Chapter 32 #2
The battlefield wavered, the memory curling in on itself like burnt paper to reveal four stone walls, as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.
The ever-present damp chill seeped into his skin, biting through the thin, filthy shirt he wore.
His pallet of moldy straw reeked of damp decay, and iron cuffs bit into his raw wrists, the collar chafing his throat with every shallow breath.
The chains that bound him were thicker than before—reinforced.
There would be no slipping free this time.
But he had survived this before. He could survive it again.
Then he heard it.
At first, he thought it was a trick of his mind, but the voice only grew louder, rising from muffled pleas to a ragged scream that sent a jolt of terror straight through his chest.
Araya.
Her panic flared in his veins, every echo of her agony vibrating through the tether that bound their souls together. They had her. They had her because of him. He had taken her blood, tied her to him, and now they knew. Because of him, she was suffering.
"Araya!" He strained against the chains, blood slicking his wrists—a small price to pay if he could just reach her. But the chains held. They always did.
"Jaxon, please... please stop..."
"Araya!" Loren bellowed, throwing all of his strength into another desperate pull against the chains. The pain didn’t register.
Only her voice mattered. Her broken gasps, her sobs, the breathless way she begged.
This was his fault. He had been selfish—too weak to send her away like he should have.
And now they were tearing her apart because of it. Because of him.
“Loren…please..."
Loren’s stomach twisted, bile burning the back of his throat as the iron collar cut into his throat with every gasping breath.
His vision blurred, sweat slicking his palms and stinging the raw wounds on his wrists as he struggled weakly against the chains.
She needed help. She needed him, and he couldn’t get to her.
"Stop! I'll do anything, just stop!" Loren screamed, his throat ripping raw, pleading with anyone—anything—that might hear him. "Please!"
This—this is the future. Condemn her. Condemn yourself, the shadows hissed, their fury returning seven-fold. If you let her break us—let her walk away—go back to him—
Loren gasped, his chest heaving as his eyes snapped open. Shadows writhed across stone walls—but this wasn’t his cell, and the tears he tasted on his tongue weren’t his.
They were hers.
Loren threw off his covers, shaking the shadows off.
The balcony doors stood open, letting in the cool breeze that nipped at his exposed skin, reminding him that he was here, in Ithralis.
Safe. But the bond pulsed like a wound in his chest, tugging him through the halls with the same terrible urgency he’d felt in the dream.
Had he even woken? Or would he find her at the other end covered in blood, only to have her turn to ash in his arms?
He finally found her in the library.
She sat at the table in her usual spot, a storm of papers scattered across its surface.
He’d lurked in the stacks, watching her pour over the same reports over and over again with fervent hope, desperate for some sort of clue—but not tonight.
Tonight, her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
“Araya,” he said softly.
She started slightly, her hands slipping from her face as she turned. Tear tracks cut through the smudges on her cheeks, her wet eyes shining even more brightly than usual in the light of the aetherlamps.
“Are you alright?” Loren dared a step closer, the bond clawing at his chest like it was trying to escape. Her grief ached in the space between them, so strong it threatened to drown him along with her. “Is Thorne—”
“He’s alright.” Araya sniffed, dragging a hand across her eyes. “Gods—he’s alright, Loren. He’s going to be fine. I’m sorry. I just—”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Loren reached for the nearest paper, turning it so he could read it.
Lines of cramped handwriting crawled across the surface, figures in the common tongue interspersed with notations in spidery Valenya script.
Symbols stamped in the margins confirming it as New Dominion intelligence—retrieved and processed by Eloria’s spymaster.
“Where did you get this?” he asked softly.
“Ilyana brought them. From Eryn.” Araya looked back down, still sniffling. “Were you hiding them from me?”
“Not hiding,” Loren said, setting the paper back down carefully. “It’s classified intelligence—I’m just shocked Eloria allowed it to leave Lumaria.”
Araya said nothing. Just stared at the reports, her shoulders hunched, hands limp in her lap like she didn’t know what to do with them anymore.
“All I’ve ever wanted to do was protect you, ael’sura,” Loren said softly. “From the moment I realized who you were. How I’ve done it…I know it hasn’t been perfect. But the thing I want most in this world is for you to be safe.”
“I should hate you. Everything you’ve done to me—but I can’t.
” Her voice broke, a fat tear splattering the report in front of her.
“I’m no better than you. Did you know that he’s killed twenty-three females?
They weren’t spies or rebels—he just picked them off the street because they had red hair and clipped ears. ”
Loren’s throat tightened, the shadows behind him going still as Araya turned the page with shaking fingers.
“Entire districts have been locked down—families taken and never seen again. Serafina…” her shoulders shook. “Serafina was taken into Arcanum custody and hasn’t been seen since. It’s all my fault, Loren.”
“It’s not,” Loren whispered. He wanted to reach for her, but he couldn’t move. Even the shadows were still around his feet. “It’s not your fault, ael’sura.”
“I can’t fix it.” Araya finally looked up at him, tears cutting silver paths down her cheeks. “If I don’t go back, the fae there suffer. If I go back while we’re still bound, Jaxon uses me to hurt you. But if I break the bond I hurt you.”
Loren’s pulse stumbled. “Did you find a way to do it?”
“I did. But it doesn’t matter.” Araya turned another page, shoving it toward him.
“According to every one of the few accounts they could find, breaking the bond requires your true name. And like you said…” She trailed off, her voice bitter.
“No true fae would ever give anyone that kind of power over them.”
Loren sucked in a sharp breath, his heart stumbling in his chest. He’d told her that—Goddess, it felt like a lifetime ago. In a dream neither one of them would ever see come true. He’d been so cruel, certain that he was right. But what had he known, in the end?
“It’s Lorendrael,” he said.
Araya’s head snapped up, but Loren rushed on before she could speak.
“I still think going back is a terrible idea, but…if you want to break the mate bond, I won’t stop you. I swear it.”
“Loren…” Araya stared at him, her mouth parted as her eyes searched his like she wasn’t sure he was real. Loren forced himself to meet her gaze and hold it, even as his heart screamed at him to take the words back.
“I claimed you without your consent,” he said softly. “I can’t take that back. But I won’t shackle you to a fate you didn’t choose. Whatever you decide, ael’sura…I’ll survive it.”
“I—” she cleared her throat, scrubbing her hands across her face. “We shouldn’t do anything until we retrieve your father’s remains. I do want to help the fae in any way I can. I just…” she trailed off, still staring at him. “I think we can make it through the Veil together. If you’re willing.”
Loren swallowed hard, the bond twisting in his chest. “Eloria said it will take two days to prepare for another attempt to retrieve my father’s remains. Is that enough time?”
“Two days,” Araya echoed slowly, nodding.
“I’ll let her know.” Loren reached out, brushing a strand of hair that had escaped her braid back out of her face before he could think better of it. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch as his knuckles grazed her cheek.
It wasn’t much—just the smallest tilt of her head toward his hand—but it stopped the breath in Loren’s chest. The bond pulsed quietly, not burning or clawing like it usually did, but warm and still. Peaceful, for the first time since he danced with her at Bloomtide.
“You’re exhausted,” he said, his voice thick. “Let me walk you back to your room.”