Chapter 7
Heartache had grown thorns, and every inhale drove them deeper into my ribs.
I wandered the camp with no destination, two specters haunting my every step.
Althirion and Nymirae trailed some dozen paces behind me, performing disinterest so poorly it was insulting.
I hadn’t Seen anything during the afternoon, and their scrutiny had followed me ever since.
Because when the Goddess wanted to speak to me, she would. The time of day didn’t matter.
Rage roared as I glared at them over my shoulder. I lengthened my stride like I could outpace them. Like I could outpace any of this fate forced upon me.
I wanted to be far, far away from them and from this battalion moving north, headed for that mountain battle from my prophecy.
The Goddess dragged my focus back to that carnage, day after day. Endless destruction left me reeling; I loathed surfacing with salt on my lips and rivers on my cheeks.
At least Lyriasthe remained with me, part shield and part savior, holding me as I ripped back from the violent darkness.
Even though the arms I ached for belonged to a male I could never forgive.
As if I’d thought him into existence, the Issaraeth emerged from the dusk ahead, his iron-gray hair tied neatly, though the rest of him looked like he’d been devoured by a leviathan and spit back out. He hadn’t bothered to shave at all, and now his beard had grown out longer than I’d ever seen it.
Our bond lashed me like a relentless whip, nearly dragging my feet out from under me. But I dug my heels in and refused to capitulate to its violence.
We hadn’t spoken since the night he told me no one would ever choose him. I’d been…avoiding him. And not because he’d revealed that he’d dreamed of killing his father in a brutal manner.
Because I still cared—and hated myself for that.
How could anyone reconcile who he was to me?
My hunter. My captor. My mate.
He killed my parents. A flash of my mother’s face as she’d held me after a tormented glimpse into the future robbed me of air. Heraphia would still be breathing, at my side, alive, if he’d never come for us. He’d fed me false promises alongside fake virelthorn.
And yet…
He saved me from those brigands. He’d stood up for me in front of his sister. He’d surrendered his power, abided torture at the tip of a bronze-threaded needle, so I wouldn’t be harmed.
DUTY ABOVE ALL
Even now, the words carved into him emerged from the recesses of my mind with sickening ease.
Ice-blue eyes drifted in my direction. I shrank into the shadows of a wagon, cool wood pressing against my bare shoulders.
A snicker had me snapping my attention to Nymirae.
“What?” I groused, keeping my voice low.
“Never have I seen two mates who avoided each other so thoroughly,” she commented, disdain dripping in her tone.
“Because you are so connected to yours. Effortless from the very moment your eyes met,” I hissed, fingers curling into fists at my side. “You must know everything about devotion. After all, you’re an errand bird for someone else rather than holding real power.”
She flinched back like I’d slapped her.
Fucking good. I almost wished I had reached out to strike her.
A laugh slipped out of me at the thought.
No longer could I claim to be Elessarum, not when I breathed death into being—through my visions or my tempestuous rage.
I hadn’t been for a long time, and I still didn’t know where I was going.
This freefall would forge me into someone new or shatter me into a million shards. And I couldn’t See which it would be.
“Shall I call him over then?” she taunted, crossing her arms.
A hum caressed the sky, and we both looked up. Two ghostly glows moved through the dim light.
Ilae and Ysolthe.
The vines around my chest loosened at the sight of the two legendary auravanes.
Nymirae was terrified of my pet, I’d learned, and wicked delight danced in my veins as Ysolthe drifted closer, leaving her mate behind.
In two powerful flaps, she landed on the wagon beside me, talons gouging marks into the wood.
My keeper’s sapphire eyes went wide, and she took a healthy step back. “Actually, I should find something to eat.”
“You should.” I grinned with a vicious flashing of my teeth.
She jogged off with one last glare and several over-the-shoulder glances, like she was worried Ysolthe would spear forward and slice with her razor-sharp feathers.
When Nymirae was out of sight, I turned to my bird. “Thank you,” I whispered to her, reaching up to stroke the soft spot behind her antlers.
She clicked and nuzzled into my palm. Then, she offered me a series of images—a fat mouse screeching as she caught it, bright-colored birds she’d chased through the canopy, and even a prowling jaguar who had bolted when we made camp in her territory.
I was still learning the intricacies of communicating with her—our connection was far different than what I shared with the Issaraeth. It wasn’t like I could ask him for help either.
“Mouse was yummy?” I asked her.
She ducked her head, ruffling her crystalline feathers.
I jerked my hand back before they sliced into my palm. “Everything is good with Ilae?”
Silver eyes studied me, unblinking. It was unnerving, how still she could be. Ilae had fascinated me—after he and his master had captured me, of course. To have an auravane of my own now was a blessing when everything else in my life had been ripped from me.
Ysolthe showed me him next. My heart gave a painful squeeze at the image of the Issaraeth alone with Ilae. No warmth stretched between them, even as his pet used his antlers to nudge his arm. Ilae’s worry threaded through the image, as did Ysolthe’s concern for the ache in her own mate.
Maelsar attempted to talk to him. But the Issaraeth merely turned his back on his friend and walked away. Days of silence. Days of nothing.
And for how many more? Was this all that was left of the male who had ensured I could dance again?
Worry knotted my gut. I shouldn’t care that he was wasting away. I shouldn’t care that he’d had his power ripped from him—his whole identity.
The same had been done to me, and I was here, plotting. Stumbling along with learning how to direct my Sight, but fucking trying. Because I couldn’t sit here and do nothing. Not with what had happened to Heraphia. Not with what had happened to me.
Ysolthe nudged at the barrier of my mind, a question lingering with another flash of our mates.
“No, I don’t want to see him,” I told Ysolthe.
She let out a harsh click, beak snapping forward like she was going to bite me.
“You wouldn’t understand!” I protested. “It’s too complicated for me to explain to you.”
The chain twisted tight behind my sternum. I whirled, finding the Issaraeth only a few paces away. Staring. Close enough that stormwood wrapped around me in a brutal caress.
Nothing flickered in his expression.
When we’d first collided, he’d been all controlled cruelty, emotionless and empty. That same visage confronted me now.
Yet there was the barest crack in his defenses, revealing the male who’d been unraveled by my presence in his life. The mate who’d sacrificed himself for me.
We froze mid-step in a dance that no longer held music, two partners suspended in the silence between movements.
My body ached to arch into his. For his hand to cup my waist while he led us through the ending steps of Sleeping Maiden atop an ancient tree.
But he’d hurt me. The sooner my limbs remembered that, the better.
His lips parted; I tore myself free. The bond protested with a harsh yank around my ribs as I spun away from him. I gritted my teeth and forced my feet to move, even though each step away was like dragging my legs through mud.
And I left my mate standing in the darkness of his own making.