Chapter 13
Adeluge roared above us, a sky-wide scream I wished I could voice. Earth churned beneath my feet, soft and unsteady. My clothes soaked through, clinging to my skin. Everything was too much, too tight, too loud when all I had been was quiet.
The Skala Mountains tore the clouds open year-round, forcing heavy storms at their base. This was no exception.
But having just emerged from the foothills, we had no shelter. The massive canopy overhead did little to impede the forceful drops. I couldn’t even conjure my light magic to shield me with my wrists trapped in bronze.
At least I’m clean again?
A pathetic consolation for my battered soul.
The Issaraeth extended his power over my head, but it was far too late to save me from anything other than further drenching. “Come closer,” he ordered like I was one of his soldiers.
“No.” I spat the word. Fuck him. He could waste more of his magic if he felt so noble about covering me.
Was it foolish to reject a modicum of relief from the rain? Of course. But he’d taken so much from me already. And this, this was something I could control.
A rumble of frustration rippled out of him. “Look at me.”
I pinned my gaze on the ground, forcing one foot in front of the other as the muck sucked on each boot.
He halted, and so did I, still just outside the reach of his undulating magic. When he spun to face me, my fingers tightened of their own accord, curling into claws.
“Sylaira.” He said my name like a command. I hated it. His hand extended like he was going to touch me, and I flinched away, shoulder rising to protect my face.
“Fucking Goddess,” he swore, raking his fingers through his long hair as he so often did when he was frustrated. Which, apparently, was his default state around me.
But it needed to remain that way. He couldn’t know, couldn’t even capture a hint, that we might be bonded. A male like him would only use it to twist and break me.
And I’d kill myself before I let that happen.
This time, he grabbed my shoulder, drawing me in closer.
“We need to get out of this,” he shouted over the roaring of the storm, adding more power to his canopy. Some of the noise silenced with the extension.
His fingers gripped my chin like he was going to forcibly turn my head.
My lungs seized as I jerked back.
Overhead, clicking cut through the tempest. The Issaraeth glanced up just as my gaze lifted.
The vines constricting my chest eased when a flash of something crystalline circled us.
Ilae.
The auravane, I’d learned, was bonded to the Issaraeth.
Poor creature.
The Issaraeth released me, focus still trained on his bird. “There’s a carved out tree just ahead. We can use the canvas to keep dry too.”
Heart thudding against my ribs, I exhaled a slow, shaky breath. I’d almost shared Ilae’s fate; I’d never been more grateful for a bird in my life. Before my mate could look at me again, I ducked my head.
A heavy sigh escaped the Issaraeth when I still didn’t respond.
He thought my silence was defeat; it was survival. Because if I opened my mouth, I wasn’t certain I could swallow the rage building inside me.
A tug on the rope connected to my bronze shackles had me angling off from the path we’d been walking. Even though the Issaraeth was only paces away, the thick fog blurred his form. How he could see anything in this downpour was beyond me.
Minutes passed, and then a massive, ancient tree emerged from the mist. Its trunk, broad enough that I couldn’t have wrapped my arms around it even if there were ten of me, held an opening wide enough for one person to enter at a time.
The Issaraeth ascended the carved steps, tugging me along behind him.
Inside was blissfully warm and dry, save for where we dripped onto its base.
I shuffled off to one side, focusing on the dozens of rings at my feet, while the Issaraeth pulled out a canvas from his pack and secured it over the opening to keep out further rain.
The seal hushed the torrent, and my ears rang for a moment as they adjusted to the silence.
Boots appeared in my vision. I backed deeper into the tree’s trunk.
“Do you want something dry to wear?” the Issaraeth asked.
I did, more than anything. But I would not don his clothing.
“I’m fine.” The blatant lie rolled off my tongue with ease.
He scoffed, then unslung his bag. It landed on the ground with a thud.
When he crouched to rummage through it, I snapped my attention up.
For a brief moment, I took in the sight of my mate, a scowl etched into his expression.
But before he could feel the weight of my judgment, I continued skyward, peering into the depths of our tree haven.
I was under no illusion it wasn’t also a cage.
The Issaraeth’s hands brushed mine. My skin burned from the contact. I held my breath as he forced something soft between my fingers. “These were in your bag. I’ll turn my back so you can change.”
The rope fell away, as well as the chains binding each cuff together. But the bronze still shackled my wrists, locking down my magic.
When he rose, I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. This was the most obvious I’d ever been about avoiding looking at him. But in this confined space, the risk was too great to play coy.
“Okay,” I replied. I wasn’t going to fucking thank him for holding onto my clothes as he hunted me. Shuffling reached my ears, and I chanced a glance to see if he’d truly kept his word. To my utter shock, he had.
Without hesitating, I tugged at the hem of the tunic and tore it overhead. Unfurling the bunched clothing, I found a thicker pair of pants and a sweater I’d managed to grab in my hasty escape from Ithuriel’s manor. The shoes I’d been wearing were soaked, and it took me a moment to get them off.
The second I peeled off my leggings, the slick floor betrayed me, and I slipped. The Issaraeth’s hand clamped around my arm, steadying me.
He was so, so close. The scent of him—stormwood and smoke—filled my nostrils. A tendril of wet, iron-gray hair hung in my periphery.
I sucked in a sharp breath, focus trained on the largest ring in the trunk. With shaking hands, I stepped into the fresh pants and fastened the buttons.
“I’m good now,” I told him after his touch lingered longer than I liked.
He released me like he was letting go of a lover.
Ducking my head, I laid out my soaked clothes near the entry in hopes that they’d dry before our departure. But with the moisture in the air, it was highly unlikely. When I finished, I settled as far away from him as I could with my back to the tree trunk and head on my knees.
The Issaraeth made no sound or move to settle into sleep, despite the fact he always went to bed after me and rose before I did.
His eyes seared into me, making my skin pebble, as it always did under his violent scrutiny.
I remained perfectly still, like prey pinned against an unforgiving surface while a predator circled.
Anger, stormier than the downpour outside, curled inside me.
How nice it would be to drift off now, with rhythmic patters to lull me into a sense of peace?
Yet there was no safety to be had here. In these close confines, with my fated mate mere feet away and his intent fully resting on me, sleep was for the naive.
Would he try to touch me?
He seemed like he wanted to with how his gaze lingered day after day. The innuendos he’d made. The sensual way he said my name.
There was no way he could know about our bond. Only I was tasked with carrying that burden.
For now…
The voice whispered in the back of my mind. Fear wrenched my stomach. That our true connection would be discovered almost felt inevitable at this point. How much longer could I keep this up?
Doubt, an insidious poison, infected me, aided by fatigue and frustration.
You have to keep trying, Sylaira. Don’t give up.
So despite the ache in my muscles, the blooming headache at the base of my skull, I remained in that balled position, fighting every instinct to remain awake.
Sleep was surrender, and I would never bow to the Issaraeth.