Chapter 26 #2
“Try sending that thread through to Cyrus.”
The almost-priest held out his hands, eager, as always, to participate in anything with magic. At least Sylmar had chosen Cyrus instead of Lukai for this task. The thought surprised Gaeren and made his bond mark itch once more.
“It sounds like it was an interesting memory,” Cyrus said. “I’ll take it.”
Aeliana grimaced. “You might be waiting a while.”
The silence stretched, and Riveran yawned, gaining a glare from Sylmar.
“I feel like it’s fading,” Aeliana said. “The thread and the memory. It seems stuck where you left it.”
Sylmar stood. “Think of how you push out your light shield, how you send your energy through to others to heal them. Think of the ways you’ve already used your magic and do it again, but with the memory.”
Her brow furrowed once more, and this time Gaeren allowed himself to study her even longer.
The way her lashes brushed her cheeks and how her lips pursed in concentration.
He could still see faint traces of the toddler he’d known as a child, of the Daisy he longed to protect, but he could no longer think of her that way.
He wanted to protect her, but not because she was a small child unable to protect herself. He simply cared what happened to her.
He cared about Aeliana.
He squirmed at an admission that felt forbidden.
She had all the grace and beauty of the women in the noble courts back at the palace.
But she also held a humbleness that set her apart from the women he was used to dealing with.
Even Lenda had held him at arm’s length, as if she knew he could never truly love her.
As if she saw their future as political and transactional just like he had.
But could he break his bond because he cared for someone else?
Was there dishonor in doing it if it was for the right reasons?
To free Lenda and to free himself from something neither of them wanted—maybe something neither of them had ever wanted?
To free them up for something more? Something better?
Cyrus’ confused voice startled Gaeren out of his unexpected spiraling thoughts.
“I’m not really getting memories, but I feel like you have some sort of story about Orra and Sheen in there.” Cyrus’ face only held more questions when Gaeren started clapping.
Aeliana’s face grew pink. “That’s hardly worth applause.”
“Did you show her our conversation about Orra?” Cyrus asked.
“No. I showed her my conversation with Orra, who confirmed she’s Sheen.”
Riveran gasped, but Sylmar seemed unsurprised. How long had he known?
Cyrus let out an exasperated groan. “I should have talked to her before we left. What else did she say?” He pulled his hands away from Aeliana, drawing Gaeren’s attention to the red stains on both of their skin.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, bending forward to see which one of them was actually injured.
“Oh, no,” Aeliana said, pinching the cut on her palm. “How did that happen? Did I push too hard?”
“I’ll get Lukai,” Riveran was quick to offer, reminding Gaeren his old friend had always been a bit squeamish.
“I can heal—” Aeliana started, but Riveran was already out the door.
“It’s a good thing his X is on his forehead,” Gaeren said.
“He might have fainted every time he saw it otherwise.” He grabbed a rag from his desk drawer, then poured water on it from his waterskin before passing it to Cyrus.
“And you can’t cut yourself from pushing too hard.
Not unless you had an old wound that reopened. ”
She frowned at her hand. “I feel like I’m always getting cuts and bruises, but I don’t know where they come from.”
“You’re almost as klutzy as me,” Cyrus said. “You probably just didn’t notice it before because Arvid and Vera kept bleeding and healing you.”
Aeliana shuddered.
“It will be hard to switch skills after training so much.” Sylmar studied Aeliana a little too closely while she attempted to heal the cuts on her palm. “It will be a bit like reversing the Wheel’s spin or pivoting to roll down another path.”
“It feels wrong again.” She took the rag Cyrus offered now that his hands were clean. “I don’t like it.”
“We’ll take a break.” Sylmar shuffled toward the door.
“Try again tomorrow. We need to go back to your somatic skills and get your healing and light shields back up to speed as well. Perhaps the brand is interfering by presenting new options to you, but that should never override your primary spoke.”
“Is there any chance Mayvus branded me again?” Aeliana’s eyes flashed with fear. “Why does it feel this way?”
