23. Thrice Surrendered
Thrice Surrendered
Impatience guided Kailorien back to the Resh’Agar’s wing. Urgency. Fury at the dozens of failures that had brought them to this point.
He didn’t wait. Not after finding her exhausted and trembling.
Not after watching her cling to pride for more than a week while her affliction burned through her resolve like dry leaves.
And especially not after smelling his brother all over her and knowing that the horrible stab of pain in his chest had been Shu’Khan’s attempt to give her raw mana.
Mana could never—should never—be transferred between bodies. If there was one inviolable rule of nature in the world, it was this. Even in Estar, the mana from the Companions wasn't drawn into his own body, but into Vargrún and the Master Rune directly.
This truth made Shu’Khan’s actions a violation.
Attempted murder. Though, knowing his demented brother, it had been an act of sick curiosity.
He saw all that transpired within the Lattice.
Somehow, he’d seen Kailorien attempt to breathe for Auryn in the past and tried to mimic it without understanding what it meant.
I hardly understand it myself. How is this even possible?
The voice called it Breathweaving.
To Kailorien, the word ‘miracle’ was enough. This Bond between him and Auryn. The way their hearts beat in sync. The way their breaths matched.
A miracle.
The moment the doors to his chambers sealed behind them, Kailorien pulled her into his arms. No hesitation.
No restraint. His hands slid to her waist, then lower, gripping the threadbare hem of her dress.
He glared at the fabric like it wronged him.
Evidence of the neglect she’d experienced for so long. Not only the Lattice’s, but his.
Neglected your Bonded.
Neglected.
Horrible thing.
It smelled like the Sovereign's Sahtra, and he needed it off of her.
Now.
“This,” he grumbled, voice hot against her neck, “is completely unacceptable.”
Auryn barely had time to speak before he tore the fabric—clean and practiced, like peeling rind from fruit. The dress gave beneath his hands, parting down the side seam with one swift pull.
He pressed his mouth to her shoulder as the cloth slipped from her frame, casting it aside with a flick of his wrist. His hands worked with calm fury, nudging the shoulder straps aside, opening each hidden clasp and loop with the precision of a man undoing every insult, every deprivation she’d faced for decades, stitch by stitch.
“I’ve seen you wear this for a week,” he muttered against her chest. “One more day, and I would’ve lodged a formal motion to have it outlawed in the Lattice.”
She huffed a soft, breathless laugh, resting her forehead to his. “I suppose it couldn’t have survived another mending.”
The chamber was warm and comfortable. A set of phiros stones was already crackling in the fluxhearth. Even standing in just her underthings, Auryn didn’t shiver from the cold.
“The gowns you bought,” Auryn said. “They’re safe now. They were cleansed.”
“I’ll buy you as many more as you need. You shouldn’t have had to mend any of them in the first place,” he murmured.
His hands tightened at her hips, anchoring her, grounding himself. For a heartbeat, he didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just breathed her in. Let her heartbeat flutter in his chest, right beneath his ribs. His lips traced a path from her shoulder to her upper arm.
“I’ve been negligent.”
Then trailed lower, to the tender curve of her elbow.
“Let me take care of you now, starlight.”
He straightened, meeting her eyes. They were wide, reflecting all of him. She wore an expression of wonder. Of awe. Her lips thinned, then parted again.
“You already do.”
“Not enough,” he lamented. His thumb brushed over the edge of her mouth. “If you’ll let me, I’ll build you a new wardrobe. Worthy of you. Worthy of my Sokar.”
“Kailorien—"
“No protests tonight,” he warned, kissing her once. Then again. “Go to the bath, sweetfire. I’m right behind you.”
She nodded, and he followed her to the bathing pool. As he strode across the chamber, he kicked off his boots and unclasped his cloak. The click of a buckle accented each step until a trail of armor remained in their wake. Like shedding skin.
In the adjoining chamber, steam ghosted up from the deep-set bathing pool, rich with lavender oil and softened against the light of Lustrals glowing beneath the surface. His eyes settled on glowing spheres set inside the crystal Runewell.
Phir, for aches and pains.
Sorna, to counter mana depletion.
Rith’pa, for settling the mind.
Lu’ma truly was skilled in her art.
He knelt beside the water and held out his hand. When he was sure Auryn was settled on the ledge, he removed the rest of his clothes and waded in after her. He knelt behind her to support her back, brushing the curls from her face, wiping the sweat from her cheeks with calloused fingers.
