Chapter 41 #2
But that lie tasted bitter. Because he did want me. And I couldn’t deny that reality.
My best friend reached out her hand, and I took it. Together, we continued our flight into the forest. Each beat of my wings was labored. Ragged breaths inflated my chest. Sweat rolled down my spine, soaked my hair, slicked my palms.
This level of exertion should have been nothing.
But I battled with this damn chain for every inch away from my mate.
Sivy disappeared, the last of the tree huts lost to lush ferns. And not a moment too soon. Knives slid between my ribs and stabbed my lungs. My back burned from the inside out. I let go of Heraphia and careened toward the ground, the pain too great to continue on.
I cast a white net to catch my fall so I wouldn’t further injure my knee. Used the last bit of sanity to lower myself into a nestle of palms.
Hot salt slipped down my face, a tempestuous mix of sorrow and relief.
Heraphia landed a few feet away, banishing her wings. Darkness clawed through the trees, only a faint glow of moonlight carving her outline into the night.
“We can rest here, but then we need to continue on,” she said, teeth worrying her bottom lip.
I nodded, chest heaving, unable to voice my reply. It wasn’t safe for us to stop for long. But fuck, I needed a break.
The chain wrenched, doubling me over. Bile rose in my gut. I clamped my lips shut, but I gagged anyway. Turning to the side, I retched. Heraphia rubbed soothing circles on my back.
“What’s wrong?” she pressed once I finished.
“It’s ripping me apart from the inside,” I choked out, hand flattening over my well of magic. “Our connection is punishing me.”
My best friend frowned. “Are you sure you want to continue on then? That you can?”
I clenched my teeth and used the tree to shove myself upright. “I’m not going back. I can handle this. I’ve survived worse.”
Nothing more than pushing yourself for the lead role in Dark Swan.
Dragging in a deep breath, I wrapped ivory around me and formed my wings again. Half walking, half flying, I trudged on. Heraphia trotted beside me, peering into the night.
“Can’t see shit out here,” I groused, attitude souring from the sheer volume of agony attacking me. “Sure would be nice if the Goddess would offer us a break sometime. Instead we’re always at a disadvantage on the run.”
“Aye,” Heraphia replied, pulling back a thicket of rainforest plants for me to pass.
“Where do you think Zuriel is?” I asked her over my shoulder.
From what she’d told me, he’d been sent directly to the front a day after their arrival.
The Korona had allowed them one kiss goodbye before the Sightkeepers dragged her into the Divine Atrium and Ithuriel stood by and watched his nephew—in bronze shackles—be led away by a Padisa.
“He reached the front just yesterday,” a velvety, masculine voice replied.
I froze. Heraphia’s lips parted in a silent choke.
The bond purred, smug and satisfied, as if it alone had dragged me back to my rightful master.
Like I was facing my execution, I turned.
And standing in a strand of pale moonlight was the Issaraeth.
I expected him to be furious. For rage to turn molten in his eyes.
Instead, his expression was smooth as a glassy lake. Save for his jaw, clenched tight. Those glacial irises roamed over me, then drifted to Heraphia. I sidestepped in front of her, hand snapping up like I could possibly protect her from him.
“No one knows you two are missing. Yet.” The way he said it, his tone even and cool, raised the hairs on my arms. “I suggest we return before one of the Sightkeepers sounds the alarm.”
Why isn’t he mad?
That terrible, tightly controlled calm, frightened me more than his anger ever had.
“We’re not going back,” I spat.
He lifted a scarred, iron-gray brow. “Here I thought the two of you believed in peace. Instead, you fly off to war? I’m shocked at how quickly you’ve changed, Sylaira.”
“Perhaps I should give you two a moment,” Heraphia said, backing away, like she’d accepted that we were caught and our return to Thalvireth was inevitable.
“If you would,” the Issaraeth sighed, his focus still trained on me. “Don’t think about running though, Heraphia. If one of you goes missing, we’re all doomed.”
My best friend let out a frustrated huff. “I’m not leaving Sylaira behind.”
“Good,” was all my mate replied.
A rustle told me she’d retreated. My nails bit into my palms as the Issaraeth stepped closer. “Do not touch me.”
“I only ever want to touch you, little fugitive,” he murmured darkly. “I should not have said what I did. I was angry.”
I didn’t reply, that acute agony returning and stealing my breath.
“Sylaira.”
The way he spoke my name should have been considered part of the unholy trinity of sins.
The Issaraeth drifted, his boots whispering over the grass. “Come back with me before you’re missed. If you’re caught out…I’m not sure that even I can protect you.”
I fell deeper into his orbit, unable to help myself. “Then don’t. You don’t owe me anything,” I replied, but the bite was absent from my tone.
“You are my mate. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Including protecting you from your own foolish mistakes.” He said it like he knew the taste of that failure already.
He closed the space between us, reaching for my mud-soaked hair and tucking it behind my ear. I shivered at the gentle touch.
“Including marrying Dasha. Even if the thought of doing so kills me. So long as Iaoth’s wrath does not turn on you, I will do anything.”
Hot salt seared the back of my nose. I blinked, willing the tears not to fall. “I hate you.”
“I know.”
The words settled like the ashy remnants of what we used to be.
He clasped my hands in his. I didn’t move. I loathed that part of me felt safer with him this close.
“There is so much more I wish to say. But we don’t have time.” In one smooth motion, he captured me in his arms. A gasp slipped out of me. White banded my injured leg, supporting it as his massive feathered wings sprouted from his back.
“Heraphia,” he called into the shadows.
My best friend appeared a moment later, eyeing my mate with a healthy dose of wariness. She frowned when she noted how he held me. “If you hurt her like that again, I’ll do more than break your finger.”
Some silent understanding passed between them, before finally the Issaraeth said, “Understood.”
He waited until Heraphia was airborne before guiding the three of us back toward Thalvireth.
Back toward a silver cage.
Back toward a fate worse than death.
Back to him.