Chapter 47 Rohak
Rohak
“Do you want to talk about it?” Faylinn’s soft voice broke me from my staring contest with the black wall.
The glass was no longer strewn across the floor; Faylinn had swept and discarded the remnants while I was incapacitated.
The blood splatters were gone, wiped away like the remnants beneath my nose.
It was like my outburst had never happened at all.
But I knew differently. And so did Faylinn.
That release of anger, my near fuckup, cost me more than either of us was willing to admit out loud.
Reaching for my Destruction Magic like that, letting it nearly consume me, threw me into the second stage of Mage Sickness.
Even now, I could feel the headache pounding behind my eyes, had to fight the near-constant desire to lie down and sleep.
After my little fainting spell, I was afraid that if I gave in to the need, I wouldn’t wake up.
I’d be like Ben and either waste away to nothing, finally consumed by the sickness, or force Faylinn to Life Bond me to some unsuspecting Vessel.
All of my previous romantic notions of refusing a Vessel were completely negated by this new development. Faylinn couldn’t be my Bonded—not only was she not a Destruction Vessel, but she had no magic at all.
To save myself, I had to sacrifice my deepening affection for the woman who sat across from me, her eyes intense and worried.
She picked at the white bandage that crisscrossed over her fingers and around her hand, stopping just past her wrist. I winced slightly at the motion, the guilt of my actions threatening to consume me whole.
I did that. In my rage, my Destruction Magic had wound around her fingers and hand, caressing enough to eat away at the first layer of skin, leaving blisters and open wounds in its wake.
“Stop,” she said, her eyes suddenly hard and pleading. I pulled my gaze away from the bandage to look at her, willing her to see the remorse in my eyes. “Stop blaming yourself. I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t fine. She was hurt and nearly dead, again, because of me.
“You lost control. It’s not you, it’s the sickness,” she reiterated sternly with a slight shake of her head.
I pushed my sweaty hair back with a shaky hand, desperately clutching at the strands at the back of my head, willing to feel some inkling of the pain I caused Faylinn.
There was no amount of time that would pass that would make me feel less remorseful for my actions against her.
Just one of the litany of reasons for her to hate me.
And yet, here she sat in the armchair across from me. She’d draped the blanket over my lap, tucking it tightly into my sides while I slept. How she pulled me from the ground to the chair was a question for another time, but I was grateful she’d exerted herself to make me comfortable.
“Tell me of the library,” I rasped, needing a distraction from my spiraling thoughts.
Faylinn sighed, sitting back in her chair and tucking her bare feet under her body.
She propped her head on one hand, errant curls escaping her bun to cascade around her face with the motion, before regarding me with an indecipherable look.
Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and I realized she was trying to puzzle me out.
“Fine,” she finally said, and I relaxed minutely, hoping she wouldn’t force me to discuss why I had devolved so rapidly. “Under one condition.”
No such luck.
“You tell me what happened with Lord d’Refan.”
I blew out a breath, placing my shaky hand back in my lap.
“Deal,” I said, even though the words were like knives in my throat. Faylinn already didn’t trust Alois and, after I explained what happened, I knew there would be no redeeming him in her eyes. She was justified in her wariness; I’d give her that.
Faylinn settled back in her chair, content with my answer, and began to tell me of the scrolls and books she delved into while I was arguing with Alois.
Slowly, the tension she was carrying in her shoulders eased, her whole body relaxing as her eyes lit up with excitement as she discussed her findings.
She was radiantly beautiful—the spark of intelligence and intrigue made her eyes shine, pulling me further into their depths. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop listening to her if I tried, so caught up in everything that was Faylinn.
“Don’t you think that’s weird?” she asked, her brows furrowed with the weight of the puzzle she found in the library. I shook myself from my daze, realizing too late that I hadn’t caught the last part of her statement.
“I’m sorry, say that again,” I said, this time refusing to get lost in the depths of her soul.
Faylinn’s face softened in understanding.
“Is it your head? Making it hard to concentrate?” She was worried about me, that much was evident, and while I felt guilty for making her think my headache was worse than it was, I didn’t want to expose the truth of my desire for her just yet.
