CHAPTER FIVE
The rich, savory aroma of fish chowder drifted through the cottage, curling warmly into the rafters.
I stirred my bowl, the spoon scraping against the ceramic in a grating sound.
Across the scrubbed pine table, my mother’s fingers worried the hem of her apron until the linen was a mess of white creases.
“Seventy-two hours,” Father finally said.
My spoon hovered midair, a single drop of broth sliding from its edge and falling back into the bowl.
“Yes,” I said at last.
Mother pressed her fingers to her lips. “Only three days…”
“It is not impossible,” Father said grimly. “What have they proposed?”
“By day, I am to present myself in Isvale. The Council will arrange introductions among fellow unbounds. They expect me to search…” I paused, unable to disguise the bitterness that edged the word. “Earnestly.”
Lyra frowned.
“And at night?” Father prompted.
“I am assigned to the Royal Archives,” I said. “They wish me to study under the guidance of Keeper Sora.”
My mother’s brows rose, and I looked away from her searching gaze as I continued “Talon has claimed supervisory authority over my case for the duration.”
The fire cracked in the hearth, the only sound in the sudden quiet. Father’s jaw tightened, the muscles jumping beneath his skin.
“The Master of the Veythar does not involve himself in minor proceedings,” he said, his voice hard.
“I know.”
Mother’s chair scraped softly as she rose, her hand sliding from my shoulder to cup my cheek. “Does he frighten you, Kaelia?”
The question lingered longer than it should have.
I thought of the sound of breaking bone beneath his boot on the ridge and the heat of his gaze in the hall.
“No,” I said honestly.
“He should,” my father grumbled. “The Master of the Veythar does not protect people, Kaelia.”
My mother’s hand trailed down my cheek, her fingers ghosting over the bruised skin of my throat. “Kaelia… your neck.”
Before I could pull away, her thumb hooked under my jaw, angling my head up toward the hearth-fire. I winced as the lingering heat flared, but she did not let go.
“It is nothing,” I lied.
“That is not nothing,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “That is a handprint!”
Father stood up so abruptly his plate rattled against the pine. His gaze was fixed on the darkening bruises. “Did he do this to you? Did Talon lay hands on you in that hall?”
“No! He did—”
“I will report him to the Council,” he roared, already turning toward the door. “I do not care if he is the Master of the Veythar, he cannot—”
“It was not Talon!”
The shout stopped him in his tracks.
I was not sure why I felt the need to clear his name, but the thought of my family believing he had hurt me did not sit right in my stomach. Perhaps it was because he had broken the bone of his own kin in my honor.
I exhaled slowly. “It was a patrol at the South Ridge. Two guards. They… they thought I had crossed the threshold.”
Mother’s fingers dropped from my jaw, her complexion draining of color. “They laid their hands on you?”
“It is done,” I said, my hand instinctively ghosting over my neck. “Talon intervened. He dismissed them publicly.”
Father did not look relieved. He leaned back against the heavy sideboard, wiping a hand down his tired face.
“We cannot live like this any longer,” he said, his voice thick with desperation. “It is unsafe. You are being hunted in your own realm, Kaelia.”
“It is not permanent,” I argued. “I still ha—”
“Of course it is not permanent!” Father whipped around, his eyes flashing. “Because in three sunrises, you are either bound or dead. And at the rate you are going, it will be the latter.”
Mother let out a strangled sob, clutching her apron. “He is right. Kaelia, please… your Aunt Amara thought she could outrun the solstice, too. She thought her soul was too sacred to be bartered.”
I stiffened. We did not speak of Amara. She was the ghost that lived in the corners of our cottage—the woman who waited for a soul-match that never came, only to be taken by the Veythar when the clock ran out.
“Amara chose her own heart over the law,” Mother continued, her voice breaking. “And we never saw her again. Please. A bond forged for safety can grow into something steady. It does not have to be a cage.”
I looked at Lyra, her hand tucked safely into Theron’s.
“You want me to wake up every morning beside a stranger,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “You want me to look at a man my soul does not recognize and thank him for the privilege of my breath.”
“We want you to live!” Mother cried, the sound echoing harshly against the rafters. “Amara is a warning, Kaelia. Not an inspiration.”
The pressure behind my ribs finally snapped. I stood so abruptly my chair screeched against the floorboards and toppled, the crash echoing in the space.
“I am not her!”
My mother flinched, her trembling hand coming to her mouth.
“I am sorry,” I whispered, shaking my head.
I turned and ran for the stairs, my boots thudding a frantic rhythm against the wood. I slammed my bedroom door and leaned against it, the darkness of the room swallowing me whole.