49
Raiden
What happened?” Aryn appeared behind Raiden’s door with Sirona hot on his heels.
“Kordelia,” Raiden answered in a single clipped word. Steam wafted from beneath the door to his bathing chamber.
“I need to see her.” Aryn pushed forward but Raiden blocked his path, his shoulders brushing the doorframe. “Let me through, Windward.”
“This time skildaj, walk away,” Raiden warned. “Trust me on this.”
Aryn paused, his eyes near glowing as fury radiated from him.
Raiden realised how interesting it was that Kora formed the same protector bond with Aryn, and this time around he was even more linked to her.
He’d appeared, pounding on the door, with a half-asleep Sirona yawning behind him, all too aware something was wrong.
Raiden soundproofed the bathing chamber with his gift so as not to disturb the Huntress.
Kora needed time, she needed space. He saw the look in her eyes at the marks lining her skin, the haunting shadows circling her mind. He could feel it in the bond, the lifeline was fragile, frayed, barely holding together after Kordelia nearly severed it.
“Call for me as soon as she’s ready,” Aryn answered, brimming with intensity.
The protector bond could be consuming, sometimes leading to a relationship, or even losing oneself to it.
Despite Raiden knowing where Aryn’s heart truly lay, the pangs of jealousy still stabbed whenever Kora was with Aryn.
The way she looked at him, like he’d shield her from everything.
And he hadn’t fucking told her how intense these bonds could be. How Kora could . . . she could . . . Raiden shook his head, his grip tightening on the door.
“It’s so early.” Sirona yawned again, her pale hair braided and wrapped with a silken ivory tie. She wearily blinked in the shadowed hallway, and her robe was skewed from running here. “Someone woke me up from a lovely dream.”
“Do you have isuga ointment?” Raiden barked, his patience thinning.
“Depends, are you going to rub it on me?” Sirona smirked, revealing a small iron tin with a simple label. “Just kidding! A healer is never without her kit.”
Aryn gagged. “Now I’m definitely leaving.” He spun on his heel, his shoulders hunched as he trailed down the hallway, before turning at the corner. Towards Aerion’s chamber.
“Thank you, Sirona, truly.” The doorframe creaked with Raiden’s clenched grip, the wood splintering beneath his skin. Every second away from Kora was torture for him. What’d happened? How had Kordelia surged so soon—and so fast?
“Now you owe me another drink. A friend who owns a bar comes with many perks I aim to exploit,” Sirona muttered, her face hardening as she handed over the tin. “Apply morning and night for a week. If it itches, then I’d advise to stop.” She glanced down at Raiden’s crotch, and then winked.
“That’s not . . . no. It’s not for that.”
“Whatever floats your boat. If you want to swim naked in the river with leeches, by all means,” Sirona called loudly over her shoulder. “Maybe invite me next time.” She glided towards the healers’ quarters in the south wing. “Kidding again!”
Raiden stewed, knowing people in this wing would’ve heard as a gust of wind slammed the door shut. He leaned against it briefly, closing his eyes as he basked in the silence of his room. As he opened them, he cursed.
His room was a state. Spare mattresses lined his large bed, cushions from various guest rooms covering the floor.
His dark sheets were tangled and messy from where Kordelia had pounced on him, and endless books on runes covered whatever spare inch of hardwood remained.
Raiden pushed off from the door, collecting the multi-coloured cushions to arrange them in some awkwardly cosy fashion by his balcony.
His room wasn’t grand, it wasn’t what a former prince would usually reside in.
He’d always favoured simplicity and organisation.
All the rooms in the west wing were the same, with standard oak furniture, a raised platform leading to a squared balcony, the windows stained with various depictions of Galenite culture.
From celebrating Hallow’s Day, to ceremonies at the Aurora Gap in memory of Haizea—the giver of the air they breathed—community gatherings in the promenade, and so much colour. Galenites loved colour.
The door swung open and Raiden paused, spinning to face Kora.
She emerged from the steam, her skin pink from the hot water, her wet hair reminding him of moonlight reflected on a shimmering lake.
A grey shirt covered her small frame, and Raiden twitched realising it was one of his he’d left in the bathing chamber.
It fell to her knees, and she’d even put on a pair of his socks.
Holy Haizea.
His pulse skyrocketed, and he refrained from moving as their gazes clashed, electrifying the current of air between them. He didn’t even dare to breathe in fear of breaking the connection.
She was so gods-damned breathtaking.
“Can I stay?”
Her voice in his head shocked him and Raiden blinked, his body trembling from maintaining the distance that stretched out as long as the void between them.
“I can hear you . . .” Wonderment filled him as he dared a step forward. Kora watched him warily, her fingers twirling around one another.
“I think battling Barron’s magic . . . it somehow helped. When I was down there, I tapped into something . . . different.” Kora nibbled her bottom lip and Raiden nearly tripped over his feet.
“Do it again,” he breathed as he closed the distance slowly, his gaze never leaving hers—like the shimmering ocean, the expanse of freedom, the endless well of possibility lurking within the individual fibres of colour in her eyes.
“Can I stay?” she repeated.
A shiver raced through him, thrilling him. He wasn’t alone.
“You can always stay.”
“Did you already plan for it?” Kora frowned at the spare mattresses on the floor and Raiden froze, realising how this looked. “Although not sure I need three.”
A rare blush snaked up his neck. “Ah . . . no.” He hesitated, glancing at Kora, but his gut roared with certainty that he could trust her.
“I’ve been having bad dreams since Barron took you on the ship.
And every time I wake up, I’m floating on the ceiling and I can’t control it.