I nodded my head noncommittally, and her lips quirked in a slight smile.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have to bombard you with my theories right now,” she said quietly, moving to push out of her chair. Before I could think, my hand shot out and gripped her uninjured forearm tightly. Faylinn stalled, her eyes drawn to our point of contact.
Did she feel the same things I did? This warmth, this rightness?
“Stay. I want to listen,” I said with a gentle squeeze before releasing her arm. Reluctantly, I pulled my hand back to rest in my lap as she sank back into her chair, cheeks slightly reddened.
“Uhm, yeah. Yes, okay,” she stammered, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
“So, I was looking at the census scrolls from a few years ago to find any UnBonded Destruction Vessels,” she began again, and I forced myself to listen intently to her words, even as my stomach dropped at the implication.
I had no doubt that Faylinn succeeded in her task and would present me with options at some point.
Options that I would, now, have to consider.
No matter how much my soul screamed for me not to.
“And I found something . . . interesting? Alarming? About Samyr.”
I tried not to act surprised, but couldn’t help the slight hitch in my forehead at her words.
“So you think it’s interesting, too!” Faylinn said as she unfolded a piece of parchment stuffed into her belt.
“Did you seriously take part of the census scroll from the library?” I asked dryly and Faylinn’s cheeks pinked beautifully.
“Yes, I did.”
“And what did Sirak think of that?” I highly doubted the old librarian would willingly part with a piece of a scroll, no matter how convincing the thief.
“He doesn’t know. And what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. This is important, I know it,” she stated, and I barked a laugh even as the sound caused the thumping behind my eyes to escalate.
“Rebel,” I deadpanned, and she hitched one lithe shoulder.
“Careful with that accusation around here, Rohak.”
She was teasing, but her words held weight; the state of Elyria was slowly devolving, and my best friend wanted to do nothing. The memory of my conversation with Alois forced me to school my expression, the seriousness of the situation taking hold.
“So, as I was saying. I found something interesting about Samyr”—she handed me the piece of parchment and words swam in front of my eyes before I was able to focus—“what do you see?”
My eyes quickly adjusted, and I ignored the pounding of my headache in favor of trying to please Faylinn.
I scanned the document twice, nothing immediately popping out at me. It all seemed normal—until it didn’t.
“Fuck,” I whispered, and I saw Faylinn make a gesture of excitement out of the corner of my eye.
“Yes! Right? That’s weird, right? The entire ruling elite, apart from the Lord, is a Vessel.
All of them! And they have the most Destruction Vessels by a large margin.
Why haven’t they been aiding the war efforts?
Why are they keeping to themselves over there?
Why hasn’t Alois forced them to send their Vessels for training or to Bond with his war Mages?
” Excitement caused her words and questions to string together.
I liked it when she got like this over information.
“Because Alois does know,” I admitted as Faylinn blinked owlishly at me.
“What?”
“He knows,” I said again as I gave her the piece of parchment back, the weight of the information suddenly too heavy for me to hold anymore.
“Years ago, when Alois first took power, he made a deal with Samyr. Did you know he’s originally from there?
Judging by my complexion, I am too, though my parents never spoke of their time before Vespera.
” Faylinn sat wide-eyed, head resting against her uninjured hand, enraptured with my tale.
“He was next in line for the lordship in Samyr, but his mother smuggled him out of the territory one night and into the belly of Vespera. No one knows why—I’m not certain even Alois knows why—but it set a lot of other .
. . things in motion. Alois’ father died without naming a successor.
The power vacuum that he left was enormous, and it plunged Samyr into a bloody civil war.
The previous ruler of Vespera was happy to let them kill each other without stepping in, figuring, at the end, he would come in and reap the benefits of whatever ruins were left. ”
I paused, waiting for Faylinn to interject, but she simply rolled her lips in thought and waited for me to continue.
“What started as a small dispute over the lordship quickly devolved into targeting of Mages, especially those in the ruling caste. Many fled to Lishahl and the Borderlands, hoping to escape the genocide. The refugee crisis caused the conflict to boil over into other territories, which threatened a full civil war in the Northern Territories—something that the previous ruler of Vespera feared immensely—”
“Why haven’t I ever heard of this?” Faylinn interrupted.