Chapter 10 Peytor
Chapter Ten
Peytor
The door reverberated against the stone wall, revealing the Bondsmith’s statuesque figure as Torin and I practically fell into the bedroom.
Clad in an ivory tunic and deep-brown pants, she resembled any of the thousands of followers we’d amassed over the past months.
But there was something so other about her, it was impossible to mistake her for a simple rebel.
Despite the otherworldliness, my gaze was pulled to the stricken look on Ellowyn’s face.
The color had drained completely, leaving her skin sallow and waxy, even as her eyes sharpened into something fierce.
It was the first time I’d seen my sister in the flesh since that fateful day in Hestin when she ripped Finian’s soul from this plane.
Even after months of dissecting my emotions and separating Ellowyn from the event that changed my life, I still expected the rush of hot, vitriolic anger that would run rampant through my veins, turning me into a person I no longer recognized.
Instead, there was only soul-deep, heart-wrenching pain. Some from the loss of my lover and best friend. But the harder I looked, the more I realized that the agony radiating through every atom of my being was now caused by the time that had been taken from me and my sister.
We were no longer the same people. Siblings still, but any of the innocence we once possessed was long gone, destroyed by a singular man with a god complex and the unending thirst to see humanity burn if it meant fulfilling his own prophecies.
What would our lives have been like if Lord d’Refan had never taken an interest in my sister? If his shadow never darkened our halls? Would we still be in Hestin, living out our lives, oblivious to the suffering and malcontent that plagued Elyria?
Blood and other dried bodily fluids matted her once brilliant blonde hair to her skull.
The same matter was ingrained in every fiber of her stiff black tunic, causing it to nearly shine in the low light of the oil lamps lit by Fire Magic.
There was the faint outline of a rune tattoo on her inner right forearm and thin, small white scars along both her arms and hands.
While the physical differences between the sister I once knew and the woman sitting in Torin’s bed were stark, the greatest change came in the set of her jaw and the hardness of her eyes.
Gone was the naive girl I grew up with—the one who loved dresses and was always too focused on others’ opinions.
That girl was long dead. All that remained in her steel-grey eyes that were so like my own—like our father’s—was a steely determination and a thirst for vengeance.
Lord d’Refan took a despondent girl and created a weapon of a woman.
“Hello, Peytor,” Ellowyn called softly from the bed, her eyes trained solely on me. Torin huffed in evident irritation at being ignored, and my lips twitched at my friend’s petulance.
Ellowyn tore her eyes from me for a moment to fix him with a glare that would wither the strongest of men. I chuckled then and clasped Torin’s shoulder before whispering in his ear, “You’re in for it now, brother.”
Torin huffed a dry laugh before shrugging out of my hold.
“Hello, Ellowyn,” I returned, not daring to come closer to her bed.
The Bondsmith blinked owlishly as she tossed her gaze from Torin and me before glancing back at Ellowyn.
“Well, this is officially the most awkward reunion I have ever encountered,” she deadpanned wryly before striding to the hidden door on the wall that connected her room to Torin’s. “You have some explaining to do, godling,” she called as she left the room, the door snicking shut in the quiet space.
“Did she mean you or me?” Ellowyn asked Torin with a raised eyebrow.
I felt Torin shift uncomfortably next to me, his leather boots creaking with the motion. He carved one large palm through his already disheveled dark blond hair before gripping the back of his increasingly red neck.
Torin, Lord of Iluul and the rebellion, was embarrassed. It was an emotion I’d never seen him wear before, and I found it oddly endearing. A quick glance at Ellowyn proved I was the only one who felt that way, however.
“So you know,” he said quietly.
Ellowyn simply blinked in an exaggerated movement before turning her gaze back to me. “I’m not in the mood to speak to him right now.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And what do you propose I do about it, Queen d’Refan? These are his rooms after all,” I said, sweeping my arms out to the sides to gesture to the quite tackily decorated space.
