TWENTY-ONE #2
A shriek tore through the air, a sound like metal tearing. The glyphs recoiled violently, the seal tightening, stilling against the leather-bound journal once more.
The force of it knocked them both backwards.
Each candle extinguished at once, leaving curling tendrils of smoke drifting upwards.
Silas hit the ground hard, stars bursting behind his eyes. Amelia rolled to her side with a groan, clutching her ribs.
The journal sat smug and untouched between them. The glyphs glowed again, steady, mocking, and resolute. A beating heart that would not still.
Silas dragged himself upright, breathing hard. “Well,” he muttered, “that went spectacularly.”
Amelia pushed hair from her face, scowling. “It reacted to our bond. I felt it.”
Silas pressed his palm to his chest, over the wild thudding of his heart. “There was a voice, a woman. Did you hear it?”
Amelia’s frown deepened. “I didn’t hear anyone.”
Silas stared at the journal, jaw tightening as unease crept beneath his skin.
“We’ll try again tomorrow,” Amelia said, voice like steel.
He leaned back against the wall, aching in places he didn’t know he could ache, watching her through heavy-lidded eyes. Her stubbornness sparked something deep in him, something steadying.
“You’re damn right we will,” he said quietly.
In the late afternoon, he returned to Amelia’s apartment alone to relook at his fathers’ journal in case something had been missed in the chaotic scribbles all over the margins, some overlapping each other. Amelia visited Halpert, promising she would return later with dinner.
He was tired of reading the same words over and over, yet each run-through he found something he hadn’t seen before. The insane entries caused nothing but a deep sadness.
His back ached by the time he contemplated giving up again for the day, when a few lines in miniscule writing stood out, rendering him speechless. He read the lines several times before closing the cover. Silas sat back in the armchair, staring at the wall with an odd feeling coursing through him.
When the sun left the world in darkness, Amelia entered the room, toting a paper bag filled with food.
She nodded to him quietly before laying the food out on the ground.
“How was Halpert?”
She pulled a lid from a container, the contents steaming.
“He’s been working on a new kind of rune for the lamp crystals,” she explained.
“His research is very interesting. He was telling me he’s had a few meetings with the city mage.
Sounds like an interesting fellow.” Amelia laughed slightly as she fetched some bowls for them.
“Mages usually are,” Silas responded.
“Mm,” she agreed absently, spooning some rice into a bowl, and handing it to him.
“Thanks.” He took the bowl, adding some vegetables from another container.
“Halpert mentioned that the mage had a hired mercenary with him.”
Silas glanced up. “Have more mages disappeared?”
Amelia shrugged one shoulder. “He’d heard that a mage in the south was reported missing…that would be three in last few months if the rumours are true.” She gave him a look.
“The south…do you think he meant—”
“Fabian Eros.” Amelia nodded, spoon circling around her bowl. “Yeah, I do think that. He was missing. And the state of his place?”
They fell into an uneasy silence.
She cleared her throat. “How did you get on?” Amelia asked. “Anything to report?”
Silas was quiet as he chewed, weighing whether to tell her. There was no real reason not to, and yet, he hesitated.
“Uh, yeah,” he said finally, avoiding eye contact, “something caught my eye that I had missed in the journal.”
“Oh?”
He nodded, spooning up another bite.
“Care to share?” she asked, a sharp edge to her voice, just enough to suggest he was grating on her nerves.
With a sigh, Silas set the bowl aside and stood.
He crossed the room to find the journal, flipping it open as he returned.
Sitting back down beside her, he skimmed the page once more, his heart beginning to thrum again.
He turned the book to her, tapping the cramped, slanting text running up the margin, faded and almost illegible.
She arched a brow at him but took the journal, her fingers brushing his as she pulled it into her lap. Her eyes scanned the page, and in his mind, Silas recited the words alongside her:
“The phenomenon of pair bonding has long been misunderstood. It is neither a matter of fate nor of romantic entanglement. The magic does not choose their bearers based on love or longing, but rather on resonance; on two minds, two souls that call to each other in ways unseen. It is a bond of compatibility, of understanding, but it holds no inherent sway over the heart.” Citing ‘Legends of the Realm’ by Trella Thumbwig, 1263.
