Chapter 15
Fifteen
Enthralled
Lyra
I failed you as a brother. And I will not fail you again.
Father may not be able to drag you back to Stonebriar yet, but I fear he is working on a way to make that possible. He has become obsessed with your return.
The Southerners are furious and have been rebelling in the streets because your union did not happen, a civil war is nearing. Between that and the reports of entire townships being slaughtered overnight, nowhere is safe.
Please do not leave the barracks. You are safest there.
Stay alive, little sister. I am trying to find a way to help you. Stay safe. Stay alive.
Your brother, Aldric.
Irefolded the missive with unsteady hands, tucking it firmly in the pocket of my leggings. I had read it enough that it was burnt to my memory at this stage, but I couldn’t help staring at my brother’s familiar writing. His words hollowed out my heart. He loved me, yet he had failed to protect me.
The infirmary door squeaked open, the flames of the torches flickering from the draft.
A warm smile spread across Dreya’s face as she sat on the edge of my bed.
She wrapped her arms around me in an embrace.
I stilled beneath her touch before slowly lifting my arms and resting my hands on her back. I was not used to being hugged.
“Thank you,” she whispered into my shoulder. “Riven told me you saved my life.”
“Consider us even,” I replied, hating that a small amount of emotion leached into my voice. Caring for people was a task I was not used to. It felt warm yet cold at the same time, as if I were waiting for it to be taken away.
She pulled back, and her smile was as bright as the excitement in her eyes. “And we won!”
I studied her a moment longer, there was no fear. No suspicion. Just warmth.
My gaze drifted to the puckered skin along her neck. The healers had nearly erased the burns, but she would wear those scars for the rest of her life.
If she noticed me looking at her scar, she didn’t move to hide it. I envied her. She almost wore it with pride. My scars cut too deep emotionally to ever feel like anything other than an open wound.
“Someone developed a water Sanctum, Lyra.” Her face twisted with hatred. “I hope I am there to see them hang.”
My chest ached at Dreya’s words, as though someone had shoved a knife into me and twisted.
It didn’t matter that we were friends. It didn’t matter that I had saved her life.
If she found out it was me, she wouldn’t hesitate to stab me in the back to appease the Gods.
Even if Orin didn’t kill Roman, I would still have to run away. Again.
“Is everything okay?” she asked me curiously, noticing my silence.
Do not leave the barracks. Aldric’s warning echoed like a drumbeat in my skull. I’m sorry, brother, I thought to myself. I’m not good at being told what to do.
A healer broke our uncomfortable silence, a petite girl in dark grey leathers with strawberry-blonde hair. “You are both free to leave. Dinner should still be on in the dining hall. I can show you the way if you’d like?”
Dreya accepted her offer and we followed her through the dimly lit corridors until we stood in front of the familiar doors of the dining hall.
She handed Dreya a small bag, giving her instructions to apply the ointment on her scars twice a day.
I assured her I knew how to care for sutures and would not let my wounds become infected.
We both thanked her and walked into the warmth of the dining hall.
Dreya pointed to a far table where our squad sat. “There they are.”
The fragrance of food made my stomach rumble, and my shoulders relaxed. Knowing I would be leaving forced me to absorb every detail, every moment I might miss wherever Riven planned to take me.
We took our trays of food before taking the empty seats at our squad’s table. I couldn’t help but glance at the empty seat where Hadley had sat. Riven barked a laugh, legs stretched up on the edge of the table as he joked with Bohdi, their fight from earlier obviously behind them.
His mischievous grin spread across his face as he placed a hand over his heart. “As much as I liked seeing you in bed, princess, it’s good to have you join us.”
I rolled my eyes as I sat down, but I felt my cheeks warm despite myself. Dreya threw a piece of bread at Riven; it bounced of his chest and fell to the ground. “So, I get marked up and you’re not going to ask me if I am okay?”
Riven tilted his head, eyes glinting as he leant a little closer. “Where? I hadn’t even noticed.”
She leant over and smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “Jerk” she said, lips twitching into a grin.
“Where is Roman?” I asked, realising he was missing.
“What a good question,” Riven said loudly before shoving a piece of stale bread in his mouth.
Orin shifted in his seat but didn’t say a word. Was Riven right? Had he been taken? Killed?
I ate my dried food as the conversation drifted around me, letting it go despite the sinking feeling in my stomach.