Ellowyn wrinkled her nose before throwing the covers back, exposing just as soiled trousers and, thankfully, bare feet. She pushed shakily, yet surprisingly steady, from the bed, and my lips turned down in disgust at the mess that was left behind on the sheets.
Neither Torin nor I moved as she slowly made her way across the plush carpet that covered the majority of the grey stone floor.
She winced a few times as her muscles stretched and spasmed, but she never faltered or halted her progress until she stood close enough to Torin that their chests nearly bumped.
His cream tunic moved with the frantic beat of his heart, and I watched in rapt fascination as he bent slightly forward as if drawn by an invisible string to my sister.
“Ell,” he rasped quietly, hands hovering above her hips.
To my surprise, Ellowyn leaned forward just enough to touch her lips softly to his in a brief, almost-kiss.
Torin’s eyes closed in relief and contentment, but instantly flew open when Ellowyn reared back suddenly and cracked her palm across his cheek.
A bright pink handprint began to immediately bloom from where she struck him. Torin stood still in shock, his hands still hovering in the now-empty space where Ellowyn once stood.
A laugh started low in my belly, boiling and gaining momentum as it worked its way up my throat until it exploded out of my mouth in a loud, sharp burst.
Ellowyn and Torin remained unfazed, the former glaring at the latter with the intensity of a thousand suns while he looked at her like she was the sun.
I’m fairly confident that slap only made him fall further in love with her.
I simply continued laughing; now that I started it felt hard to stop. Like a dam was finally bursting—the relief of my loved ones surviving the Battle of Vespera, combined with bubbling panic I felt over the unexpected guests Folami brought back to Lishahl.
Torin peeled his eyes from Ellowyn with a sigh as I struggled to contain my mirth.
“I’m going to bathe,” Ellowyn announced. “I would like the sheets changed and for him to stop braying like a donkey”—she gestured lazily in my direction, but I didn’t miss the slight uptick of her lips—“by the time I return.”
“Will you slap me again if neither of those things happens?” There was an undercurrent of heat to Torin’s wry question. Ellowyn’s eyes widened before she scowled again.
“Gross,” I gasped through my wheezes.
Ellowyn turned with a huff that was much less annoyed than she intended and strode to the bathroom, closing herself inside. Minutes later, I heard the telltale sounds of the copper tub filling with magically heated water.
“Gods, she smelled,” I chortled, finally standing straight and wiping the tears from beneath my eyes. Torin turned to me with death written in his gaze.
I held my hands up in supplication. “I’m just stating the obvious, Torin. You could have at least washed her before laying her in bed.”
Torin pursed his lips before moving to strip the linens from the bed. “I didn’t want to . . . touch her without her knowing. It didn’t seem right.”
I finally sobered with his words as I helped him find new linens and remake the bed. These were old and smelled faintly of dust, but they at least didn’t carry the stench of death. With a casual flick of his wrist, flames shot from Torin’s palm and incinerated the offending pile of bedsheets.
“You’ve seen her naked. Of anyone, you’re the only one that could have helped her without repercussions,” I said as we stretched the sheet over the mattress.
Torin was silent for a moment as we worked before he shook his head just as we were encasing the pillows in fresh cases.
“No. I didn’t want to take that liberty.”
I hummed softly as we replaced the blanket and fluffy monstrosity the Lord of Lishahl called a comforter.
“That’s . . . rather noble of you,” I said, turning down the covers as Torin crossed his arms.
“She means more to me than anything else. Surely you know that by now.” He pinned me with a gaze that spoke a thousand words and held a myriad of emotions.
“Yes, Torin. I know that now,” I said quietly.
“Good.” He nodded his head. “Because I’m going to burn the world down for her, if she’ll let me.”
Deep in our conversation, we didn’t hear the water shut off or the tub drain, so we both jumped in surprise at Ellowyn’s clear voice.
“No one will be burning anything for me,” she stated, voice hard and unyielding. “I will be doing that myself.”