17. Raea
Raea
Freshly bathed and fueled by the healers' tonic, I head for Ryker’s rooms. He isn't there, but I don't need a map to find him. The Aethermark Bond is a thrum under my skin, pulling me toward the library. I used to resent this connection. Now, it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
I look both directions before crossing the hall into the study, where the strongest pull comes from. I slip inside, closing the door behind me. He’s alone and gods, he looks good. Or is that my hormones?
He looks up and grins. He’s got the book in his hand.
The one about the prophecy. He must have taken it with him when he slipped out of bed this morning.
He had kissed me once, telling me to go back to sleep.
I guess he had the same idea. I make my way across the room, tossing out any sense of self-preservation as I throw my arms around his body and kiss him.
Somewhere, distantly, my nerves are going crazy, but I need to tell him.
“I’m not complaining, but what did I do to deserve this?” he asks against my lips.
“I love you,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “I love you, and I have wanted to tell you so many times. I had this grand idea to tell you on your birthday and—”
He stops my rambling with another deep kiss, bringing my body flush with his, the book pressing into my back. I feel high on life. I didn’t realize how much I needed to tell him. I never want to stop saying it.
I tug him closer, making him stumble.
His chuckle is deep and a little raspy, and I feel it all over my body.
The book drops to the floor, making me cringe thinking about it falling apart, but he recaptures my attention as he cups my face in both hands, deepening the kiss so that his tongue glides softly against mine, a dance of tongues and lips and smiles.
I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer because I need him. I want to feel completely lost in him.
“Raea,” he says, bringing his hands up to mine and pulling them back. “I think you’ll want to read this.”
I nod, biting down on my lip. I listen to what he’s saying, but my eyes are on his lips.
He hesitates, then says, “Okay, fuck that, read later.” His lips crash back onto mine as he spins me, pinning me to the shelf behind me. I arch into him, needing friction when his hands wrap around my thighs, lifting me.
“My parents want me to Bond in six weeks,” I say, gasping for air. I need to breathe, but I need his lips on me more.
He smiles as his lips move across my jaw. His hand tilts my chin, allowing him access to my neck. “Mmm…yes. And then you’ll be mine.”
I drop my head back as his mouth moves over sensitive spots, dragging his teeth along the way, sending shivers down my spine. “I am yours.”
“Semantics, love.”
I’m wearing a low-cut gown with no corset.
It’s just fabric separating my breasts from his mouth.
He notices and groans appreciatively, sending a fresh wave of heat south that has me squeezing my thighs together.
His lips trail kisses along the hem of my dress, using one hand to tug it lower.
The swell of my breast is exposed to him when we hear voices.
He stiffens and groans before standing straight. He sets me down and adjusts my gown as the door opens. He bends down to get the book while I hide my flushed face.
“Hey,” Ciara says with a lifted brow as she glances between us both, stepping in with Kellan behind her. “We’ve been looking for you. Your father said you might be up here.”
She crosses the room as Ryker stands, winking at me with a devilish smirk that brings out his dimple. Gods, he will be the death of me.
I push away all the feelings of lust and turn toward her. “Sorry. I just got here, actually. Ryker found something,” I say, adjusting my gown and hair.
Ciara looks between us again and hides the smile forming on her lips. “Okay. What did you find?”
Kellan steps closer, reaching for me. It feels weird, and I see the sudden tick in Ryker’s jaw as he tries to ignore Kellan.
I give Kellan a stiff hug before we all take a seat at the table. Ryker next to me and Kellan across from me, Ciara next to him. I clear my throat and focus on the pages Ryker is flipping through. He lands on a page with a drawing of golden eyes.
I pull the book closer. “What does it say? You’re better at Elvisiah.”
Ryker nods.
I have some burning questions for Astor, the god of wisdom and knowledge, right about now.
“It says that once the Aethermark Bond is acknowledged, there is a short window before the Bond needs to be completed. If ignored, both start experiencing physical pain.” He gives me a knowing look that makes my blood sing.
“In this instance, since the book is about the prophecy, one can assume this next part is for you. The empress, which is you—” His eyes twinkle with amusement. “—will be consumed by creation’s first magic as her soul cries out for her mate.”
