chapter fifteen #2
The stillness that follows is palpable. All my pent-up anger gone, I feel deflated. Vulnerable. A wave of desolate emptiness washes over me, its familiar claws digging into my heart. Somehow, my outburst has left me feeling more hollow than ever.
“Llyr?” Ilyana’s hand lingers on his shoulder for a moment before he brushes it off, his gaze firmly fixed elsewhere, pointedly avoiding both of us.
“There is more to this story than you think,” he says, but I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or Ilyana. He takes a step toward me, Seniia’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. “Why don’t you and I go talk somewhere a bit more private?” There’s a plea in his eyes.
“Why? So you can slap a brace on me again?” I stare at him. “I don’t think so.”
His flinch makes me think that’s exactly what he planned to talk me into.
Crossing my arms, I give him my best version of a threating stare, daring him to touch me.
“I will not be bound by anything or anyone ever again,” I say.
“In fact, I’d rather chop my arm off.” I stare at him, daring him to say another word.
Ilyana clears her throat. “I am sure we can find a solution that suits everyone,” she says diplomatically. “Right, Llyr?” She gives him a sharp look.
“Right,” he says. “But if La?na would listen . . .” He lifts his hands, only to let them drop to his sides in an exasperated gesture, shoulders sagging.
I close my eyes and pray the Reān gods will show me some mercy. The Father sure as ash never did, so I don’t feel too guilty about my sudden conversion.
“Why don’t you use a soulbinding against him, La?na?” Seniia whispers in my ear. Her eyebrows lift in encouragement when I glance at her. “You can do this.”
I search my mind for her exact wording. What was it she said about the C’elēn and their soulbindings the day we met?
“A promise given to a C’elēn cannot be broken, as sure as they cannot break a promise given to you. It’s called a soulbinding.”
A spark of hope ignites inside me. If I can get him to make a promise he will be bound to keep .
. . Come to think of it, I have neither money—unless I count the useless iron pennies, and they’re more likely to cause my death than keep me alive—nor a place to stay.
So maybe . . . maybe if I can stay here knowing I will retain my freedom, that’s a deal I’m willing to make.
Vilder and Seniia will be here. The thought of staying close to them quenches any lingering doubts I might have. I lift my gaze to meet his.
“I’ll come with you on one condition,” I say. “If you promise to let me be a free guest of the Arc, to come and go as I please, and to not let anyone, including yourself, put a brace on me again.”
He glances toward Ilyana, and the fact that he needs her approval almost makes me spin around to leave right then and there.
The only thing that holds me back is the fact that they will no doubt catch me and drag me back here whether I’m willing or not.
My gaze flickers between the two of them, studying their strange interaction.
They’re clearly having a conversation, except they’re not talking out loud.
“Bonded,” Vilder whispers under his breath.
I frown up at him.
“They communicate with . . .” He taps the side of his head, and an understanding dawns upon me. Is there no end to the strange practices of these lands?
After what seems like an eternity, Ilyana shrugs in a way that says she thinks it’s Llyr’s decision to make and takes a step back.
“I promise,” he says as he turns back toward me but looks anywhere but at me.
He can’t be serious. I can’t believe he tried to trick me again! If I didn’t know better, I might have believed him.
“Why don’t you look her in the eyes while you make that promise?” Vilder growls, and the way Llyr scowls in Vilder and Seniia’s direction makes me fear for their first year. All because of me.
Llyr’s gaze locks with mine. “You are a free guest of the Arc,” he says. “You can come and go as you like, and no C’elēn, including me, will place a brace on you without your consent.” He then adds, “As long as you, in return, spend every night here at the Arc. This I promise.”
A jolt passes through my body as his magic wraps itself around me in a binding promise.
It worked! Never mind that I’m not allowed to spend a night elsewhere. I’ll be more than happy to sleep here if it allows me to roam free every day. I can’t hold back a smile, my heart singing with my newfound freedom.
“All right, seekers. With that settled, you can come with me,” Ilyana says, her voice ringing through the hall.
“I am sure C’elēn Llyr and La?na have lots to talk about.
” She begins to walk toward one of the seven corridors leading out from the entrance hall, not bothering to see if Seniia and Vilder follow.
“We’ll find you later,” Seniia whispers, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. She grabs one of her bags, leaving the rest for Vilder yet again.
A laugh escapes my lips when he looks at me and then rolls his eyes at her behind her back, but there’s an amused smile playing around his lips. “Good luck,” he mouths, then hurries after her.
I turn my attention back toward Llyr, who has beckoned one of the Arc’s many servants. I can’t help but stare at their translucent skin—a stark contrast to the blaze of their short, fiery red hair. The servant bows at their waist. “Master C’elēn.”
“Vy, this is La?na.” Llyr gestures toward me, and Vy’s glacial blue gaze sweeps over me, before they offer a polite nod.
“She is a guest at the Arc and will need a room in the guest wing. I want you to be her personal servant and to treat her requests as you would mine, with some exceptions. If she is gone for more than one night, I want to know immediately. Can you promise me this?”
I can tell from the way he holds the servant’s gaze that he is creating another soulbinding. The thought of someone keeping track of me makes my skin crawl, but I stay put. You can live with this, La?na.
Vy nods, then, holding Llyr’s gaze, they add, “I promise,” and once again, I can sense the magic veil that envelops the two of them. It makes my skin tingle in the same way my dagger does when I touch it.
“She will need a new wardrobe,” Llyr adds.
He starts ticking off items on his fingers.
“Several sparring outfits so she can train with the Accepted.” He glances toward me.
“I need you to stay alive,” he says matter-of-factly before turning his attention back to Vy.
“She will also need everyday clothes”—his gaze swipes over me—“and the Riverii style she is wearing suits her fine. Unless you prefer something else?”
I shake my head, not knowing what else to ask for. Having seen some of Seniia’s outfits, I know the Riverii style can be quite revealing, but I’m sure Llyr won’t give me any of that sort.
“Don’t forget to add a formal gown for the annual bonding ball at the fire moon . . .” His eyes narrow in thought for a second. “And add dance lessons to her daily schedule.”
My head snaps in his direction. Ball? I don’t have the faintest idea what to do at a Reān ball.
What etiquette will it require that I don’t know?
I silently seethe inside. All the mistakes I’ve made so far will probably pale compared to what will be required of me at a ball.
And dancing . . . Except for the night of the festival in Bowen, which I must admit I had too much wine to remember much of, I’ve never seen anyone dance.
I don’t even know if I can dance. Music and dancing are as foreign to me as the Reāns.
“Consider it done, Master C’elēn.” Vy bows at their waist again.
“If you ever need Vy,” Llyr informs me with a gesture toward the servant, “there is a bell in your room for you to call upon them.” His gaze shifts away from me, settling on something in the distance. “Now Vy will show you to the guest wing. I have matters to attend to.”
Vy performs another deep bow at the mentioning of their name, and without another word, Llyr spins on his heels and sweeps across the heartstone floor, vanishing through one of the glass doors leading to the gardens.