CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The iron doors of the manor were flung open with a reverberating crash that echoed into the storm, and the night answered as if summoned.
Rain descended in sheets, a relentless curtain of silver that blurred the world beyond the threshold into a shifting haze.
The air was so cold it burned as it entered my lungs.
I barely had time to steady myself before hands seized me.
Fingers twisted into the fabric of my tunic and wrenched hard, and the floor vanished beneath my feet.
I was thrown forward into the downpour, my body striking the rain-slick stone with a jarring crack that sent shock rippling up my spine.
My knees slid, skin scraping, palms scrambling for purchase as the threshold gave way beneath the torrent.
For a moment, I remained on my hands and knees, rain hammering against my bowed head, soaking through cloth and skin until I could not tell where the storm ended and I began. My hair clung to my face in thick strands, water slipping down the curve of my jaw and dripping from my quivering chin.
Slowly, I lifted my head.
The plaza stretched before me, transformed into a living, heaving mass of bodies and torchlight. The flames hissed and spat beneath the assault of rain, casting fractured amber light across thousands of faces turned in my direction.
A thousand eyes.
A thousand judgments.
The guards hauled me upright, their grips bruising, but I straightened of my own accord before they could force me to.
My legs trembled—from cold, from exhaustion, from the knowledge of what awaited at the center of the square—yet I locked my spine and refused to bow beneath the weight of it.
If I was to be made an example before them, I would not kneel.
The roar of the crowd reached me in waves. It swelled and broke like the sea against stone, punctuated by the high wails of children and the angry barking of dogs straining at their leashes.
I searched for my mother, even as logic screamed at me to look away. I had told myself I did not want her here—that I did not want her final memory of me to be my neck bent over grain and steel. Yet a selfish, childlike part of me still ached for the sight of her face.
I did not want to die alone.
The guards hauled me toward the steps, the wood groaning beneath our weight as we ascended.
My body felt strangely distant—simultaneously too light and too heavy—as if my spirit were already untethering from my skin.
I let them drag me, my vision narrowing until all I could see was the dark, water-swollen block waiting for my neck.
They threw me to my knees, the skin tearing as it dragged across splintered wood. I winced, my stomach rolling in a sickening wave as my eyes latched onto the dark, ancient bloodstains etched into the grain of the platform.
“Lady Kaelia! Is it true?”
I lifted my head, rain streaming into my eyes and stinging the raw skin of my face.
At the front of the square stood a young man, his cloak half-slipped from his shoulder.
“Is what true?” I managed.
A woman stepped forward beside the boy, her hair streaked with gray and plastered to her forehead.
“The broadcast,” she cried out. “Have the wandering souls been fed to the Veythar? Did the High Court put them in those chambers?”
I swallowed hard, my gaze moving across the collage of faces. The torches hissed in the downpour, casting a sickly orange light over people.
“It is true.”
A loud rumble rose from the front rows, spreading through the square until it was a roar that rivaled the thunder. People surged against the base of the platform, their shoulders slamming into the wood.
“The Lunthra bond is a lie!” I called out, my voice straining to carry over the storm.
A wave of shocked murmurs rolled through the front rows.
I leaned over the edge, my fingers digging into the wood until the splinters bit into my palms.
“It is a fabrication to keep you afraid. There is no such thing. A soul either accepts a match, or they are bound to their true soulmate—the only real Sayel bond. The Court has been condemning the truly bound to keep their own power—”
A piercing shriek tore through the air, cutting of the rest of my words. The sound was so absolute it forced the crowd to buckle, thousands of bodies doubling over as hands clamped over ears
I winced, my gaze snapping toward the Great Hall.
High above the massive stone wall, a concealed mechanism groaned open, and a wall of water began to plummet from the roof. It descended in a shimmering sheet, the surface of the water warping and rippling until a pale, translucent form began to take shape within the cascade.
Lord Evander’s face filled the curtain of water, a mountain of silver light that stretched toward the storm.
His features were cast in deep shadow, the falling water giving the illusion that his skin was constantly shifting, a ghost made of rain.
His eyes, enormous and unblinking, stared down at the plaza.
“People of Haelen,” his voice boomed. “We hear your anger.”
