Chapter 22
Avillage emerged around the next bend, pressed between the tall trees like something carved from the forest itself.
Unlike Sivy, no canopy walks connected houses built around the massive trunks.
Here, wealth was measured in time and laughter, not gems and silk.
It was why I’d always loved stopping here on my journeys to and from the capital.
We rolled up to the front of the single inn, a two-story construction with only a handful of rooms. Not like we’d need more than one.
Sylaira was not sleeping alone. I was not risking someone else trying to steal her away in the night.
Or her trying to escape after I slaughtered seven people in front of her.
Not like it would matter. The magic chaining us together would always lead me straight to her. Even she knew that. But escaping me, over and over, felt like something she would do out of pure spite.
She tested my patience and self-control daily, if not hourly, and tonight would be no different. My mate had an uncanny ability to notice the smallest shifts in me. No one ever saw me unless I wanted them to, and that was a rare, rare offering, even for Maelsar.
Earlier she’d tossed one of her best lines yet.
“You don’t scare me, Issaraeth. You are under the illusion that you are making your own choices. It’s cute really. But I know your duty is a shackle you are too scared to break.”
The barbs stung, and yet I found myself waiting for the next one like a masochist who craved her bite. She needed reminding who was in fucking charge here.
I hopped down from the seat. But not without a glance behind me at Sylaira. Her eyes closed, hands draped across her stomach, she appeared to be asleep.
But I knew better.
The bond lashed me like a relentless whip as I put space between us. Every day with her in the cart behind me was worse. So close, yet so far. The distance was necessary. Yet it protested more and more, punishing me for not claiming her. For not taking care of her as a mate should have.
Not like she would fucking let me, even if I wanted to.
I lowered my hood as I pushed inside, the scent of sweet peaches enveloping me.
And reminding me far too much of the ghostflower that exuded from my captive Seer.
“Herr R?viel, it is so lovely to see you again,” the innkeeper greeted me, tossing her rag onto the pristinely polished bar.
At least someone showed me the proper respect. “You as well. I’ll need one room today.”
She wiped her hands on her apron and opened her notebook. “How many are traveling with you? I’m afraid I’ve only got the one in the attic at the moment.”
Fuck.
The stairs to reach it would be impossible with Sylaira’s crutches, which meant I would have to carry her. And also that the two of us would be confined to a room that was scarcely big enough for me by myself.
“Two, unfortunately,” I sighed, mind working over any other solutions. The next town would be impossible to reach before nightfall, and we’d camped the last few nights under a drizzle. We were both soaked and miserable.
She tapped a pen on the open page. “Hmm. I could make up a cot for one of you down here once we close for the night? The attic only has one bed. I know you lads don’t mind sharing though.”
I raked a hand through my hair, landing on the back of my neck. “I have a female with me this time.”
She was familiar with my duty at this point, so I didn’t need to explain further that Sylaira was essentially my prisoner. That word, in my mind, felt so wrong—even if I’d called her that to her face before. Our situation was…complicated to say the least.
Days of driving, staring into the trees, hadn’t aided in sorting through the events that had wholly upended the path I had been on. That had shattered the tomb over my emotions and allowed ones long-buried to creep free.
It would have been better if I felt nothing at all, but here we were.
“I see.” She chewed her lip, thinking. “I have some extra blankets I can bring up to the attic. It won’t be comfortable, but it’s something.”
We didn’t have much choice since I couldn’t force anyone out without revealing my presence.
I’d sleep on the floor beside the Seer. “We’ll take it,” I replied, fishing out gold wings and plopping them on the counter.
It was far more than the normal rate, but I also needed her discretion.
Our arrangement had been mutually beneficial for years.
She scooped them into her pocket. “Bring your horses around back and the stablehands will take care of them.” She grabbed the key to the attic room and dropped it into my open palm. “You know the way.”
“Aye, thank you,” I replied, letting the cool metal bite into my skin. Blowing out a long breath, I returned to the cart. Sylaira had at least sat up and was playing absently with the ends of her long, silvery hair. Most of it remained in a high twist, invisible beneath the hood of her cloak.
I rapped my knuckles against the wood as I circled to the rear. Tugging the bolts, the lip dropped.
My mate finally deigned to acknowledge my existence. “Can you hand me the crutches when I’m down?” She gestured to where she’d placed them by the right-hand side.
Saying nothing, I grabbed them.
Lips pursed, she scooted along, careful not to bend her leg and aggravate the injury to her knee.
“Is it hurting you?” I asked her, unable to feel more than a dull throb down our bond.
She shook her head—a fraction too quickly—breath ragged from the small exertion. “Save your concern for someone who appreciates it.”
“I wasn’t concerned.” Her stubbornness set my teeth on edge, but I let it go. White unfurled around her, wrapping up her leg as she swung them over the lip. Bracing the supports against the ground, she prepared to descend.