I accidentally bumped one of my bandaged forearms against the table and hissed. I wasn’t used to having visible cuts. Father had instructed the priest to cut my back, where it was easily hidden by my dresses.
Orin caught my eye from across the table, inclining his head to the double doors that led to the balcony. I stood, my chair scraping against the floor as I followed him.
Riven’s eyes watched every step I took.
The cold wind clawed at us as we stepped onto the balcony, the scent of salt and snow thick in the air.
Below us, the Dead Sea churned, black and endless.
Far beyond, the faint flicker of lights marked Stonebriar, the cage I had fled only to fly straight into another. At least this one wasn’t as oppressing.
“Were you lying to me about Roman?” His knuckles gripped the railing so tightly they turned white.
“No,” I said cautiously. “I saw—”
“Lie better, Lyra. I do not want to kill you!” He cut me off, green eyes boring into me with desperation.
His voice cracked, and for a heartbeat, the mask of the dutiful soldier slipped.
Heartbreak stared back at me, and I knew there and then that he wouldn’t spare me if I told him the truth.
My eyes stung, but I refused to let a single tear fall.
His hands found mine, guiding them to his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart thudded against my sweaty palms.
“If I see you wield water, Lyra, it’s my duty to kill you.” His forehead fell to mine, breath trembling. “I have a feeling that it’s you. That you are the cursed one. But I love you. Gods help me, I love you. Even knowing you are evil.”
The words struck my heart like a blade. The first time anyone had ever told me they loved me, and it came wrapped in rejection and threat.
I stepped back, but he caught me, his thumb brushing my cheek as if to erase the hurt he’d just caused—and I let him.
Because I wanted to believe him. Because I was so tired of feeling like a monster.
“What did you do to Roman?” I asked softly.
His sigh washed over my face as his body caged me against the railing. His closeness used to feel intimate. Now? I felt like I was in danger.
“I tortured him until his Sanctum came out,” he said darkly. “It wasn’t water.”
My vision swam, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. He tortured him. Because of me. Because I lied.
Something cold and sharp suddenly pressed against my collarbone. I didn’t need to look to know it was a dagger. I was used to the feeling of a blade pushing against my skin. I ignored the aching I felt in my chest that made tears want to spill down my cheeks.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he pleaded. “Tell me that you didn’t drown the other initiates.” A tear slid down his cheek. His other hand cupped my face, the blade pressing harder.
“Orin, I—”
“Tell me!” he yelled over me, eyes wild. I stared at him helplessly, unable to lie to him. But he knew. A broken sob cracked through his chest as his blade pushed into my skin, blood dripped down my uniform. The power beneath my skin surfaced and instinct took over.
I sang. A soft melody that wove through the air and into Orin’s skin. Into his very soul. His eyes glazed over. The knife slipped from his fingers and clanged against the stone.
“You are wrong, Orin. It was not me,” I said. My voice layered in unearthly tones, and I placed my hand over his. His mouth parted and his face relaxed completely. He looked younger without the constant scowl that had been plastered on his face since I washed ashore.
“You would do anything to protect me,” I told him, willing him to believe me.
He nodded, murmuring the sentence under his breath.
“Because you love me,” I added softly.
“I love you,” he repeated in a soft whisper.
He leant in slowly, vacant eyes reflecting nothing but my power.
His lips pressed against mine, moving them tentatively as though he needed to savour every touch.
I couldn’t tell where my power ended, and I began.
It was wrong. He wasn’t in his right mind, but Gods, I needed this.
I wanted this to be real so desperately.
I looped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer until the world narrowed and only we existed.
His hands slid low over my back, drawing me flush against his hard body as though something had possessed him.
My skin tingled, hot and soothing all at once.
Power sunk into my pores. My hands gripped his waist. His movements became urgent, breath rough as his hand tangled in my hair.
Heat pooled low in my stomach, need over taking all logical thoughts. Gods, I had missed him.
The sensation built, too much, too bright as he pressed me against the rail. My skin prickled as if it might burst into flames. No. Something was wrong. This wasn’t right.
I shoved at his chest, tearing my mouth from his with a sharp, gasping snap.
Orin stared down at me, and a translucent gleam clung to his green eyes, shimmering at me unnaturally. It was almost like he wasn’t him anymore.
The balcony door slammed open. Bohdi bursting through them with his sword in his hands. “The gate’s been breached!”