Chapter 37 Folami
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Folami
Days had passed since Peytor left and I’d broken down behind the closed door, all of my jagged parts raw and exposed.
It felt like a death knell when the door to our room shut, like he was closing the connection we’d fostered and grown over nearly a year together.
A piece of me shriveled and died when he left—a piece I’d given Peytor and didn’t want back for anything. Not unless he returned with it, ready to be fully devoted in our relationship once more.
But how selfish was that of me? To require Peytor’s unwavering love and sole devotion when I was seeking the affections of—falling in love with—two others.
I scoffed with a shake of my head as I made my way through the manor and down the stairs to the Bondsmith’s room. I’d visited Torin earlier this morning to discuss our plans for . . . everything.
It felt like we were balanced on a knife’s edge waiting for something—anything—to happen.
We all agreed Solace would strike soon; it was just a matter of when and how.
We had a thousand plans and contingencies, training nearly from sunup to sundown almost every day, but it still never felt like enough.
The waiting, coupled with losing Peytor, had me itchy and doubtful—two words I never would have used to describe myself in the past—and I could credit most of my growth to Peytor and, more recently, Lex.
He and Ilyas were like breaths of fresh spring air after a long, grueling winter. There was something so easy about my interactions with Lex, something that instantly soothed the jagged pieces of my soul and made living all that more bearable.
I just wished Peytor could see that—could see how well they knew me and helped me, could see the looks Lex sent Peytor’s way that were not so covert, could see that we could all have that together.
Growling in frustration, I knocked on the Bondsmith’s door, perhaps a bit louder and harder than necessary.
It opened instantly, almost as soon as my fist left the wood, and I jerked back in surprise.
The Bondsmith, usually partial to earth-toned pants and tunics, was wrapped in a flattering sapphire dress in the northern style with a boatneck and flared skirt.
Her curls were characteristically piled on top of her head, a few loose and swaying with her sudden movement, and her feet were predictably bare against the grey stone floor.
“I like your dress,” I blurted as soon as she opened the door. Color rose in my cheeks as I mentally admonished myself for the outburst.
Stupid, stupid, stupid . . .
“Thank you, Folami. I’ve been trying on a few different options for Torin and Ellowyn’s wedding. Would you like to help me?” Her invite was innocuous enough, but the speed at which the door opened made me believe she’d known I’d visit.
I stepped cautiously into the room before toeing off my boots, not wanting to track mud and grime into her relatively pristine bedroom.
Apart from the mess of books and oddities, her space was clean and tidy.
Itanya’s art dotted the walls, nearly covering them in the same way as our bedroom.
That small touch had a smile pulling at my lips and relaxing my shoulders instantly.
“This is my first option. I think it complements my skin tone well, don’t you?” the Bondsmith called as she retreated farther into her room, veering toward the two armchairs that comprised her adjoining sitting room.
“It looks lovely,” I admitted, following the half-goddess with my hands clasped behind my back.
“There is also this option”—she held up a voluminous forest-green dress—“but I’m not sure I prefer the skirt.”
I wrinkled my nose involuntarily, and the Bondsmith laughed, a loud, carefree sound.
“I’ll take it you agree.” She tossed the offending garment in a pile on the floor.
“Or I have this one.” The goddess held up a black, skintight floor-length dress with a low-cut neckline. My cheeks heated as my eyes widened, the beads in my braids clacking with the shake of my head.
“It’s just not . . . right,” she said with a shrug, tossing it aside to join the green dress.
“What is Ellowyn planning to wear?” the Bondsmith asked suddenly, throwing me completely. I stuttered and shook my head.
“I—I’m not quite sure?”
“Didn’t she and Peytor leave a few days ago for Vespera to shop for dresses? Surely he would have communicated with you by now?” Her question was light and offhanded, but her gaze was pointed. Clearly, the Bondsmith knew of our troubles, and this was her way of fishing for information.
Clever goddess.
I chuffed a rueful laugh and shook my head again.
“Let’s not play coy, Bondsmith,” I said, her smile dropping instantly. “We both know he left on less than favorable terms.”
“That’s not the way I heard it,” she said with a shrug. My blood boiled with her casual indifference, with the insinuation that my hurt didn’t matter. That Peytor’s pain was inconsequential.
“And how did you hear it?” I gritted between my teeth, nails biting into my palms.
The Bondsmith raised an eyebrow as she continued to sort through her dresses, as if this conversation held no emotion.
“I heard that he left so you could be free to explore your connection with Lex and Ilyas without him interfering. Without his presence as a distraction or deterrent. A way for you to truly see how you felt without your love for him clouding your judgement.”
Her words cut me straight to the quick, and I tumbled back a step as my ire drained.
“I also heard that he cried for hours in Torin and Ellowyn’s room before they left together. Apparently, Ellowyn wasn’t even going to travel to Vespera, but did it because she loves her brother. Loves you.” There was that pointed look again.
My heart dropped to my knees as exhaustion crashed over me in waves.
“I never wanted him to leave,” I mumbled, grief-stricken again that Peytor thought he had to leave—for me.
“But he did,” the Bondsmith said with a shrug. “Because he cares for you enough to let you make your own choices. Isn’t that something you’ve been so—what’s the word? Adamant about?”
“How is choosing to Bond with Lex my own choice?” I ground out, temper flaring again before faltering just as quickly. “This stupid connection is making us gravitate toward each other.”
“Careful, Folami,” the Bondsmith’s voice darkened as her expression hardened. “Careful what you say about True Bonds. Meru granted them as a way to heal the magic in Elyria, and it can take them away just as quickly.”
I gulped past a stone in my throat, nodding my head in acknowledgement.
The Bondsmith’s face cleared once more as if that thundering anger was never even present.
“Just because the Bond draws you together, does that make your connection any less true?”
I blinked at her words, surprised at the truth that rattled around my mind with that statement.
The Bondsmith smiled knowingly at me, hands pausing their perusal of other gowns.
“You know that it’s okay to forgive, Folami.
” Her voice was soft, cajoling. One that had my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I wanted to forgive, maybe already even had, but I’d clung to my anger for so long that I wore it now like a second skin.
“It’s okay to let go of what’s no longer serving you. ”
Could I, though? Could I release my anger over my Forced Bond, over the torture that I received at his hands? Could I separate him from Lex in my mind if we were to Bond?
“Just something to think about,” she said with a shrug, turning back to her gowns as if she didn’t just push my world off its axis.