My fingers twitched with anticipation, body primed to jump in and assist her should she need it.
With surprising grace, she eased onto them, managing to keep her bad leg aloft. She swung herself toward the inn’s doors without a backward glance. I strode ahead, holding it open, then following her inside.
The tavern wasn’t large, and at the moment, it was empty. Which gave her a perfect view to the staircase that led upstairs.
She tucked her hair behind her pointed ear, flashing the array of gems pierced into it. I’d not yet been close enough to study them the way I wanted to.
I approached, coming to a stop close enough to scoop her up. Her focus whipped to me, those icy orbs drinking me in with a healthy wariness.
“The only room available is in the attic. I’ll have to carry you up the stairs to it.”
“Absolutely not,” she snapped, stormclouds darkening her expression. “I’ll fly. Go open a window.”
A scoff slipped out of me before I could stop it. “And let you practice escaping? I don’t think so.”
Her lips curled back from her teeth. “Then I’ll use my magic to haul myself up.”
“And injure yourself further?” I lifted one brow, waiting for her to challenge me again.
As much as I hated it, the back and forth heated my blood.
There were so few times I really had a good hunt.
Even though she was already in my proximity, this banter made me feel like I was chasing her all over again.
She stuck her tongue in the side of her cheek and looked away, studying the staircase before her.
I edged closer, caging her backside with my body, and leaned down to her exposed ear. “You can attempt the first set and I can carry you from there, or we can get this over with as fast as possible and I’ll carry you the whole way.”
A shiver rolled down her spine, almost imperceptible. But I was highly attuned to all things Sylaira, and she could not hide from me.
“Are you really giving me a choice?” she rasped, a tremor fracturing through the words.
“A rarity, I’ll admit.” My breath ghosted over her neck, bringing pebbles to the skin visible around her tunic.
She swallowed, hard. The predator in me loved the fragile motion. “Let’s get it over with, then.”
I smiled at my victory. White snaked out of me, coiling around her leg, and then, I caught her in my embrace, the wooden braces falling to the ground. A small gasp escaped her, and the sound instantly brought images of her doing it while I moved inside her to the forefront of my mind.
Just the bond.
Mates normally couldn’t keep their hands off one another when they first met. Yet given our situation, we hadn’t so much as kissed. Fuck, this was the closest she’d willingly allowed me.
I shoved down all thoughts of intimacy. In their place, pain licked up my spine, hot and jagged stabs accompanying each movement in my lower back. With the reminder of how the robbers had almost taken Sylaira from me, I punished every step as I climbed up to the second story.
More magic reached for the key and slotted it into the lock to the attic room. I peeled the door open, then carried my mate up the remaining spiral of stairs.
The room held a chill, and she shivered as I placed her on the bed.
“Wait here,” I told her, more threat than promise.
“As if I could go anywhere else,” she snarked as I returned to the base of the stairs.
I shut the door behind me with more force than necessary. Locked her in for good measure too.
I barely registered the conversation with the stablehands as I handed the horses off to them. On my return trek, I picked up Sylaira’s discarded crutches and dragged in steadying breaths through my nostrils.
You are in control, Vaeron. Get a fucking grip over your emotions. You know the consequences of letting them get the better of you. You remember what he did the last time.
A flash of my father’s favorite dagger entered my mind, along with a phantom bite over my heart.
I paused at the attic door, hands braced on either side of the frame. I studied each knot in the wood, trying to calm my racing mind. Trying to find my center. Trying to find the silence when all she caused was noise in my head.
Being confined with her in such a small space was going to be torture. But I’d survived worse. I could weather the onslaught of her storm.
Resolve hardened, I shoved the key in the lock and entered.
Sylaira had removed her cloak and braced against the headboard. Her eyes flicked around the room, taking in the sparse furniture—besides the bed, there was a small washbasin and a dresser. A cold fireplace decorated the opposite wall.
Setting down our belongings in one corner, I tossed in a few logs, then lit them to bring warmth to the room. Summer held the forest in its clutches, though with the thick canopy filtering out much sunlight, it was chilly.
“Have fun wandering freely?” Sylaira drawled.
I paused in front of the cabinet. My fingers flexed, opening it anyway. “I had to take the horses to the stables. Not like you’d care.”
Finding a blanket, I flung it in her direction. It landed with a thud mere inches from her bad knee.
Fury sharpened the sneer on her lips as I faced her again.
Of course, she wouldn’t appreciate that I was helping her. She never would. Should have left the damn thing locked away and savored her suffering.
Gaze still locked with mine, she reached for it like she was accepting a vial of poison and shrugged it around her shoulders. I settled at the foot, back to her, staring into the fire.
I’d carried her into the attic like she was mine. Yet in every way that mattered, she wasn’t.
Never would be.
Because she was right.
I was a monster.
And a vicious, broken one at that.