“There,” he said gruffly, pressing a kiss behind her ear. “We’ll soak the heat from you. Then I’ll carry you to bed and tuck you so deep into the pillows that even the Destroyer himself would have to beg my permission to touch you.”
She made a pleased humming sound, but a frown tugged at her lips.
“I don’t like it when you worry so, especially now when I can feel how your heart hurts when you do.”
“Good,” he grunted. “Maybe you’ll start taking better care of yourself.”
“I wasn’t neglecting my safety,” she protested.
His hands paused. Settled on her shoulders for a moment.
“Auryn, don’t ever go to him alone again.”
Her breath snagged. She leaned back.
“…Had I known that he would…”
“Don’t think about it now,” he cut in, pulling her against him. “You’re safe. I don’t intend to let that situation repeat itself.”
“But what if he summons me?”
“Then I go with you. No matter where duty places me, I will come.” He paused. "If you just call for me."
Her hand came up to brush against his forearm. "I will."
They floated in silence for a long time after that. His hands brushed over her body, soothing aches and pains she hadn’t even known were there. When the water cooled, he warmed it again with magic.
“We need to understand this illness,” he said.
“It’s not anything strange, Kailorien. I’ve told you before. This reaction is something I’ve gotten used to.”
“I won’t let this go, Auryn. We need to find the cause. The voice said it had something to do with the Bond. But even now, you are still—”
“It’s just another nuance of my body,” she insisted. “Neither of us truly knows what I am. The reason could be any number of things.”
He thought on this, his hands brushing through her damp hair, undoing her braid and letting the strands float in the water.
“Let me do what I can. I won’t lose you to something just because I don’t understand it,” he concluded at last.
She turned in his arms, legs curling up beneath her as she faced him. The water undulated between them with their movements. When she reached up and brushed wet strands of hair from his brow, the tension on his face relaxed.
“You do understand,” she promised. “You’ve always understood my needs before I do.”
“And what is that now?” he asked, thumb stroking the slope of her jaw, voice husky.
She shivered when he grazed her mouth, her answer given in the parting of her lips—in the way she let him slip inside to graze the tip of her tongue.
Their lips melded together in a dance that lingered, the steps slow, deliberate, practiced.
First, he guided. Then she took the lead, her thoughts blooming with her need.
I’ll always be with you. Even if this body disappears. Even if the world ends. I will always—always—be yours.
She opened to him with a sigh, curling her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. And though the water was warm, it was nothing compared to the whole of him—to the fire he ignited inside of her.
“You are not allowed,” he whispered between kisses, “to disappear. Not your body, not your soul. If you do, I will search all the Nine Rivers to bring you back.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised again.
He kissed her shoulders like apology, her collarbone like a vow, her lips like a prayer. And it broke her to feel it, for she knew—the Resh’Agar did not pray.
Not to the Destroyer.
Not to anyone.
Humbled, she pressed her lips to his forehead to show she understood. That she felt it too. That she was his wish, and she was here.
With him.
In this warmth.
In this breath.
As they parted, he shuddered.
“Turn around, sweetfire, before I forget why I put you in this bath.”
She smiled but did as he asked. His fingers moved through the water, trailing down her arms. He guided her legs to stretch out in front of her, her back pressed to his chest, his thighs bracketing hers beneath the surface.
“Tell me where it hurts,” he said, brushing his nose along the curve of her neck. “Even if it’s small. Even if it’s only your pride. I want to kiss every wound.”
She leaned her head back against him, breathless. “My pride hurts quite often around you. The Sokar surrenders to her Resh’Agar too easily.”
“Then I will kiss that last,” he rumbled, mouth tilting into a small smile. “It’s in the most difficult place to reach. Though, I disagree. It is your Resh’Agar that is undone the moment his Sokar looks his way.”
A laugh bubbled from her, breathy and light. But when he slid a hand beneath the water to cradle her shin, lifting her leg to inspect a scrape along her knee, the humor in her died down, replaced by that hush that always came when he turned serious.
His hands slid up her thighs, to her waist, then to her ribs. He stayed there, his fingers idling in tiny circles, each shape stealing a little more of her breath.
“Still too warm,” he fretted, nuzzling his nose against her ear. The sound of his heavy breath against her sensitive flesh made her whole body tighten in response.
Auryn reached behind her, touching his face.
“I’m in a hot bath,” she teased.
“Even so,” he murmured, smoothing his palms over her belly. “I know your warmth, and this feels different.”