Five
Zidra
I awoke to pain.
Soft fabric greeted my palms rather than packed dirt. Competing emotions tangled inside me, making my head swim—or perhaps that was the pain. Dark spots danced in my vision, and I sat up with a groan. A figure outlined in an orange glow moved abruptly in front of me. On instinct, I reached for my sword, only to find my scabbard empty.
“Zidra?” The anguished male voice snapped my attention up. Kyrundar stood over me, his eyebrows pushing together like they were attempting to merge into one.
Irritated with his face and unwilling to meet his eyes, I continued searching for my weapon. “Where’s my sword?” My voice emerged hoarse and indecipherable. I cleared my throat. “Where are we? And where is my sword?”
“Uh…oh. I—erm.” He fiddled with an aquamarine on on e of his earrings.
Ignoring a strange surge of embarrassment that Kyrundar should have been feeling, not me, I took in my surroundings. I’d never seen this room before, with its plastered walls, army of candles, and one small bed. A framed embroidery hanging on the wall depicted a crook wreathed in herbs, a symbol of healers.
“You brought me to an infirmary?”
He blinked at me, the fool. “Yes? You were—”
“No!” I grasped my wounded arm. “The people who ambushed me—”
“All dead,” Kyrundar interrupted.
“I need to examine their bodies! There could be an indication of who they were, who sent them, if the informant was a deception this entire time or if they killed whoever contacted me! And did you leave my sword behind?” I waved at him. “But you brought yours, I see!”
He edged back a step. “You almost died. I wasn’t thinking—”
“Obviously!”
“—clearly.” The hurt on Kyrundar’s face must have softened my anger, because regret filtered in.
“I need to go back.” I sucked in a breath through my teeth and clenched the wound on my arm tighter. “Why does this feel like it’s burning and freezing at the same time?”
“That’s to be expected with an ice curse,” a new, unfamiliar voice said.
My chest tightened. “Ice…curse? ”
A squat man wearing the close-fitting blue robes of a senior physician slipped around Kyrundar, a tense expression on his ruddy, freckle-dusted face. “Apprentice Banor told me you were struck by an ice curse.” He peered up at Kyrundar. “And then you used your magic to keep it from reaching her heart, is that correct?”
Kyrundar made some reply to the physician, but my ears were ringing. Ice curse? They’d taught us about those at Harcos. Rare, dangerous ice magic that took a lot of malice, intention, power, and time to refine into highly volatile bolts. When activated, the curse would seek to smother the closest heat source. As a wyveri with dragon heat in my heart, I’d had nightmares for days after that lecture.
“Rengir Eilmaris?”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
“I was saying, I’m Senior Physician Quillan. I’m a fleshmage, so I’ll examine you and see what, if anything, I can do, but I’ve sent for Physician Mirlanwen as well. She’s the ice elf on our staff.”
“Is she a senior physician?” Kyrundar asked, his tone causing dismay to spike in my own chest.
Quillan shook his head. “Ice elves don’t often study here, and those who do mostly return to Glacori.” He held up his forefinger and made a spinning movement. “Would you turn so I can inspect your arm now, Rengir Eilmaris?”
“Oh, right.” Heat suffused my skin. I turned so my right arm was facing Quillan and crossed my legs on the bed. “You may call me Zidra.”
“Thank you, Zidra.” The physician loosened and unwrapped the fabric binding my arm. Only when he set it aside did I recognize the material from Kyrundar’s blue tunic. My gaze cut down to the jagged hem of his clothing, then back up to his face.
The moment our eyes locked, I felt a tug deep in my chest. An odd sensation zinged through me, sending an exhilarating shiver from the top of my head down to my feet; my toes curled in my boots.
Kyrundar’s head jerked back. His ice-blue eyes widened, and a bit of pink overtook his pale complexion.
A stab of pain as Quillan did something to my arm broke the unsettling moment, but then Kyrundar hissed in pain at the same instant I did. Curiosity and confusion rose in my chest, but I could now recognize that those weren’t my feelings—not solely.
They were Kyrundar’s.
My jaw fell open. “Oh. No. What did you do ?”
Quillan hummed and adjusted his hold on my arm. “I only—”
“Not you!” I pointed at Kyrundar. Red tinted my vision. My fangs elongated and my blood heated, and I felt his panic filtering through my emotions. “You used your magic on me. What else did you—”
I cut off with a cry of pain as something cold stabbed at my right arm.
“Zidra!” Quillan cried. “You must control your dragon fire!”
Every breath heaved in my lungs as I glared down Kyrundar .
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t know! I didn’t do anything, Zee.”
