—but nothing broke loose. Nothing snapped. I kept the Threads steady, contained, and then warmth bloomed in my belly. A flare that spread outward until it filled my whole body.
“It’s done,” Alva said.
My eyes flew open. “It is?”
She smiled, relief softening her features. “You did beautifully. I trusted your hold, and it worked. I could even move the sheet to ensure I performed it accurately. It’s finished.”
Relief hit me so hard I laughed, dizzy and giddy.
No more cycles. No more fear of being torn down in the middle of a journey.
I could breathe again. But then, a thought nagged at me.
I pulled my clothes back into place, trying to sound casual.
“You mentioned before that everyone here does this—male and female alike.”
“Yes,” she said easily. “Most who come to me request it. It’s reversible, of course, but until someone chooses otherwise, it keeps them free. To live as they please. To love as they please.”
“Right,” I said, stalling, trying to sound conversational. My fingers fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “So… even Lowan?”
Her lips curved, just barely. “Yes. Even Lowan.” The warmth that had settled in my belly twisted into something entirely different.
The steady rhythm of the ride lulls me into thoughts I’ve tried to keep buried. Abigail and Trevor—do they miss me? Have they realized I’m gone? Are there posters plastered all over campus with my face on them? Are they scared?
For one fleeting second, I almost smile, imagining Mason stumbling across one of those posters. His golden-boy smirk wiped clean. The thought makes me chuckle under my breath. But then nerves creep back in. What’s coming? What am I heading toward?
Before I can spiral, Selene abruptly halts her pale mare. Her posture changes—head tilting toward the dusky sky, eyes closed as if listening to something none of us can hear. She lifts one hand, palm up, like she’s balancing an invisible weight.
Without a word, she slips off her horse.
Zillah’s eyes track her every move, sharp and watchful, but Selene only crosses to a nearby tree.
She lays her hand on the bark, tattoo gleaming against her dark skin, against the darkness of the wood.
She draws a long, quiet breath, then crouches to scoop a handful of earth.
Crumbling it between her fingers, she lets it sift back to the ground, her white braids shifting with the movement.
Finally, she turns. “We’ll camp here. There’s water just beyond, that way.” She points into the trees. I glance around, dubious, but everyone else nods like it’s gospel. “You heard her,” Zillah mutters, already swinging down from her stallion. Selene’s word is law, apparently.
Lowan dismounts and helps me down with one steady hand, then calls across, “Safe for a fire?”
“Yes,” Selene answers, already loosening her horse’s tack. “But we’ll still keep watch.”
“Of course,” he says, striding off to start on camp.
I linger, suddenly realizing something obvious and horrifying: we’re camping, which means sleeping arrangements. Which means…
“What’s the plan for sleeping?” I ask, trying not to sound panicked.
Zillah shoots me a look. “Don’t worry. We have tents.”
Relief floods me. “Good. Where’s mine? I’ll set it up.”
She points. “That one.”
I follow her gesture, only to see Lowan already driving stakes into the ground.
“What? No, that’s his. Where’s mine?”
Zillah just waggles her eyebrows.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Dead serious.” She smirks and strolls off to help Selene.
I round on Lowan, fuming. “Sharing a tent? Really?”
He doesn’t even look up from tying a line.
“We’re traveling light. Minimum supplies.
You’re not coming back with us, so we’re not hauling extra weight to leave it behind.
” He straightens, meeting my glare with maddening calm.
“We’ll alternate watches if it bothers you that much.
But if we’re both in the tent, the only thing on my mind will be sleep. ”
From across the clearing, Zillah pipes up, “Not me.” Selene giggles, musically and unhelpfully.
Lowan exhales hard through his nose. “Be thankful you’re not with them,” he mutters. I fold my arms tight across my chest, cheeks burning, and wonder if two weeks of this journey might actually kill me.
By the time the fire crackles to life, my body aches in places I didn’t know could ache.
We’ve washed at the stream, filled our skins, and Selene vanishes into the woods with her bow like some silent wraith.
She comes back with a bird, and we roast it crisp over the flames, along with a handful of berries and knobby roots she insists are edible.
She’s right—the meal is simple but filling, and we barely touch the rations in our packs.
For the first time all day, I feel almost human again.
“Tomorrow,” Selene says quietly, her voice lilting in the firelight, “we’ll travel about an hour more. Then we’ll be off Veynar lands, though still in the Knollwood.”
I freeze. “That far?”
Zillah glances up. “What do you mean?”