My fingers tightened around the platform as I waited for him to twist the truth.
“For generations, our sole purpose has been to protect you,” Evander continued, his wrinkled features unmoving. “To keep the balance between our city and the darkness beyond.”
“You tell lies!” an elderly woman screamed, stepping into the torchlight. “You had my granddaughter murdered!”
Another man stepped forward, raising his torch. “And my son!”
Lord Evander’s face remained blank, his speech continuing.
“Every sacrifice was made to ensure the survival of our species.”
As he spoke, my eyes caught sight of a dark spot at the bottom of the cascade.
Behind the veil of falling water, a small form darted out, moving in a quick blur around the edge of the building. I squinted through the rain, tracing the shape of unruly grey hair as it hopped onto the Thrynn bridge.
A hysterical laugh escaped me, the sound lost in the storm.
Meliory had escaped.
As he vanished into the fog, a hand tangled into my hair, yanking my head back with enough force to make my neck pop.
“Focus on the Lord when he speaks,” the guard spat into my ear.
I cried out, my wrists straining against the silver cuffs until the metal bit into my skin, desperate to claw at him. But before I could wrench away, the guard let out a strangled shriek. His grip vanished as he was flung backward, his body hitting the wood with a heavy thud.
The scent of wet stone was instantly swallowed by the smell of scorched earth and old smoke.
I whipped around, my breath hitching. A rope of spirits materialized in the air—inky, translucent wisps knotted tail-to-tail like a living lash.
My eyes followed the line of shadow down the platform, across the square, and toward the river.
Hundreds of Veythar were crossing the bridge, their cloaks billowing behind them. They carried no weapons—no blades, no spears—yet their presence was just as intimidating.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I searched the mass of dark cloaks for the one man who had never let me stand alone.
Talon stood at the center of his kin. The tattoos snaking up his neck glowed a blue so fierce it verged on blinding white.
His jaw was a hard, immovable line, his fingers twitching at his sides.
With a sharp jerk of his arm, a cry erupted from behind me.
I turned to see the guard writhing on the planks, his legs kicking in a childlike tantrum.
“Stop,” the man croaked, his face turning a bruised purple. “Tell him to stop!”
The second guard stood frozen, his sword trembling so violently it rattled in his grip.
As the Veythar reached the square, the mob parted, heads bowing. The Veythar strode through wordlessly, their faces set in identical masks of stone.
Talon reached the base of the stairs, his presence radiating a heat that finally pushed back the chill in my bones.
“Evander,” Talon boomed. “You hide behind a twinkling image. Are you too cowardly to face the one you tried to have murdered?”
A thousands murmurs broke rippled through the crowd, a young man close to the platform shrieking, “they tried to murder a Veythar?”
On the wall, Lord Evander’s watery image cleared its throat, his features rippling. “No, Master Veyr. But I suppose if it came down to a fight, I am at an unfair disadvantage.”
Talon’s head tilted, his eyes finally locking onto mine. The intensity in them nearly brought me to my knees.
“You have no qualms taking advantage of the weak when the fight is rigged,” he countered, taking the first step up the platform. “Two guards against one bound woman, backed by an angry mob? That is not an execution, Evander. That is a homicide.”
The remaining guard balked, extending his sword in a shaky hand until the tip rested just below Talon’s chin.
Talon did not flinch. He walked directly into the blade, his eyes a calm storm. The steel pierced the skin of his neck, a single bead of blood blooming against the glowing blue of his tattoos. Behind me, the spirits let out a high, mournful squeal of protest.
“Master—” the guard stammered.
“You do not frighten me,” Talon said. His words were directed to Evander, but his gaze never left mine. “But you almost made a diabolical mistake. One that would have ended with the decimation of your entire realm.”
Evander’s projection blanched, his wrinkled face leaning forward until his beard was cropped from the frame. “Is that a threat?”
Talon smirked. He jerked his head to the side, and the spirits answered, surging forward like a wave of shadow to slap the sword from the guard’s hand.
“No,” Talon said softly, taking the final step to reach me. “It is a fact.”
He flicked his wrist and the inky wisps dove to my hands, tightening around the cuffs until the silver snapped and clinked to the soaked wood.