I leaped to my feet, ignoring Quillan begging me to calm down. “I was unconscious, so I didn’t do anything, and I don’t want this, so you must have done something!”
Kyrundar winced, and I hated that I could feel how offended and frustrated he was, but he also had no right to be offended. The icy pain in my arm increased, and Kyrundar grabbed his own arm.
“Zidra!” Quillan shoved against my breastplate, but I didn’t budge. “Your dragon fire is burning through Kyrundar’s ice magic, which is holding the ice curse in check. You need to calm down, or you will die!”
That shocked me enough that Quillan was able to force me back onto the bed. I willed myself numb, blocking out my own emotions as well as Kyrundar’s. Quillan lifted my arm and prodded the wound, then sent a surge of human magic into my skin that tingled in a soothing way.
“Rengir Ilifir,” he said, his voice too level. “I need you to block the ice curse again. It’s escaping back into her bloodstream, and my magic does not affect it.”
Kyrundar stepped forward, but I recoiled involuntarily.
“Zidra,” Quillan said softly. He waited until I looked at him to continue. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Kyrundar Ilifir saved your life, and right now, he’s the only one who can save you again.”
All of my wyveri pride rankled at the words. I clenched my fists until my fingers ached.
“Will you consent to him treating your wound? ”
“Fine,” I ground out. “But you better not do anything else.”
“What else could I possibly do?” Kyrundar muttered as he switched places with the physician.
Since I didn’t actually know, I kept my mouth shut. The worst thing that could possibly happen already had, and it wasn’t as if he could make us any more connected than we already were.
Because the emotion sharing, Kyrundar feeling my pain—it could mean only one thing.
Shifters and elves had slightly different magics and so had their own traditions and methods, but both had heartbonds—strong magic that tied a couple together in body, heart, and soul.
“It’s impossible,” I whispered to myself. There were prerequisites to these things. Like marriage, being in love, and Iskyr’s blessing.
Kyrundar placed his hands on either side of my wound. “This might hurt. I’m sorry.”
A new sensation of cold spread into my arm, but this cold wasn’t painful. Kyrundar’s magic caressed my skin like cool silk on a hot day…until it touched the twisted magic of the curse. I bit my tongue to smother a shout, and Kyrundar grimaced. Sweat beaded along his hairline. Bit by excruciating bit, he wrangled the fingers of frost back toward the wound. When he released my arm, we were both shaking.
The moment Kyrundar stepped back, Quillan moved into his spot at my side. After inspecting my arm and doing something else with his soothing fleshmage healing magic, he looked to Kyrundar.
“Outstanding work. That seems even more stable than before.” Quillan turned back to me. “I’m afraid there’s very little I can do. I’ve healed the damage to the surrounding skin and muscle, but closing the wound over the curse would make things worse. For now, I’ll clean and rebandage the puncture. Hopefully Mirlanwen can do more.”
Suddenly exhausted, I barely managed a half-hearted nod. Quillan cleaned my arm with something that stung, then covered the puncture with gauze and neatly wrapped my arm in a white bandage.
“When will Physician Mirlanwen arrive?” Kyrundar asked.
Quillan lifted a shoulder. “She lives a few streets away, but she might not be at home due to all the Dawning Festival celebrations tonight. The apprentice will have to find her and hope she’s in condition to treat a patient.”
Kyrundar’s lips pursed. “I see. Might I have a moment alone with Zidra?”
Quillan bowed his head. “Actually, I was just going to return to bed, unless either of you require any other medical attention.” He indicated Kyrundar’s arm. “You appear to have been wounded yourself.”
“Oh, it’s minor.”
I lowered my gaze to my hands, a little ashamed I’d forgotten Kyrundar had been hurt first. A surge of renewed annoyance followed the thought. If that idiot hadn’t followed me, interfered with my meeting, jumped into a fight without proper armor, gotten himself hurt, and then been on his knees trying to ward off that ice elf’s attack, I wouldn’t have been distracted. Without his distraction, surely this ice curse never would have touched me.
“Still,” Quillan said, “best to be sure, lest any infection set in.” He ushered Kyrundar to the chair in the corner, where he removed the sleeve of Kyrundar’s tunic with a pair of shears, much to the vain elf’s chagrin.
I shook my head, then lay down and closed my eyes, determined to ignore Kyrundar and the binding.
Ignoring the heartbond proved difficult, as I felt a muted stinging in my arm when Quillan cleansed Kyr’s cut, then a tingling sensation as the healer used his fleshmagic to close the wound. Kyr expressed his thanks, and Quillan took his leave.
Before Kyrundar could say anything, I said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That won’t make it go away.”