I pick at the roasted meat in my hands. “Alva said that you found me just over the edge of your land, narrowly across the border. But we’ve been riding for hours. I didn’t realize I was that far away.”
Beside me, I feel Lowan go utterly still. I glance at him. “You patrol that far? On foot?”
He doesn’t look at me, only jabs a stick into the fire, expression unreadable. “I do what I need to do. To keep everyone safe.”
I study him, the way the flames gild his profile, the determined set of his jaw. “You carried me back? All that way.”
Finally, he lifts his eyes, silver catching firelight. “Did you really think I’d leave you out there?” His voice is low, rough. “Out here?”
The silence stretches, heat crackling between us thicker than the fire. My breath hitches, words lost. Then Zillah breaks it, her tone wickedly playful. “Well, if you two want to keep staring into each other’s souls, Selene and I will go on ahead to the tent.”
Selene’s quiet laugh joins hers as they rise. Lowan doesn’t flinch, only mutters, “Fine. Just make sure everyone’s clothed when I wake you for watch. I’ve no interest in stumbling across my sister and her lover tangled up like animals.”
Zillah tosses him a grin over her shoulder. “Then call out with your eyes closed, brother.”
And just like that, they vanish into the shadows, leaving Lowan and me alone by the fire, the air humming with things unsaid.
After they disappear into the dark, I smile. Their obvious affection is infectious. I glance at Lowan. “Zillah’s like a little kid in a candy shop with Selene.”
His brow furrows. “A what?”
I laugh softly. “It just means—she’s so intimidating most of the time, but when Selene’s around, she’s different. Warm. Approachable. Just a young girl in love.”
He considers this, his expression softening. “Yes. It has always been that way for them. From the moment they met.”
I can’t help but smile again. “Well, I think that’s wonderful. I’m happy for them.”
A shadow of wistfulness crosses his face. “As am I.”
I cut my eyes toward him, teasing. “Really? Because you’re always giving them such a hard time about not being able to keep their hands off each other. I assumed you weren’t the lovey-dovey type.”
This time, he really looks at me. Silver eyes steady, cutting straight through. His voice is quiet, almost rough. “I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t want to find that kind of love.”
The words land like an arrow. I sit stunned, throat tight, because I’ve never heard him sound like this. Then he looks back at the fire, his wall snapping back into place. “I’ll take first watch. Get some rest.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
I slip into the tent, unrolling my blankets. There’s enough space for two, I realize, but only just. Not pressed flush against each other—but close. Closer than I’ve ever been to anyone like him.
I lie down, staring at the canvas overhead, his words echoing in my head.
That kind of love. His mother told me once that she and his father were Threadbound.
I don’t even know what that really means, but clearly Lowan does.
He knows what it looks like. Maybe he even longs for it. And what about me?
My father was never there. My mother did her best, but love was always survival. Mason? Mason was a cruel joke I played on myself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen genuine love up close. I don’t even know what it should feel like.
The thought gnaws at me as my eyes drift shut.
Maybe that’s the most dangerous thing of all—that I have nothing to measure my heart against. Sleep refuses to come.
I roll over, twist in the blankets, but every time I close my eyes, I hear his voice again.
I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t want to find that kind of love.
And maybe I’m imagining it, but from across the camp there are…
sounds. Not loud, not obscene, but unmistakable.
The soft rhythm of breath, the faintest catch of laughter.
Selene and Zillah are having a far better night than I am.
I smother my face in the blanket and groan.
Gods, if I can hear them, then Lowan definitely can.
No wonder he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Which means he’s probably desperate for a distraction. And I can’t sleep anyway.
I slip out of the blankets, tug on my cloak and boots, and push out into the night.
The fire still burns, low and steady. I expect to see him there, rigid and stoic, pretending he isn’t listening to his sister’s undeniable happiness.
I even rehearse the words I’ll say. ‘So, about that Threadbound thing your mom mentioned…’ But the fire is empty.
I freeze. He’s supposed to be on watch. He should be right here. Someone has tended the fire, adding fresh wood, so the embers glow strongly. No sign of a struggle, no sense of danger. Just… no Lowan.
Maybe he stepped into the trees for a moment. To relieve himself. To think. To… anything. I wait—a minute, then another. The forest hums quietly around me—still no sign of him. Finally, I sigh, tugging my cloak tighter. Fine. It’ll be my turn to watch soon. I need sleep more than answers.
I slip back into the tent, curl into the narrow space that smells faintly of leather and smoke, and finally—finally—exhaustion drags me under.