Chapter 80 Folami #2
“You think that—” I trailed off, bile rising in my throat as I thought about what they could have done to my little girl.
The Bondsmith’s eyes glinted with fierceness as her gaze held mine. “They value blood above all else, and Razia was a rather devout student of the old ways. If they felt she could be the one to fulfill the prophecy—” The Bondsmith shrugged. “I don’t doubt or discredit anything.”
“Then we need to go get her before anything else can happen,” Peytor said quickly with a fire in his eyes that had the cold seeping from my extremities, warmth bubbling at the fierce loyalty and love he showed my daughter—showed me—despite the recent uneasiness in our relationship.
A muscle in Peytor’s jaw ticked rapidly, matching the glinting steel in his gaze.
I knew that expression well—demons were eating at his mind, threatening to pull him into memories from his months in the mines.
He’d repressed them well, and we’d discussed much of what had happened, but that was the horrible thing about trauma—it never fully disappeared and left the sufferer a slave to its whims, a prisoner to their memories.
I longed to go to him, pull him in my arms and soothe the hurt away. But I was stuck in my seat, unsure of the status of our relationship and frozen by my grief.
As if recognizing the same, Lex’s tanned hand came to cover Peytor’s much paler and broader one, squeezing in reassurance as he nodded curtly in agreement.
“Our quad will go,” he said with a surety I once felt. “Me, Ilyas, Peytor and”—his eyes flicked to me, holding my gaze—“Fo, if she desires.”
“Quad?” Torin asked.
Peytor’s cheeks pinked slightly, though he didn’t pull away from Lex as I expected him to.
“Yes,” Lex responded curtly, effectively closing the conversation and leaving no room for debate.
Talamh’s and Torin’s eyebrows rose, but neither of them made any further comment.
“We can—” Lex began speaking again, his brow furrowed in thought as he pontificated on the logistics of the four of us traveling.
“No.” The Bondsmith held a singular palm in Lex’s direction, silencing my Bonded.
Lightning flashed in Peytor’s eyes as thunder followed in Lex’s.
“No?” Lex hissed. “What do you mean no?”
“This is not your child. It’s Folami’s daughter. My daughter. Lex’s and Ilyas’. You had the opportunity to keep her safe and. You. Failed,” Peytor clipped out, the muscle in his jaw jumping once more.
I followed the whole exchange with a sort of disjointed curiosity. I should care—I did care—but it was hard for me to conjure the right emotions, the right amount of outrage. The apathy that shadowed everything else was more rage-inducing than whatever was happening at the table currently.
The Bondsmith flinched as if physically struck by Peytor’s accusation.
“I am . . . aware of my shortcomings—”
“Are you? Are you truly aware of what you’ve done?
You’ve subjected a young girl to a life she didn’t ask for, pain she will never be able to forget.
You’ve driven a wedge between relationships and sent Folami so far down a path of despair that I’m unsure she’ll ever fully recover,” Peytor said, rising to his feet as he spoke, a myriad of emotions coating every word.
He sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Lex shot him a tight-lipped smile before his hand disappeared beneath the table to rub soothing patterns on Peytor’s thigh.
“You were supposed to be on our side,” Torin said lowly, his honeyed eyes searching for hints of deception in the Bondsmith’s crystal-blue eyes.
She shook her curly head.
“As I told your wife, I am an immortal being—I do not choose sides. Not in any conflict or situation. There are things I want—things that need to happen that are far beyond any of your comprehension. I act according to those whims, according to Fate’s desires.
Nothing more and nothing less. Are there people I care about?
”—her eyes flicked to mine, holding my gaze with an intensity that made me squirm in my seat—“Yes. And I will do what I must to make sure they are safe and fulfill every inch of their destinies.”
“You knew this would happen.” The accusation came, surprisingly, from Talamh.
The Bondsmith sighed and nodded tightly, eliciting hissing reactions from the other three men at the table.
“I had an idea, yes. I had a choice—save her or ward the caverns. I chose saving thousands of lives versus one, chose saving the rebellion over immediate annihilation from my crazed sister.”
“But, Itanya . . . she thought of you, thinks of you, as her grandmother. What grandmother sacrifices her granddaughter as easily—” Lex said.
“I never said it was easy, Mage,” the Bondsmith hissed dangerously.
Lex, wisely, stopped talking.
“So, what are you proposing then, Goddess?” Torin asked, his face carefully blank. “If this was all necessary”—the doubt was heavily obvious—“then what is the solution? You’ve stated Lex and his quad cannot go. So why? And who are to fill their places?”