Her fingers tightened around the journal. She blinked once, then again, rereading the lines in the way he had. Her face gave away nothing. Silas watched as she slowly closed the book and set it down beside her, eyes trained on the floor.
She picked up her bowl again, stirring the contents with her spoon, but not moving to eat.
The silence stretched out too long.
Finally, she let out a sharp breath and lowered the bowl again. Amelia met his gaze. “So…what am I supposed to take from that?” Her voice was tight, unsteady. “It’s not the bond that’s making me feel—” She cut herself off, jaw snapping shut.
His eyes stayed on her face, steady. “You thought it was?”
“Didn’t you?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I knew you did. But no, I never really believed it was the bond, not for me.”
She leaned back on her hands and stared past him, thinking. Then she straightened abruptly, pushing her fingers into her temples, visibly agitated. “I don’t know. I just…thought the bond amplified everything. That what I was feeling wasn’t really mine.”
Silas’ throat tightened. He’d suspected as much, though hearing her say it stung in a way he hadn’t expected. Amelia had always shied away from closeness, always deflected whenever the tension between them rose. But now, hearing the truth, seeing her this exposed, somehow made it worse.
“Did you really think it was all the bond,” he asked quietly, “that none of it was you?”
She dropped her hands to her knees, her flat gaze meeting his. “It would have made things simpler.”
He exhaled through his nose. “Simpler. Right.” Silas looked away, voice clipped. “Because the alternative is too inconvenient?”
Her eyes snapped to him. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Then say what you mean,” he countered, voice calmer than he felt.
Amelia glanced up to the arcane lamp above them, which flickered in the silence like it shared their turmoil. When she spoke again, her voice was softer.
“I convinced myself it was the bond,” she said, “that it would fade once we were out of this. That it wasn’t real…so I could just ignore it.”
He nodded slowly, jaw working. Of course she had. She was a scientist, needing proof. She didn’t trust easily, especially not with things she couldn’t control. But still, a part of him had hoped.
“Well,” he said, “now you know. It was never the bond.” His voice dipped, low and certain. “It was always you.” His eyes traced over her face. “It was always me.”
The silence that followed was thick, almost tangible.
Amelia looked at him, really looked, something flickering in her gaze, shifting.
“But your sister…she mentioned a girlfriend?” she said, cheeks pink.
Silas blinked. “That was over a year ago. We dated for two months, realised we didn’t fit, and ended it. Amicably. Aurora was just being meddlesome when she said that.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, looking over to the far wall.
“I don’t know what to do with any of this,” she admitted finally, barely above a whisper.
He studied her for a moment before giving her a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to do anything. Just maybe stop pretending it doesn’t exist.”
She worried at her lower lip, her gaze shifting, sliding over his face as though she were seeing him for the first time. Her head tilted slightly.
“How do we know those words are even real?” Amelia asked. The question sounded forced, as if even she didn’t believe it.
He saw through it. “I’ll be finding the source of that quote,” Silas said, a slow smirk curving his mouth. “Mostly to see if the book’s relevant to us…but I’ll happily highlight that exact passage for you.”
Her eyes searched his, and he stayed silent, letting the tension draw tighter between them.
She cleared her throat and looked away before pushing to her feet, stepping back with folded arms.
He stood, too.
When she looked at him again, his pulsed stuttered. It was a look of half hesitation and half something darker. There was no trace of her usual scorn, only something heated.
He stepped forwards. “Would you like me to explain and demonstrate, scientifically of course, why it couldn’t possibly be the bond?” His voice was low, suggestive.
She swallowed, her lips parting. Her answer was breathless yet certain. “Yes.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move, almost too stunned to. Then he stepped closer still, close enough to reach out and touch her.
Their eyes locked, heat passing between them in a way that was certainly undeniable.
“Firstly,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips along her arm, “I’ve wanted to touch you long before the cuts. That hasn’t been altered by the magic.”
His fingers circled her arm, and he stepped forwards, guiding her back two small steps, until she nudged against the pillar in the middle of the room. Her breath hitched as he closed in, looking down at her.
“Secondly,” he continued, voice as soft as it was dangerous, “…the bond has been mirroring our emotions. We’ve felt all manner of things from each other—anger, elation, fear, frustration…
desire.” His hand slid over her shoulder, a single finger gliding over her collarbone.