The mattresses are there to break my fall. ”
Kora glanced to the ceiling, as though she could imagine it. “What do you dream about?”
Raiden exhaled, surprised by her question. He expected her to leave at that instant, decide sleeping alone would be better than risking next to a sleep-floater that could squash her in the night.
“You,” he replied.
Kora’s eyes glinted against the flames of the cream sconces lining the walls.
Raiden sucked in a breath, heat coiling in the base of his spine and winding around his thighs, making him dizzy.
Her fucking eyes. She braved a step forward, and the scent of salted vanilla, wrapped in his shirt, made him rock on his feet as he fought to suppress the growl that wanted to tear from his throat.
Her head tilted up as she scanned his face, a new boldness emanating from her in his presence, like she could truly see him. Suspicion no longer lined her eyes, whatever wall she’d been hiding behind had shattered. “And how bad are these dreams of me?”
Raiden swallowed. “The worst.”
Kora hummed, and Raiden’s jaw grinded as she briefly swayed forward, inspecting him, close enough for him to count her eyelashes, before stepping back. “I have bad dreams, too. Of Barron. Blake. Agatha. All the death I’ve caused.”
Raiden motioned to the bed and Kora clambered in, pulling the duvet over. Raiden settled on a mattress beside her, dragging one of the pillows from the bed. He refrained from admitting he knew she suffered, that her chambers were on the other side of this wall, and he heard her weep at night.
“Each day that passes, the suffering gets a bit easier,” Raiden answered.
“Lucky me, I’ve got an eternity for that to happen,” Kora half-joked as they both stared up at the curved ceiling.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked into the space.
Silence. Kora’s breathing hitched, and for a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer.
“I found something.” Relief flickered through him that she responded. “A hidden book in my room. It . . . it wasn’t anything important, just random scribbles. But when I touched it I . . .”
She fell quiet, her feet audibly fidgeting beneath the sheets.
Raiden reached up, pressing his fingers onto the side of the bed.
Without hesitation, Kora’s fingers brushed his, up to his knuckles.
His entire body focused on the sensation, the sensitivity of her nails against his skin, the way her fingers glided across his.
“Kordelia consumed me so easily. I had no control, no way of stopping her. It was the worst it’s ever been. I’m afraid, Raiden.”
“I won’t let it happen,” he assured. “Where’s this book?”
If Kordelia had hidden something from him, he dreaded to think what it could be. She never had any trinkets or keepsakes in her room, nothing of sentimental value. The only thing she ever prized was a compass that never pointed north, and that was lost.
“I left it there. I’ll get it tomorrow. I don’t want to be near it right now.”
Raiden pondered deeply about what secrets Kordelia may have harboured. What else could she have hidden in this castle? Was there something in this book to trigger such a strong emotional response in Kora?
“Is it always like this? Magic, I mean. I thought once I had a grip on it, everything would be fine.” Her sigh was heavy, laced with irritation.
Raiden chuckled, forgetting how Kora was the equivalent of a young teenage mage when it came to her magic. “It’s not like those fantasy stories you like to read.”
“How did you know!” She rounded the bed, her hair falling around her face as she blinked down at him.
His breath caught in his throat, and he instinctively tucked a few silken strands behind her ear.
Kora didn’t push him away and so he continued, tracing her jaw lightly until he cupped her scarred cheek.
“Remember I said sometimes I’d be sucked into the void, and would have to watch your life? Well, some of the time, all you were doing was reading out at sea. And I was forced to read along with you.” Raiden rolled his eyes with a small smile.
“I’m guessing you like reading?” She glanced to the pile of rune texts in the corner.
“Nope, absolutely not.”
Kora’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’, her freckled cheeks blushing slightly.
“I also know how filthy some of those books are that you’ve read.” Raiden laughed as Kora smacked his hand away with a groan, disappearing under the duvet. “What I wanted to say, is that in those stories, magic is endless, mighty. It comes without consequence. It’s beyond the rules of the world.”
Kora peeked out from under the duvet, resting on her side as she peered down at Raiden, her head propped on his plush pillow. His cock twitched knowing his bed was going to smell like her for days.
“What’s the best way to explain . . .” he frowned. “You like coffee, right? Once you have some, you feel a rush, endless energy, capable of doing anything.”
“I think you’re overselling coffee, but sure.”
“After a while, it drains. You get tired, you need another ‘drink’ to keep your levels going. Our magic is like that. It has reserves. Filled to the max after a hot, strong coffee. The more energy you use, your reserves dwindle, reaching a limit. That’s where the bleeding comes in, from your nose or ears.
Your blood is literally screaming at you to stop.
Because our power is in our veins from the gods.
” Raiden waved his hands in the air, trying to over-explain the concept to her.
“So, basically, I could feel this shitty for eternity?”
Raiden dropped his hands. “Yes, sorry. It doesn’t get easier. Wielding will, and understanding your limits. But I promise that you will hit those limits, and you’ll have to wait for your body to replenish each time.”
Kora remained silent for a moment. “How often do you reach your limits?”
Raiden swallowed. “Sometimes.” Did he fuck.
Him and Zephyr were the only two people he knew that didn’t possess a limit.
That was until Erick Cadell’s lungs came into the equation.
He enjoyed the ease of conversation with Kora.
He’d never experienced something like this, the vulnerability, the casualness. The comfort.
“Don’t worry, you’ve got an eternity to get used to it apparently.”
“Very funny.”
“I am quite funny.” He could hear the smile gracing her lips. “Goodnight, Raiden.”
“Goodnight, Huntress.”