CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Talon stopped so abruptly that I nearly collided with his back. I huffed, moving to step around him to demand an explanation, but the words died in my throat as a roaring sound tore through the heavy silence of the night.
I braced myself, my hand flying to the hilt of the silver knife at my waist as I expected another ambush, but the mountain before us began to groan.
Beneath the pale moonlight, the ancient stone seemed to split open, a jagged fissure widening until it swallowed the darkness and revealed a path where there had been only rock.
A colossal waterfall unveiled itself, hidden within a cleft of the rock. Silver water plunged from heights so dizzying that my neck ached as I tried to follow the descent, the torrent shattering into a furious pool where mist leaped into the air like a shimmering veil.
The spray kissed my skin, instantly chilling the sweat that had gathered at my temples during our flight.
“Wow,” I gasped, the word nearly lost to the roar of the crashing water.
Talon huffed a laugh, his eyes tracking the way the moonlight fractured against the spray.
I squinted through the haze. “Where exactly are we?”
“Somewhere no mortal would dare venture,” he replied.
Without another word, Talon stepped into the shimmering veil of the waterfall, his form dissolving into the white noise of the crash.
“Talon!” I called out, but my voice was swallowed by the roar.
Cursing his name, I took a breath and stumbled into the torrent.
The icy water hit me in a violent shock that soaked through my nightdress in an instant, causing the fabric to cling indecently to every curve of my body.
My teeth chattered as I pushed through the heavy curtain of the falls, stumbling out the other side where the roar faded to a muffled echo.
The chamber that opened before me stole the breath I had just fought to regain.
It was impossibly vast, a cathedral of stone suffused with a light that felt ancient and sentient.
Walls of polished obsidian gleamed, smoothed by eons of water, while a river of glowing cobalt light ran through the cavern’s heart.
Its reflection scattered across the ceiling like shifting constellations, and tiny fish—shining like fragments of fallen moonlight—darted through the luminous current.
Radiant blue dust drifted lazily through the air, turning the cavern into a sky caught in stone.
Talon shrugged off his damp shirt in one motion, the fabric sliding to the ground to leave him bare-chested and impossibly real.
His back was a map of shadow and light. Ancient runes curled across skin stretched over corded muscle, every line a story I did not yet know how to read. Some of the ink pulsed with the same cobalt glow as the river, while pale scars marked the spaces in between.
He waded waist-deep into the glowing river.
As he moved, thin, ethereal threads sprang from the runes on his skin.
I gasped as the ghostly forms twisted around him, brushing against his cheek and neck like affectionate phantoms. With a single flick of his inked finger, he pulled them back, sinking the threads into his skin as if they had never existed.
He met my eyes, catching the brief flicker of awe I could not hide. I snapped my lips shut, forcing a huff of feigned annoyance.
Talon laughed. “Would you believe any words I spoke, little flame?”
I looked down at my bare feet and wiggled my toes into the soft moss. “I would now.”
If the High Court was willing to send a witch to execute me in my own front yard, all in the name of an ‘extinct’ bond, I could not imagine what other horrors they have committed.
“Sit,” he said softly, gesturing to a stone bed layered with thick furs and black silk.
I sank onto the mossy bed, the absolute comfort of the space encasing my body. Being here, intoxicated by his scent of ozone and earth, made a naive part of me imagine a future that did not end in fire.
“The Sayel never went extinct, Kaelia,” he started, gesturing between us. “But that much must of been obvious.”
“I figured,” I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. “I just do not understand the reason for the lie. What does the High Court fear about this bond?”
“Power,” he stated, cupping the water in his hands and striding closer to the bank. “A Sayel bond merges essence. Share a life, and each gains the other’s abilities. We are becoming two halves of one whole.”
Talon hummed contentedly and nodded. A wave of nausea settled in my gut at the thought that I would no longer be entirely human, but before I could speak, a flash of something horrific ripped through my mind—a vision that was not my own.
I saw a darkened stone cage. I heard the squeals of tortured spirits. My eyes skimmed over dozens of bare, unmoving bodies on cold stone. Blurred faces on missing persons posters nailed to the wooden pillars of Isvale. And flashes of the same faces laid against the concrete floor.
“Do you see?”
“What was that?” I whispered, burying myself in the furs as the vision cleared. “Talon, what did you just show me?”
“The truth,” he said, stepping from the river. Water streamed down his carved torso as he moved toward me.
“I do not understand,” I gripped the hide tightly. “You showed me the wandering souls.”
The name was spoken in hushed tones in the markets, the lost ones who vanished without a trace. They said these souls felt adrift, their lives slowly draining away, so they simply left Haelen and were never to be seen again.
“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice a low rumble. “The name does not fit the horror, but those were the wandering souls, and they were sent to the Thrynn chambers.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because they were Sayel bound.”
My eyes widened as they searched his face for any sign of feigning. When all I saw deep in his eyes was truth, I shook my head.
“This cannot be real,” I denied, throwing the blanket away and standing. “You knew this was the price, and you still bound us?”
Talon did not answer. He simply watched me as I paced the cavern, my hair flowing behind me like a cape of fire.
“Was it the same for Thora and Xylos?” I demanded. “Was that the Sayel?”
Talon’s gaze darkened, something unreadable flickering in the navy depths of his eyes.
“I suspect they were the first to be hunted,” he said, running an inked hand through his damp hair. “But this is a lot of information for one night, Kaelia. You need rest.”
I spun on him, my finger jabbing out. “I am not tired.”
Talon’s eyes narrowed. “Do not lie to me. You always sleep at this time.”
I placed a hand on my hip. “And how would you know? There is no possible way for you to know my habits.”
I knew it was late; if I were home, I would have most likely been snuggled beneath two fluffy blankets with a leather-bound book in my hands. But Talon should not have known that. He should not have known the rhythm of my life.
He studied me for a long, silent moment, his chest still glistening with river water.
“You get your morning bread from the eastern stall,” he said quietly. “You always choose the honeyed loaf, even though it cost more. You linger by the river after market hours, but only on Fridays. You speak to yourself when you think no one is listening.”
I stilled.
“How do you know all of that?” I asked slowly.
His gaze did not waver, one brow raising in question.
“Right,” I said sarcastically. “You have been watching me?”
“For your safety,” he countered, stepping closer until the scent of ozone overwhelmed my senses. “And because I could not stay away.”
“How long?”
“Longer than you have been seeing me.”
“You are a stalker,” I said, a breathless laugh escaping my lips.
Talon’s lips pulled down. “I prefer the term observer.”
“That is a synonym!”
Talon waved me off. “Just get some rest, little flame. You can yell at me more when the sun rises.”
A scream of pure frustration bubbled out of my throat. I grasped a heavy fur blanket and hurled it at his bare chest. It smacked him with a soft thud and tumbled to the floor, but he did not flinch.
“Get into the bed, little flame,” he ground out, his voice dropping an octave. “Or I will put you there myself.”
My eyes widened. I knew there was truth to his words—and perhaps a part of me did not want to test his patience any further. I muttered a curse under my breath, scooped the fur aside, and slipped into the cool, silk sheets.
I pointed a finger at him. “Do not—under any circumstances—join me.”
His shoulder quivered with a silent laugh. “Then where, Kaelia? Where should I sleep?”
I turned my nose up, burying myself deeper into the furs. “You can sleep on the riverbank for all I care.”
Talon’s laughter rolled through the cavern, deep and resonant, as he moved toward a side chamber.
Despite the terror of the night, the sound of his laugh caused my own lips to betray me, tipping up just a fraction before I pulled the blankets over my head.