Her chest rose sharply. “All natural responses…why would it enhance one emotion over another?”
Amelia breathed quickly while his finger trailed up her throat, pausing beneath her jaw, tilting her face up a fraction.
Her breaths ghosted across his mouth.
“Thirdly—nothing we’ve read suggests it could fabricate emotional resonance or…sexual attraction.” His thumb brushed against her skin, her body shivering under the touch. “Has it?”
“No,” she breathed.
He inhaled slowly, his gaze darkening. “Then tell me.” He leaned in, lips brushing her cheekbone. “From a scientific standpoint…how does this make you feel?”
Her fingers curled around his shoulder. “It’s…” A shaky breath escaped her as his mouth skimmed her ear. “Certainly eliciting a reaction.”
“Noted,” he murmured, a hand skimming down her side and just grazing the curve of her breast before sliding beneath her shirt. Heat met his palm, her skin taut and muscles twitching beneath his touch. “How about this?”
He felt her head nod next to him. “It’s…” She paused to gasp breathily, his fingers travelling upwards, brushing at the edges of her undergarment. Her hand tightened against his shoulder. “… Good .”
His mouth curved against her skin. “Just good?”
He leaned back, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed, lips parted, breaths shaky.
She was breathtakingly gorgeous in her openness.
Her eyes met his with a spark. “You’ll have to do better.”
His grin turned wicked, and she shuddered under the look.
He gripped her waist beneath her shirt, thumb brushing the underside of her breast. With his other hand, he grazed slowly across her bottom lip. He took that lip between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently until her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering.
He replaced his fingers with his mouth, pressing a soft, lingering kiss around that lip until she moaned, the sound vibrating against him.
He pulled away slowly, lips still touching a fraction as he murmured against her, “what about that?”
Her hands gripped him, one on his shoulder while the other curled around the nape of his neck. “More,” she whispered against his mouth.
Heart pounding, he went in softly again, this time a hot press around her top lip before pulling back again. “Mm…do I take that to mean I’m garnering a response?”
Eyes closed again, Amelia’s chin tilted up, lips parting, seeking him.
“Winslow?” he breathed.
A crease formed between her brows, a hint of frustration entering her features. “Yes,” she said, keeping her eyes shut. “Yes, Finley. Now, kiss me… please .”
That one word did it. It shattered every ounce of control he had left within his body.
He kissed her.
Not soft this time, but hard, urgent. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. She moaned into him, her body pliant and welcoming, as he deepened the kiss and took what she offered.
Nudging a thigh between her legs, his hand moved to grip at her hip, dragging her over him.
She gasped against his mouth before coming back in with another fervent kiss, her own hand snaking under the back of his shirt, fingers pressing in urgently against his hot skin.
Then she was moving herself against him, shifting her hips, seeking friction against his thigh.
Fuck .
His hands shook where he touched her, intense heat trapped between their bodies.
A sharp, cracking noise broke through the haze, and he reared back in surprise. Above them, a shower of sparks shot outwards, the arcane lamp bursting with a bright light before blacking out.
Their heads both tilted up to look at the darkened sconce, chests pulsing with panting breaths.
He looked back to her slowly, and their eyes met once more. Silas studied her expression, hoping not to see regret there.
“Well,” Amelia said, still breathless. A small smile tugged at her lips, and his heart soared. “I think you made your point.”
His grin could not be helped. “I do love drawing conclusions to my hypotheses. This test was, irrefutably, my favourite to participate in.”
Her laugh was soft, open. “Perhaps we should repeat your findings, confirm the validity.”
His eyes searched across her face wonderingly. “I do love your fastidious approach to science.”
Her smile slowly faded, and he saw the moment sliding away from them. She swallowed before shifting out from beneath him, taking a few strides away. He watched her go, staying near the column. “Shall we get some fresh air?”
Silas pulled in a deep breath before nodding. “Of course.”
They pulled on their coats, and he led her from the room. As he pulled the door shut behind him, he wondered at the sudden change. Though when she made a joke as they stepped into the elevator, Silas got the sense that Amelia had merely required some time to process everything.
There was no regret, no frustration over a decision yet to be made that he could sense from her.
They stepped out into the dark, evening air, Silas’ chest expanding with a lightness he had not felt for a long while.