CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
EMMERY
As Emmery drummed her fingers on Reize’s crooked wooden table, too many thoughts crowded her mind to worry about the stump beneath her, the skittering insects, or the splinters digging into her skin.
Two days had passed since she left Blackdawn Castle, seemingly the equivalent to an eternity. The bond hummed within her, aching and empty again. The further she fled, the less Destonne lingered in that hollow part of her.
And she didn’t know if that was better or worse.
Aera shoved her nose under Emmery’s cloak. Though spring had made its appearance while they’d been in the Hollow, the nights still seeped a chill into her bones.
Emmery lifted her gaze to find Reize with the tea Dez had warned her about all those months ago. When offered, Emmery cupped the mug and stared into it, lost.
“Thank you for seeing me on short notice,” Emmery said, hoarsely.
“You seem troubled,” Reize replied. Those strange, yellowed eyes that wouldn’t focus surveyed her. “How can I assist you?”
“I have a bit of an unorthodox question, but I didn’t know where else to go.” Emmery picked at her already bleeding nail. She glanced at all the aged, musty books scattered along the bookshelf and then studied the rose scarred into her palm that still tormented her.
For the last few nights, she’d screamed into the Divide for Zyphira, but even the Oracle had abandoned her. She must have really fucked up to deserve that. “What do you know of bonds?” she asked.
“I’m well versed.” Reize cocked her head at Emmery, and a shiver worked its way up her spine. “I can smell one on you. Is that what you wish to know?”
Emmery’s nose scrunched. “You can smell it? Can … everyone smell it?”
“No,” she replied. She laughed a light tinkling sound. “It’s part of the conditioning. Though I didn’t complete it, some abilities one achieves early.”
Even though she was afraid of the answer, Emmery asked, “What does it smell like?”
The instrument of the Gods extended her hand. “May I touch you?”
Hesitantly, Emmery placed her hand in Reize’s.
Emmery shuddered as Reize ran her finger along the bond. An image of Dez flashed through her mind: him sitting at the pond, damp hair dripping water in the moonlight, his back torn with an array of fresh wounds. A sleeping Soren lay in his arms and Brennen at his side.
“It smells like warm amber, vanilla, and fire with a hint of woodsmoke. And something cold, like winter air and mint. Very strong mint. And it’s all very intimately entwined. Like ribbons knotted a half dozen times over.”
Emmery’s heart sank. Plummeted to the bottom of a chasm.
“What did you see?” Reize asked, tilting her head.
Emmery cleared her throat and peered up at Reize. “Him. I—I saw him.”
“Fascinating,” she hummed.
Another stroke of her finger, and another image of Dez surfaced. With a tiny flare of her khaos flame, his skin melted and teeth clenched, he set the thorns alight. They withered, then returned.
Emmery’s eyes dampened. From what she could tell, he could only use that tiny fragment, and each time he borrowed her flame, it tugged like a rope tied around her heart, but her magic always happily aided him. She hadn’t known what he used it for. Had this been the reason all along?
“Interesting,” Reize mused, her strange eyes shut. “This is different.” She released Emmery’s hand, stood, and skipped merrily to the bookshelf, her dark hair swaying. At least someone was happy.
Since her confrontation with Brennen on the way back to her room to pack, Emmery had been beside herself since he’d known about the Council, too.
She’d also demanded he not tag along, even as he followed her out the door.
Surely it was only by Dez’s order. She’d brushed Fionn off too, though he didn’t deserve it. She was just hurt.
Then Reize hummed a familiar tune. The one Emmery had played on the pianoforte with Dez. Emmery’s pulse slowed as the notes echoed in the dank cottage.
“How do you know that song?” she asked.
“Oh, silly me. I heard it through the bond.”
Unsure what that meant, Emmery’s heart dropped.
Reize skimmed her fingers along the bookshelf, then plucked one off and skipped back to the table.
Her fingers traced the series of textured bits on the page, some lettering system she’d never seen before, but surely Dez knew.
He seemed to know everything. Emmery shoved the thoughts of him away.
When she let herself think of him, she fell into dark places.
Reize clapped the book shut. “This bond is not god willed.”
Her stomach sank. “What does that mean?”
“It means that whoever did this—” She waved her fingers at Emmery who offered her hand once more. “They willed it themselves. This wasn’t crafted by the gods. It was made. Sculpted by, mmm, I’m not sure.”
Emmery’s breath quickened. “What can you tell me about it, Reize? Because I want only one thing. And that’s to be rid of it. I want it gone.” It had to be erased. She had no other choice.
For a tense heartbeat, Reize quietly drummed her fingers on Emmery’s palm. “Then I have bad news, dear.”
“No, come on. There has to be—gods, there must be some way.”
“I’m afraid this bond, with how it was sealed, cannot be severed. Even by death. It’s the phrase that was used and something about the mixing of your blood.” She blinked once, twice, and on the third she said, “There isn’t much I can tell you, aside from its phrase and intentions.”
Emmery stared down at Aera and stroked her soft fur, desperate for more information, but scared of it. Her jaw tightened as she said, “Please.”
