Chapter 65
Lex
SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO
My soft leather boots padded silently against the sparkling obsidian floors, a direct contrast to the sharper clack of the sandals that accompanied the gait of an acolyte of Fate. The halls were relatively empty, but that was to be expected for the middle of the day.
Most, if not all of the soldiers—both Awakened and unAwakened—were in some sort of training.
Weapons, hand-to-hand, magical combat, strategy.
Only soldiers with special dispensations, usually those with newer Bonds, were given ‘off time’ during the day.
There were a multitude of things that Bonded Mages and Vessels needed to do, especially in the early days of the Bond, to grow and foster their connection.
But that was generally done in private.
So it was no surprise that the corridors were empty today.
It’d been nearly six months since I’d Awakened on the dreaded table deep down in the hidden catacombs of the Academy, and I’d subsisted on crystals since that fateful day.
I often wondered, when I was in class or training with another Awakened soldier, if they knew what was happening beneath their very feet.
They couldn’t—I was sure of it. Their awe and reverence when I appeared one day in the Awakened barracks sporting not one, but two affinities was enough to make me believe that they knew nothing of the horrors below.
And I chose to keep believing that.
Because the alternative was even worse than their innocence.
True to my prediction, no one else emerged from the dungeon below.
Each day since I came back, I looked for a familiar face, but predictably found none. I long ago gave up the notion that anyone else would emerge with two powers. Now, I just held a thin thread of hope that some of those soldiers would at least survive.
It was a fool’s hope.
No one left that dungeon alive.
Not even me.
After the initial intrigue of my powers wore off, both unAwakened and Awakened soldiers gave me a wide berth. I was somewhat of a social pariah now, especially with all the unwanted attention I received from Lord d’Refan.
I’d been given my own room—large and well-furnished, it was substantially larger than the entire apartment I’d shared with my mother and siblings—as well as certain special dispensations. Like the ability to visit a pleasure house whenever I desired.
I internally shuddered at even the thought.
My thoughts drifted back to the acolyte leading me through the winding hallways.
Last night, Lord d’Refan sent word that a new group of Vessels was arriving at the Academy, a handful of Pleasure and Pain Vessels amongst them.
As his new “pet,” I had the ability to choose my Vessel first, ahead of even some of the more seasoned Mages.
This, of course, only caused the other soldiers—Mages especially—to detest me.
Lord d’Refan’s offering of a Vessel was remarkable. But I simply couldn’t bring myself to choose one, to bind myself to another person for the rest of eternity.
The last person I’d grown close to was irreparably damaged because of me, her memories completely erased. Her body broken and permanently scarred.
I tried to listen to the glowing feeling in my chest, to see if the warmth expanded in the presence of any Vessel, but it stayed woefully silent each time I was introduced to someone new.
Nothing stirred within me in their presence—not like that first Pain Vessel I met in the dungeon.
I knew it was futile to wait for that feeling, if it ever appeared again, but something inside told me it was right to wait.
“Are you listening, Mage d’Talionis?” the acolyte questioned as we rounded yet another corner before coming to a stop outside one of the many identical dark wooden doors that comprised the Academy.
“Please repeat,” I replied, my tone light but firm. I learned to temper my speech since re-enrolling at the Academy. I saved my words, my smiles, my thoughts, not wanting to give someone else that piece of me, afraid it would be ripped away again.
The acolyte turned to face me, his black robes swirling around his feet.
“This is the last group of Vessels you will have access to. By order of Lord d’Refan, if you do not choose one today, one will be chosen for you and you will enter into a Forced Bond,” he said curtly.
My eyebrows rose a bit at his statement, and I jerked my head in a nod.
The acolyte studied me with hard eyes for a moment before blowing a hard breath of air through his nose.
“I shouldn’t speak out of turn, but I’m going to give you some advice,” he said lowly, leaning his head toward me conspiratorially while also keeping his gaze on the hallway, as if he was afraid of someone eavesdropping on our conversation.
“Lord d’Refan is not a . . . patient man. And he is becoming increasingly disgruntled. It would be wise if you simply picked one for yourself today. Keep your head down and out of his sights.”