I waved a hand above me. “This ice elf physician will remove the curse, and then you’ll remove your magic from me, and then whatever this is will go away.”
For a moment, he was silent. Through our unwanted bond, I sensed him sifting through possibilities, as well as a bit of relief.
“I suppose it could be simply because I placed my magic in you,” he said slowly. “I had to channel magic uncomfortably close to your heart to pull back the curse. Then I had to leave some in you… Yes. I don’t know much about how our vastly different magics might interact— ”
“Ours are much more tied to our bodies,” I interjected. Thinking about Kyrundar’s magic traveling through my veins, entangling itself with the dragon fire that allowed me to shift, made me nauseated.
The chair in the corner creaked as Kyrundar moved. “What do you need? Why are you feeling ill?”
I groaned and rolled onto my side so I faced the wall. “Why did you go to the ruins? How did you even know I was there? You know what, unimportant. What matters is that you need to stop doing this!”
“Doing what, exactly? Saving your life?”
“Ruining my life!” I shoved upright and glared at him, unmoved by the shock and hurt coursing through the bond. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this fire-blasted infirmary!”
“Yes, because you’d be dead in the ruins of Grivolen!”
I bit out a disbelieving laugh. “Please. If you hadn’t been there distracting me with your ridiculous craving for glory, I would have been more alert. I would have sensed the trap earlier. I probably wouldn’t have even gone into that cellar, because I would have been alone and able to insist they come out to talk to me. I wouldn’t have been distracted by you getting yourself hurt, and that ice elf couldn’t have tricked me into thinking you were his target. I’d have been more cautious, and I wouldn’t have been struck by that ice curse!”
“Craving for glory?”
“Yes! You’re so afraid I’ll outshine you that you’re constantly following me around! ”
Kyrundar’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?” He shoved to his feet. “You think I help you because I’m intimidated by you?”
“Why else would you show up and insist on aiding me when I never asked? And I know you must be responsible for this ‘Kyrmaris’ nonsense. Tying our names together and insisting yours come first!”
“First of all, Kyrmaris rolls off the tongue the best! Zidifir is ridiculous, Eilifir is too close to Ilifir, and Zirundar is too long—”
I gasped. “I knew it! You insufferable—”
“But I didn’t come up with it! A friend of mine did, but that’s beside the point. I accompany you to help you! Would anyone know about your greatest feats if I weren’t there to see and then tell people about them so the stories spread? We both know you’re not as good at public perception. I mean, take your display at the Ceremony. You almost looked angry to achieve your life’s ambition! Why are you upset with me after I helped you get what you told me you most wanted?”
My mouth fell open. As much as it had hurt to share that moment receiving the Emperor’s Merit with Kyrundar, and as frustrating as it was to believe that he kept following me for his own selfish benefit, this was so much worse. He thought I couldn’t earn the Merit on my own? That he was so much better than me that I wouldn’t get anywhere without him? For a moment I stared at him, and then I leaped off the bed and pointed at the open door.
“I don’t need your help or your pity!” Tears threatened my eyes, but I refused to cry. “Get out! Leave me alone!” I spun around, hating my own weakness.
“Zidra—”
“Go away.” I pressed my eyes closed and willed back the tears. I wanted to shift and either fight him or fly away, but I couldn’t do either. If Quillan was right that my dragon fire destroyed Kyrundar’s barrier, shifting would kill me.
But the shame cracking through my heart might kill me anyway.
Never good enough.
Kyrundar didn’t believe I was capable on my own, and thanks to him and the shared awarding of the Merit to “Kyrmaris,” no one else ever would, either. My parents. My siblings. My clan. The wyveri. The entire empire. Maybe I wasn’t. What if he was right? I’d thought Kyrundar had ruined my chance at standing on the palace steps alone and receiving the Emperor’s Merit, but perhaps if we’d never fought together, I’d have been standing in the crowd with the other rengiri watching Kyrundar receive the Merit.
Everything I had worked for, and it meant nothing . I wasn’t good enough.
“My parents never told me how confusing a heartbond can be,” Kyrundar said quietly. “I know you’re feeling hurt and ashamed and disheartened, but I don’t understand why.”
“Because you’ve always had sea-foam for brains.” I regretted the harsh words the moment they left my lips, and even more so when I felt Kyrundar’s hurt through the bond .
A rapid, distant tapping diverted my attention. I tilted my head, listening. Two pairs of rushed footsteps, and someone breathing heavily.
“I want—”
I held up my hand and faced the door. “Someone is coming.”
If Iskyr blessed me, it would be the apprentice bringing Physician Mirlanwen, and this ice elf healer would get the ice magic and this heartbond out of me.