A single shadowy figure swept past my cheek with an ethereal sigh, and I leaned into the cool, ghostly touch, a sob of relief catching in my throat.
Talon’s hand settled atop my head, his fingers stroking the wet, matted curls away from my forehead.
“Little flame,” he murmured.
I looked up at him through wet lashes, my chest aching with the sudden urge to break apart.
“Talon,” I croaked.
His eyes flashed, his hand tightening slightly in my hair.
“Get off the ground,” he commanded, though his voice was thick with an underlying tenderness. “No one should ever see you on your knees except me.”
I scrambled up, my fingers digging into his leather-clad legs for leverage until I could slump into his side. His arm banded around my waist instantly, hauling me flush against him, tucking me under his chin as he turned to face the city.
“Haelen!” he shouted. “Acknowledge this: while this means war, innocent lives will not be taken by my hand.”
I rested my head against the sharp line of his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—smoke and rain.
“Your council does not care for your lives,” he continued, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “And we refuse to allow them to use the Veythar as a shield for their rot.”
The grey-haired woman from the front row slapped her palm against the wood of the platform. “How can you promise that, Master? War takes everyone!”
He looked down at her and nodded. “We have given you our word. Now, it is between the people and the High Court to decide the next move.”
“Is it true, Master Veyr?” a young man called out, raising a flickering torch. “Are you and Lady Kaelia truly bound?”
Talon looked down at me, his eyes warming until the blue glow seemed to soften. “I will let my woman do the talking.”
I could not look at the crowd, not when this man looked at me like I was the only thing left in a burning world. Instead of words, I rose on my toes and pressed my lips to his.
The sigh that left me was entirely involuntary, and the feeling of being in his arms again had a tear rolling down my cheek.
“I love you,” I whispered against his lips. “In this lifetime and everyone after.”
He growled low in his throat, his hands dropping to my waist to pull me even closer. “Forever, little flame. And even that is not long enough.”
The world vanished for a moment—the rain, the guards, the mob—until a furious shriek from the Great Hall shattered the peace. I fell back onto my heels, turning to find Evander’s projection vibrating with rage, his face a furious red.
“Kaelia Vaser!” he roared. “You are hereby exiled from Haelen. If you are ever seen crossing the bridge again, you will be executed on sight!”
A phantom pain twisted in my chest. I would never forage these woods again. I would never see the familiar glow of my family’s hearth. But as I looked at Talon, the weight of the loss felt small. I would not barter my soul for a cage, no matter how familiar the bars.
I turned back to the crowd, my spine straight. “Let this be an example of what a true bond looks like. The Sayel knows no bounds—Veythar or mortal—and I hereby declare that Umbral will no longer accept the bound who are discarded by this city!”
A loud roar of cheers escaped the crowd. Talon smiled down at me proudly, bringing an excited flush to my cheeks, and led me down the stairs.
As we descended, hands clapped on our shoulders, and heads bowed.
“Kaelia! Kaelia!”
We walked through the tunnel of Veythar, the dark cloaks forming a wall of protection that did not end until we reached the mouth of the bridge.
In the furthest corner, huddled against the river’s edge, I saw them.
I broke from Talon’s hold and lunged forward. My mother’s arms were around me before I could speak, her breath hot and rattling against my neck.
“Go,” my father rasped, his hand landing on my shoulder. “Go, and do not look back, Kaelia.”
“I will find a way,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “I will find a way back to you.”
“No,” my mother sobbed, pulling back just enough to frame my face in her trembling hands. “Just live. You stay on that side of the water and you live.”
I looked over at Lyra. She offered a watery smile, her face pale against the dark sky. I screwed my eyes shut, the reality of the bridge—the border between my past and my future—finally settling in.
“I love you all,” I rasped.
My mother cried, her thin arms wrapping across her stomach. My father draped his arm across her shoulder, tucking her face into his side and smoothing out her hair.
“We are proud of you, Kaelia,” he said, his voice thick. “Even if you have given us the fright of our lives.”
I bit my lip, forcing back the mention of the witch and the lies that had led us here.
“Goodbye,” I whispered, turning toward the bridge where Talon waited, his hand extended, ready to lead me into the dark.