I studied the man for a moment, noting the pepper in his brown hair and the deep-set grooves on his forehead and next to his eyes.
While I’d only known Lord d’Refan for an incredibly short period of time, I already understood his wrath firsthand.
Clearly it was not just a fluke in his character, but more of a permanent design.
I gave the acolyte a small smile that I was certain didn’t reach my eyes.
“Thank you. I will keep that in mind,” I said. The acolyte nodded his head once before placing his hand on the orb next to the door. It recognized his magical signature, which unlocked the wooden door, allowing us to enter.
The room was completely open, devoid of all furniture. Two windows on the opposite wall from the door let in natural light that made the iridescence in the walls, floor, and ceiling sparkle like the stars at night.
It was a beautiful sight. If you didn’t know what lay beneath the floors.
Lounging around the room against any available surface were roughly a dozen Vessels. Some men, some women. Some older, in their thirties and forties. Others were clearly newly-Awakened. Roughly half I could immediately sense had an affinity for Pain, and the remainder for Pleasure.
The low buzz of conversation died as we entered the room, and my eyes scanned each of the Vessels. Searching for something—anything—that would replicate that feeling I had with the Pain Vessel all those months ago.
The longer I looked without speaking to the Vessels, without walking further into the room, the more agitated and uncomfortable the Vessels became.
My heart sank as my eyes continually ran over each individual in the room, desperately pleading with my magic to recognize one of them. To call out to them.
But with each passing minute, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.
“I heard he was like this,” one of them whispered to another, and they both giggled.
My cheeks pinked at the comment, and I hung my head in shame.
“Remember my suggestion, Mage,” the acolyte whispered to me, his hand on my shoulder.
I was thankful no one in the room could see my eyes at the moment, because, to my utter humiliation and horror, they had filled with tears.
“Lay off him, why don’t you? You don’t know his process.” A loud, confident voice filled the space, and my head shot up of its own accord, searching for the speaker.
A few Vessels grumbled and shifted on their feet—clearly the ones being reprimanded—as I desperately searched for that voice.
Something about it was achingly familiar. Like my soul knew it and sang along with its song.
“Who said that?” I called, my voice surprisingly strong. A note of desperation and excitement wormed its way into my question, despite my best efforts to stay unaffected.
“Here!” A large hand attached to an incredibly muscular forearm shot into the air from the very back of the group.
Someone I hadn’t seen yet? My heart thundered at the prospect, daring to hope.
The group of Vessels shuffled and parted enough so I could see the speaker clearly.
He was tall, taller even than me, with a broad chest and shoulders. His hand was still raised in the air, and I got a good peek at the muscles of his arm before he let it fall, coming to a rest at his side.
The man was close to my age, maybe a few years older, and there was a youthful innocence in his face that belied his age. A dark-brown scruff that matched the close-cropped hair on his head encompassed his jaw and upper neck. His lips were full, almost sensual, and his eyes.
Gods, his eyes.
His eyes were the most arresting shade of sea blue I’d ever seen. Caught somewhere between the ocean itself and the glass you so often find on its shores. They sparkled with intelligence, mirth, and curiosity. A bit of heat underlying it all.
My heart thumped wildly in my chest, in tune with the pulsating of my magic.
All other sound faded away as I looked into the Vessel’s slowly widening eyes.
It’s him. He’s it.
I took three hurried steps across the room, my legs propelling me toward him without a thought from my brain.
It appeared that the Vessel was also experiencing the same pull because we met in the middle of the room, stopping just short of touching.
With every panted inhale and shallow exhale, my chest brushed his.
He sucked in a breath at the contact and every one of my nerves fired simultaneously as he slowly brought one of his large palms up to my face and slowly—agonizingly slowly—ran a calloused thumb down my cheek and around my jaw until he rested it against the hollow of my throat.
I swallowed reflexively, and his eyes dilated as he watched his thumb bob with the movement.
“Who are you?” I whispered, my breath fanning across his collarbone.
I was vaguely aware of the door opening and the remaining Vessels filing out of the room, but it was merely a passing thought. My attention was completely dominated by the captivating male in front of me.
The one who made my blood sing and magic dance.