9. Matched
MATCHED
ELENA – THE GREEN REACH
Rythar is moving now, with measured steps. He’s less than a meter away when he stops, bends forward, and inhales deeply through his nose.
I feel the drag of his attention like he’s run his fingers over my skin. My body reacts before my mind can catch up. Every hair stands on end, heat pooling low in my belly.
I try to hate him for this. I try to hate myself. But the Stone has me in its grip. It’s not finished with me. I try to pull my hand back, but it’s stuck to the Stone. A pressure crawls under my skin, coiling inward.
Rythar’s eyes burn, the red spreading through the gold. It isn’t only lust, exactly, though there’s plenty of that. It’s something possessive. Territorial.
The Stone stirs in my head, a voice sliding between my thoughts, patient and watchful.
If you will not forget, then you are the spark.
Rythar surges forward, arm wrapping around my waist, hauling me into him. The sudden movement steals my breath. His grip is unyielding, one massive hand flat against my lower back, holding me upright as my knees threaten to give.
My body goes still. The Stone has my muscles, even if it doesn’t have my agreement.
He doesn’t speak. He shifts his stance, squaring his shoulders into command posture.
I stare at my left hand.
The skin around my ring finger is warm. Then hot.
Pain pulses twice before blooming into a thin circle of faint light. It burns like something alive, waking up under my skin.
My grandmother’s gold band, the one I brought with me from New Terra, the last piece of Old Earth I owned, is gone.
Nothing is left but the circle of light.
Rythar stills completely. His breath catches against my cheek, a sharp intake he doesn’t quite manage to hide. His gaze drops to my hand. A muscle jumps in his jaw, and he lets his breath out slow through his nose, like he’s clamping down on something.
The Stone is in my mind.
This is a gift, it whispers.
It’s theft, I protest. But the Stone does not respond.
Rythar lowers his head, and his breath skims my cheek. My pulse picks up, and I don’t know why. This is far too soon, and I’ve just been robbed of my grandmother’s ring.
Then he lifts me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. He steps off the platform, and the world blurs.
My heart pounds. His beats slow and steady against me.
His heat soaks into me. I steal a glance at his face.
His eyes hold mine with an intensity that pushes against the boundaries of reason.
Rythar’s arm tightens around me ever so slightly. He carries me effortlessly. My head leans against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him—intoxicating.
I know this is so wrong, but my mind feels like it’s underwater. I pick my head up, but my body won’t follow.
I want to say something. I want to ask Rythar if he understands what just happened to the others.
If he knows how wrong they were to split us up.
About how frightened my friends must be inside, even if they don’t show it.
But the Stone’s presence is still here, caging my tongue, and when I try to speak, the words tangle and die.
I force the words out. “The other women,” I say. “I have to know they’re ok.”
Rythar doesn’t reply. The Stone does. It’s in my mind.
Your function is optimized by self-containment. Interference will destabilize the system.
“I don’t care,” I say, louder this time. “You can’t just—” My voice cracks.
Rythar’s arms flex around me like a shield. He turns with me so no one else can see my face, blocking the crowd with his body.
The Stone calculates.
You were granted limited empathic access to your compatriots. Acceptable parameters.
A wave of nausea rolls over me, and for a moment I see a flash of an emotion that is not my own.
It’s cold, bright panic. Sophia. She was claimed by one named Vorak.
I see her for a fractured heartbeat. Vorak’s arms are locked around her.
I feel what Sophia feels—the heat of Vorak’s body, the way her jaw is set in rigid defiance even as fear flares beneath it.
Her pain hits me last, cold down the back of my neck.
It fades fast, but the after-image leaves me dizzy.
Knowing and being unable to act is worse than ignorance.
Some gift, I tell the Stone. Save Sophia.
I get a second flash, fainter. Dana. She’s not afraid. But the glimpse of her is gone before I can hold it. The Stone makes my head heavy. Rythar’s arms tighten around me as my head rests against his chest again.
The other warriors murmur, uneasy.
Rythar bares his teeth in warning. They’re white, even, and the canines are longer than a human’s. Sharper. Of course they are.
We stand there for a long moment. Then Ex O Drenz steps forward. He bows stiffly to Rythar, then to me. “The Warlord’s translation module is currently nonfunctional. He will not address you until it is restored,” he says, voice crisp and militarized.
I blink at him. “Then how—how did he talk to me before? In the jungle?”
Drenz’s mouth twitches. “That was before you were his bride. Now, he will not speak in broken words to you. We will accompany you to the fortress, stronghold of the Green Reach. Your new home.”
He turns on his heel.
“Wait. Where did the other women go?”
Drenz turns back to me. “They were sent to their biomes. We are already in the Green Reach biome.”
“Vorak. Sophia,” I manage to say.
Rythar’s arms tense around me, but it’s Drenz who speaks. “Vorak is the ruler of Reach’s End. Some call it Green End. It is within the Green Reach biome.”
I don’t really understand, but Drenz returns to his post, leaving me with Rythar and the new burning ring of light on my finger.
The other warriors disperse, muttering, but none make a move to follow.
Rythar shifts his grip, and I realize we’re already halfway down the path out of the ceremonial grove. I don’t remember leaving the Stone, but it’s already behind us, the torches growing dim in the thickening mist.
The world is smaller here, just the two of us and the sound of boots on the jungle floor. He’s surprisingly quiet for his size. He carries me like I’m made of glass. My body still won’t respond. If he dropped me, I’d fall like a rag doll.
I look at the band of light on my finger and flex it. The skin tingles, and the ring’s pulse beats in time with my own. My grandmother’s gold is gone, erased in a heartbeat and replaced with something alien.
I want to cry. But instead, I trace the ring with my thumb, mesmerized by its glow. It’s final. My old life is gone. Nothing that came before matters anymore.
No. It all matters. My friends matter.
The Stone is still in my head, coaxing me to accept this.
I fight it, gasping.
Rythar stops. The jungle opens up into a small hollow, ringed by trees with thick trunks. He kneels, sets me down against one tree. His eyebrows knit together as I breathe hard.
“Your Stone is in my mind. Get it out,” I hiss at him.
I try to move, but my body is still slow and uncooperative.
I flex my fingers, then my toes, like we did in biowarfare training back on New Terra.
Sophia’s plan was to pretend to be weak.
I don’t need to pretend right now. The ring pulses once as I think of Sophia, and I gasp again as I fight the Stone’s push against my mind.