“No, they cannot.” The Bondsmith shook her head. “The people of the Far North are not a . . . trusting bunch. If Lex, Peytor, Ilyas, and Folami were to go, they would be killed on sight, before they even knew they were in the vicinity of the village.”
“Again, who would go in their place? It’s not as if we have the soldiers to spare and send as an attack.”
“I will go,” the Bondsmith said, straightening her spine as if expecting outrage.
When none was expressed, she relaxed slightly before continuing.
“Razia and I are the only two that I know of who have crossed the Ice Shelf and lived. There are . . . secret passages through the ice, passages that only he and I know of, imbued with ancient magic that I can circumvent.”
“Just because you traversed the Ice Shelf doesn’t mean these people will accept you freely,” Talamh countered.
A wicked smile spread across the goddess’ face. “I was once their matriarch, Prince. They will more than accept me, they’ll welcome me with open arms.”
An unsettling silence fell across the table once more as we all sat with the information the Bondsmith revealed.
Lex drummed his fingers on the table in an off-cadence rhythm, his brown eyes constantly canvassing my form as if waiting for me to crack and break at any moment.
With every minute, the tension increased until it was a palpable thing, ready to explode with a wrong word or gesture.
Peytor shifted uncomfortably, his eyebrows drawn downward as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Okay,” I said, cutting him off. I shifted in my chair as all eyes flew to me. “Okay,” I reiterated. “The Bondsmith will go and retrieve Itanya before returning here with her once more.”
The Bondsmith nodded her head in thanks.
“But,” I continued, “I want to make a bargain with you, Bondsmith.”
Protests immediately erupted from Peytor, Lex, and Torin, their desire to protect me nearly suffocating.
Talamh, ever the stoic observer, simply cocked his head at me in curiosity. He finally silenced the slowly growing volume of voices with one raised palm.
“I think we need to trust Folami to make the best decision for herself, don’t you?” he asked, his penetrating, calm stare forcing each of the men back in their seats. Peytor and Lex sat with heavy thunks, but Torin remained standing. Magic sparked in his eyes as he regarded me.
“You’re sure, Fo?”
I nodded once, turning my attention to a curious Bondsmith.
“What are your terms?”
I inhaled deeply. “I want your word that she returns here safe and unharmed. That you will do everything in your power to ensure that she returns to me.”
“And in return?”
“In return, I will forgive you.”
The Bondsmith paused, her shrewd eyes scanning my face for something.
“You assume your forgiveness means that much to me.”
“No, I assume that you need Itanya for something. That you will need me to relinquish her back to you at some point. And you know I will not allow that—no matter who or what Itanya has turned into—if I have not yet forgiven you.”
My voice cracked, unused to talking this much.
A glass of water was pushed in front of me, and I sipped it gratefully.
My gaze slipped from where the Bondsmith sat pondering my terms to Lex, who had moved to the bar cart against the far wall.
He shot me a soft smile as he filled a crystal glass with amber liquid for each of the men at the table.
Each accepted with a grumble of thanks before the alcohol was tossed back, none of them taking their time to savor the whiskey inside.
“You’re rather clever, Folami d’Talionis,” the Bondsmith said with pride and a disbelieving shake of her head.
I smiled into my cup of water, both at her compliment and the use of Lex’s last name.
I was unsure if she was the first to refer to me in such a way, but it was the first time I remembered hearing it.
I liked it much more than I ever thought I would. My cheeks heated in pleasure.
“Do you understand that she may return . . . altered, from her time in Oathic? There will be hurt there I cannot fix. I cannot promise she will be the same girl you remember. But I can promise that she will receive no further harm at my hands.”
I nodded sharply, not wanting to dwell on the trauma my beautiful, intelligent daughter suffered.
“I accept your bargain,” the Bondsmith said once receiving my confirmation.
Immediately, the air warmed, and a burning sensation erupted on the back of my right hand. I hissed in pain, much to Lex and Peytor’s alarm, and pulled my hand off my cup to see a pitch-black rune etched into the skin.
The Bondsmith flashed me her hand, the mark a stark contrast to her creamy complexion.
“It is done,” she said, pushing to a stand. “May Fate watch over and guide us all.”
No one said a word as she pushed in her chair, a scraping echoing throughout the stone room.
“Oh, Folami?” she said, nearly at the door.
Four heads turned to regard the goddess.
“Itanya will not be what she was when she left, but you need to be. That quick mind and sharp tongue? The way you love so fiercely and are steadfast? Unbreakable?” Her eyes searched mine, imploring me to understand.
“She will need that. More than anything, she needs the mother she’s always known. Remember that.”
The Bondsmith’s dramatic statement was punctuated by the sound of the door shutting softly behind her, the latch clicking loudly in the quiet that hung between us.