“The phrase that was used,” she tapped her finger on the bond and wiggled her nose, “was Molh havan za vania. Una brelle aspretto. Senta el mio.”
A winded sigh slipped from Emmery. It sounded much prettier when Dez said it. “What does it mean?”
“It’s ancient Calmalian. Not many speak it anymore, but—” She leapt up to search her bookshelf once more until she pulled another text. As Reize flipped through the pages, Emmery chewed her cheek until it matched her bleeding finger. “It’s a version of an idiom but tailored.”
Dez loved his idioms it seemed. Vera da mieste.
Reize dramatically cleared her throat. “It says, ‘Beyond life, beyond death, beyond my last breath, I will wait—heart, body, and soul, I’m forever yours.’” Then she clapped the book shut and set it on the table as if she hadn’t just dropped an earth-shattering bomb.
Emmery’s stomach hit the floor, her heart along with it. The phrase was undeniably familiar. She swallowed past her dry throat, and dared ask, “And the intention?”
Reize pulled her mouth to the side. “Some things come through as images. Hands reaching in a dark room. There’s music, and black, gold, red, and silver. But I can tell you there was one force behind this. And it’s so strong, so potent, I have never felt another like it.”
In a broken voice, Emmery asked, “What is it?”
She’d been sure Dez had used her. Manipulated her as Nathaniel did. As Vesper had. How everyone she’d ever trusted had hurt her.
“Something most don’t have the privilege of glimpsing in this lifetime, let alone touch or hold.” Reize’s smile leaned a little sad, wistful even.
Emmery’s breath caught, and her chest was a fish on a hook, a leaf suspended in the wind.
“Love.” Her entire world narrowed on that one word. “It was forged by love, Emmery. And though I can see it in your eyes, my dear, it’s a road that meets in the middle. A window or a door. A bridge or a tunnel. And you two stand on either side of it. But it always connects.”
Emmery blinked hard, trying to process hearing what she already knew. What she already felt and now, could no longer deny.
Because there it was: right or wrong, steady or faltering.
Her truth.
“You always have and always will,” Reize said. “Together.”
Before Emmery could filter her thoughts, Reize added, “There is only one way to break the bond. One power that undoes all things. And it happens to flow through your veins.” She released Emmery’s hand and drummed her fingers on the splintered wood.
“But you should know it has consequences, as all things do.”
Juno’s breaths misted the air as Emmery rode through the night well, into the day, and the following setting sun. And as she travelled, Vesper’s words rang through her head.
Promise me that in all this, the prophecy and finding this man, you won’t lose yourself. The gods may have carved this path for you, but don’t follow it if it doesn’t suit you. Make your own path. Fucking claw it into the ground with your bare hands if you need to.
Bleary eyed, she stumbled into Blackdawn Castle. When she spotted Brennen, she stalked over and threw her arms around him.
“You’re no longer angry about the Council?” he asked.
Face buried in his fur, she mumbled, “Oh no, I’m still furious. But I’m not here to see you.” She lifted her head and glanced around the empty foyer. “Is Dez here?”
Brennen offered a skeptical look. “He left about two hours ago. Why?”
With only one destination in mind, Emmery stalked past him, up the stairs, and down the hall. Aera followed at her heels and nosed the back of her calf. “Is his bedroom locked?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.” Brennen followed, his steps punctuated by the click of his nails on the marble. “You seem frantic, princess. Are you alright? I thought you wanted to chop off his unmentionables and watch them burn.”
“I can’t say it hasn’t been on the top of my mind, but—shit, it’s hard to explain. I’ll tell you later. I need to get my book first.” Emmery reached Dez’s room and threw open the door, praying he hadn’t moved it. And when she caught sight of the leather cover, her heart swelled.
She crossed the room and seized the book, then flipped past his note still tucked inside, to the dedication.
It wasn’t exact by any means. In fact, what Reize had said was so much more powerful.
Her heart slowed as she withdrew the letter he’d written, followed by a whole stack of papers covered in the handwriting etched into her heart. Seems he’d made notes, copious notes, written quotes, and marked passages.
Emmery turned to the door and her damn toe caught on something again.
She hissed a curse and bent to pick up yet another book she’d checked out months ago, a story with a heavy romance plot, surely something Dez wouldn’t be interested in.
But as she picked it up, it fell open and she noticed, in the margins and underlined through the book, he had noted his thoughts. And there, on the page, was her name.
Aera yipped and darted beneath the bed skirt. With a sigh, Emmery lifted the fabric, but when she did, she lost her breath entirely.
There were nearly fifty books tucked under his bed.
All her books. Every single one she’d read from his library. Like some crazed woman, she pulled them out one by one and found them all dogeared and annotated, like the dirty book he’d replaced.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She quivered as everything she had ever known shook loose. She clutched the book to her chest and sank to the ground.
She had an impossible choice, though her heart had already decided. And she would follow its guide.
When Brennen poked his head in the door and spotted her, she turned to him, still hugging the book as if it were the last piece of her heart, the final sliver to make her whole. “Where is he?”