Chapter 26 #2
A lump forms in my throat. He’s asking me to connect myself to him for life. Even if it’s just to keep his people safe, and to keep track of where I am. Which is useless, because it’s not like the War-Father would take me back.
He should hate me too much to even consider this. I know he can't lie, but I must be asking the wrong questions. There's something he's hiding. Why be kind? Why act like I’m worth trusting?
I turn away and walk to the wall; reach out and run my hand over one of the vines growing there. My fingers shake. Maybe this shouldn’t be such a hard decision, but there’s a lump in my throat and my eyes feel wet and stinging, like I might cry. I don’t want Roiven to see that.
I can never return to who I used to be and the things I used to believe. But I don’t belong here, either, after everything I’ve done to Roiven’s people.
“There must be a catch,” I say, my voice thick.
“I want you to come as my ally. Not my enemy, not my prisoner.” His footsteps are soft on the ground. When his hand settles onto my left shoulder, his touch is gentle.
“How can you trust me?” I’ve dedicated my life to killing his people. There’s too much blood to ever wash away.
“That’s what the bond is for.”
“Still. You can’t want to be stuck with me.”
“I don’t think the kraken himself would have chosen you without good reason.”
I was seven when I fell into the water. What if the girl who deserved power grew into a woman who did not?
I let my eyes fall shut and draw a ragged breath. My only choice is to be stranded on an island or to do this. And right now, insane though it seems, I trust Roiven’s judgment more than my own.
Maybe this is what it takes. To atone.
“And you promise I’ll still be myself?”
“It’s a bond, Cai. Not a shackle.” He lets go of my shoulder. I nod, more to myself than to him.
“And you’ll think about negotiating,” I confirm.
“Yes. I promise.”
“Alright,” I whisper. If I’m handing Roiven a part of myself, at least I get a part of him in return.
“Alright?” he echoes, sounding surprised despite the fact that he’s been pushing.
I blink rapidly, and swipe at my eyes with my living hand hoping he won’t notice. Then I turn, jutting my chin out and trying to look more confident than I feel.
“What do I do?”
Roiven’s eyes study my face closely. I’m afraid he can see far more than I want him to. But he offers me his left hand without saying a word. Does he want to shake on our agreement? I give him my living hand in return.
He grips it tight, and doesn’t let go. I try to shake, but his grip is firm and steady, holding me in place.
“Relax.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. One corner of Roiven’s mouth quirks in a smile.
“It might help to close your eyes. Take a deep breath. No blood sacrifice involved, promise.”
Oh, we're doing this now.
His gaze stays on mine, and I find I can’t look away. Whether because I don’t trust him, or because I don’t want to, I can’t say. Pressure pushes against my mind, like Roiven is squeezing my brain. I jerk back and rip my hand free.
“What the hell?”
He sighs and offers me his hand again.
“I told you to relax. If you keep a wall up, this isn’t going to work.”
“I’m not doing anything.” I reluctantly take his hand again. My heart thuds rapidly against my ribs.
“You’re fighting. Don’t.”
I feel the pressure again. Roiven, asking to be let in. My body stiffens, and Roiven sighs. A frown creases his face.
“What are you so afraid of?”
“Nothing.”
“The truth, Cai.”
“One of us is going to regret this,” I snap.
“Are we?” Roiven’s eyebrows raise slightly.
“You really want to be stuck with me?”
“I can think of worse fates.”
I don’t believe he means it. Oh, the enchantment doesn’t let him lie, but he’s probably comparing this to being eaten alive by reapers. But if I say yes, he’ll consider negotiating, and that’s the only way this war will end in anything but annihilation.
I gulp, nod, and finally close my eyes. Alright? I think. Let him in. Fine.
I can feel something reaching for me. When I focus on it, it’s almost like the hum of enchantment. But the tone is different. This isn’t frantic or aggressive. It’s quieter, a rumble of power waiting at the edge of my mind instead of a buzzing insect bashing its way inside.
I reach for it, the way I learned to reach for enchantment.
The pressure softens, and then changes, as the power rolls into me like a summer thunderstorm.
Suddenly I feel like I’m falling, like my whole body has tilted down and is rushing through the sky; like the ground vanished beneath my feet.
I try to open my eyes and find they’re sealed shut.
A flood of feelings rushes through me, a dizzying swirl of emotion coming too fast for me to name.
This is Roiven. He’s more scar tissue at this point than he is man.
I can feel how hard it is for him; how much easier it would be to believe the world is rotten and to give in to the anger and hurt pulsing in his veins.
But he goes on believing in goodness anyways through sheer fucking stubborn obstinance.
I can feel his love for this secret village and the people here.
But the main things I feel? Guilt. And anger. I stop looking, and I don’t try to figure out what it means. This feels too much like spying on him.
And by all the gods, I don’t want to know what Roiven is seeing in my head.
I’m glad the feelings don’t translate into pure thought because now that I’m realizing how much I don’t want him in my mind, the only thing I can think about is how attractive he is when his clothes are stripped off, and it’s the absolute last thing in the world I want him to know, because it's a fairly embarrassing thing to be thinking about, and I’m only thinking about it because of how terrible it would be for him to know.
But he wouldn’t be able to tell that, would he?
Roiven’s hand loosens, and slips away from mine. I open my eyes slowly and find him staring in shock at his arm.
“It’s done?” I ask.
There are markings on my hand, reaching up my arm almost to the elbow. Like enchantment marks, the lines dark green instead of blue-black, and painless. Witchcraft instead of crystal. I gulp. There’s no hiding this.
The marks are on him, too, twining between the black enchantment lines and the pale silver scars where I've worked to remove the spells.
“How did we already…?” he whispers. The emotion pulsing from him now feels like disbelief.
“What's wrong?” I ask nervously.
“Nothing.” He looks up to face me. His eyes move quickly, cataloging me. His jaw looks tight, like he’s clenching his teeth. My face burns. I desperately hope he didn't know what I was thinking about when we formed the bond, but I'm certainly not going to ask. I could die of shame on the spot.
“Then… we’re going?” I force myself to ask. Roiven nods, the movement sharp. His eyes drop down, off my face, to the dress I’m wearing. Are we going to sit crammed together on Sava’s back again, or will he insist on her carrying me in her paw?
“You ought to change,” he rasps as he hands me back my sword. “It’s going to be a long flight.”