I slip my hand over Ryker’s knee, needing to touch him, feel him, remind myself he’s really here.
“We aren't just suffering from distance, Raea. We're starving. The Aethermark is a living thing, and without the ritual, it will eventually start feeding on us to stay alive the longer we are apart. We don't have six weeks.”
The way he is looking at me makes me shift in my seat.
“Will she die?” Kellan asks, concern lacing his voice.
“No,” Ryker responds. “She will just spend more and more time in pain until the Bond is complete. It says she must go through the whole trial, ensuring the runes are completed.” His voice tapers off as he glances at me again.
“Raea, the mating Bond trials we were told about…they can’t be completed until the lifeforce is restored.
” He frowns. “We have to find a way to get to Auralan.”
“But how?”
He rises and moves toward my father’s study to retrieve something.
“What are you looking for?” Ciara asks, getting up to help him.
Kellan’s fingers find mine, and for a second, I let him hold on. Behind me, I feel Ryker’s energy shift—not into a flare of heat, but a sense of loss. He isn't jealous. He's mourning the best friend I'm about to lose.
He’s sad…for me.
“Are you okay?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“No, not really.” He sighs. “Can we talk?”
I look back at Ciara and Ryker. “Yes. After. Why don’t we meet at the fountain?”
He nods and keeps my hand in his, refusing to let go when I try to pull away. Ciara and Ryker return, but Ryker doesn’t say anything. He sets the book on the table, with a look of boredom masking his emotions, before his hand settles on my thigh. He squeezes before he starts talking again.
“You brought the books?” I ask, looking at the Book of Beginnings.
He nods. “And the scrolls. I thought Elison would want to study them.”
I can’t help but smile. Amid the chaos and travel, he’s always prepared, always thinking ahead.
He opens the book as if it’s already been tabbed, but when he shares a glance with me, I know the magic built into the book opens it as if sensing what we need. A chill skirts up my spine.
Ryker clears his throat and reads, “Canticle III: The Aethermark.”
“Before word was given form, before starfire kissed the sky, a force of creation itself—the Mark.
It was not forged by hand nor willed into being. No god carved it, no council decreed it. It is the oldest law, woven into the marrow of creation itself—a Bond written not in ink or blood or magic, but in the language of the soul—a thread of breath and bone.
When two are born whose essence is aligned in perfect harmony—whose hearts beat not beside, but within one another—the Aethermark stirs.
It binds what was once separate, tethering soul to soul across ages and endings.
Through it, their power flows as a single river, one source—each drawing from the wellspring of the other, each strengthened beyond measure by what they share.
The gods may only bear witness, but do not intervene. The stars illuminate but do not guide. For the Aethermark is beyond all dominion—an inevitability that even the universe cannot command.
Few have ever borne its weight or known its power. Across millennia, their names are echoes—half-remembered, half-believed—yet each has shaped what is to become.
And so it is written: when the Aethermark appears again, when the runes bind the souls, it will herald the turning of an age and the birth of a new dawn.
It will awaken what slumbers, unite what was broken, and summon forth a power that neither time, nor shadow, nor god can unmake.
With this Mark, the divine may only watch what creation itself has set in motion. ”
The words hit me like a physical blow. The Lumos Bond was a battery for the Veil—a requirement. But this? The Aethermark is an inevitability. It means even if the gods had never intervened, even if the Veil had never been forged, Ryker and I would still be standing here, destined to collide.
An unnatural chill settles within me, as if the magic is testing me as I lay my finger upon the script and read, “Carved upon the Stone of Celyrion, beneath the roots of the Elderwood—a fragment of the Lost Prophecy, sealed and guarded by the Elven for five thousand years.”
“What does that mean?” Ciara asks, looking between the two of us.
I glance at Ryker and find him already studying me. “I think it means that Ryker and I are perfect for each other in every way. Even the gods couldn’t have ordained our match.” I swallow the emotions threatening to spill over as warmth replaces the chill, as if the magic approves of my realization.
It’s a strange thing to be a part of something so big, so cosmic that even the gods couldn’t have changed it or chosen someone else.
It’s why, since I first recognized our Bond, everyone else has faded away into irrelevance.
The Lumos Bond has never held any true power, especially not against something born of creation.