Sylmar turned, his face a storm of fury that didn’t seem directed at her.
“Branded progenies give up their magic; they don’t receive it.
Mayvus wouldn’t want you gaining any extra skills or advantages.
Plus, you’d have another mark on your hand unless you’ve learned illusionary magic without my knowledge.
I think we can all agree that this must be from Durriken. ”
“Mayvus had marks all over her body.” Aeliana looked like she wanted to say more, maybe reference the marks he’d had all over his body at one time. Her eyes grew wider with her rising panic. “What makes you so certain it would be on my hand? Should we search the rest of my body for marks?”
“The person performing the branding can place the mark wherever they want on their own body, but the recipient’s mark will always be on their hand.” Sylmar’s rage simmered until his words held sadness. “You’re fine. You’re safe. You don’t need to be afraid.”
Aeliana’s face still held a mix of emotions as Sylmar left. Cyrus patted her back awkwardly before following the old man, leaving Aeliana and Gaeren alone.
The room suddenly felt smaller, and yet Gaeren was too far away to comfort her. When she wrapped her arms around herself, he knew he should go to her, but the two steps it would have taken felt too forward. What if she didn’t want his comfort? He wasn’t her bondmate.
When a visible shudder passed through her, instinct won over his internal debate. He took one step, and her gaze snapped to his. With his second step, her muscles loosened and she leaned in. Just as his palm brushed the smooth skin of her arm to pull her close, the door opened, and Lukai rushed in.
“Are you all right?” He pushed past Gaeren, scanning Aeliana from head to toe as he gripped her upper arms. “Riveran said you were hurt, but I hadn’t felt anything, so I didn’t think it could be much, but—”
“I’m fine.” Aeliana’s smile was tight. “I’ll be fine.”
Lukai steered her from the room without even acknowledging Gaeren’s presence, and suddenly Gaeren was alone, his bond mark flaring and the braid on his wrist too constricting.
He yanked his knife from his belt, his thumb automatically feeling for the flower that wouldn’t be on the pommel, because he’d given that knife to Aeliana.
He held the point to his wrist, debating cutting off the braid but instead letting the tip rest against the innocuous bond mark that suddenly felt like poison he needed to cut out.
His heart pounded, his spirit eager to be rid of the thing once and for all.
What did it matter if he cut it out? He let the point break his skin, the sharp cut hardly noticeable, but it brought forth a rush of memories: Enla bent double, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Painful moans escaping her lips as Gaeren carried her to her room.
Screams of hatred for their friend that Gaeren had echoed in his own mind.
Then the stillness. The numbness. When he thought he’d lost her completely.
How had he left his sister back in Elanesse after swearing to protect her? How was he any better than Riveran, who hadn’t protected her from their parents’ decision to break the bond? What kind of brother was he to turn his back on her and leave her to the fate predicted by the sprites?
His knife clattered to the floor, pulling him from the memories that had swallowed him.
A knock sounded on the door, and rage swelled in Gaeren.
He pulled the door open, almost wanting Riveran to be on the other side, desperate to give the other man a solid punch.
Maybe wanting Riveran to return the punch even more.
Erech stared up eagerly at Gaeren for just a moment before shrinking away. “Um, sorry, Captain, but Larkos needs you at the helm. Says his leg is bothering him. Sorry.”
All the anger drained from Gaeren, leaving him as exhausted as if he’d sailed through a summer storm. “It’s all right, Erech.”
He bent to retrieve his knife, noting his bond mark no longer throbbed. His desire to cut it out now felt like an act of insanity that left him unsettled by his own behavior. Like always, he shrugged it off with humor.
“Tell Larkos that next time he shouldn’t get new tattoos right before we sail out.”
“I don’t think he’ll laugh if I say it, sir. He might actually growl at me.”
Gaeren chuckled and tousled the boy’s hair before following him out on deck. “He’ll growl at me too. That’s what makes it so fun.”