CHAPTER 38
“If we are parted for too long, your powers will diminish. The longer we are bound, and the stronger you become, the more time we can spend apart.”
I had a great burden on my shoulders. The task before me would require leagues of distance between us. “How will I do what needs to be done?”
“You must meet me in the Dream Realm. That is where all bonds are made.”
—Recounting from the private diary of Jerris, Dragonbound
SERAE
Late Autumn, Beymon 1036
Life back at the manor was monotony unlike anything I remembered.
“This is a punishment for the ages,” I complained.
Mother had forced Merria and me into an embroidery circle, which my limited movement made nearly impossible.
The repetition was nothing like the trance-inducing dyeing process I’d become so fond of in the Riht.
It was entirely devoid of creativity, rigid to a pattern, and mostly involved unforgiving gold thread.
Mother chuckled.
“If you would take your time, your stitches might be more even,” Merria added.
I kicked her under the fabric we were working on together.
“Ouch!”
“Slipped,” I said with a shrug.
Every day, I found time to try to connect with Vaya’la. The absence of her in my head and her power at my center were the hardest changes. Tiredness seeped into my empty bones.
“Are you sleeping?” I asked her.
There was never an answer.
“I hope one of us is sleeping, at least.”
Silence.
When I wasn’t being grilled for information or caught in embroidery hell, my days were filled with errands, fittings, teas, or luncheons.
My evenings, regardless of the day, were spent bouncing between endless dreaded formal dinners.
We dined with a variety of families from town, but most often with the Fethersens.
Tam’s brothers were always left at home, depriving me of the innocent diversion of their shenanigans.
Tam and I were shoved together at every opportunity.
He was my constant meal companion, and something of the old Tam I knew, before this separation wedged between us, came out more and more.
Roughly two weeks had passed, plus the few days I was unconscious, and I found my smiles for him growing more genuine.
It became easy to fall into a routine of laughter and dancing with him.
I was able to ignore his hand on my back, guiding me everywhere we went.
At one such party, he steered us outside to stroll through the gardens, saying, “You look like you could use a break.” He was right.
We walked through the cold autumn night along a row of roses at the end of their bloom then sat together on a wooden bench.
His arm draped around my shoulders, and I was grateful for the bit of warmth.
“I’ve missed this.” His smile crinkled his eyes. “You and me, alone together. I remember the last time we sat on a similar bench.”
“When was that?”
His voice lowered. “The last time you gave yourself to me.”
My whole body tensed, and his grip on my shoulder tightened, squeezing me closer. “I think it’s time we return to the party.”
“Will you not even kiss me?”
I pulled out of his grasp and stood. I could endure the casual touches of friendship, but nothing more.
I may be absent from Vaya’la and the Riht, but Eldreth was always with me.
My heart bled for him every second of the day and night.
No matter if I was sneaking evening strength training in my room or sipping afternoon tea with my mother and Merria, my heart was back in Drakh with him.
If I let them, the memories of our time together would play in my head nonstop.
Instead, I packed them away neatly in a box in my mind and let myself focus on the blur of days that were becoming my life.
Otherwise, I would crumple on the spot. The thought of never seeing him again—not having one more moment together, never feeling his touch or hearing his voice—was more than I could bear.
I walked away that night, leaving Tam on his own for the rest of the evening, but that didn’t stop his wandering hands from finding their way to my thigh beneath the table when seated beside him at the next dinner.
Or the time after that, when he boxed me into a dark corner, begging for one kiss until I had to forcefully push him away.
He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips.
“I need you, Serae. If you need more time, that’s fine. I’ve already waited months. I can be patient a while longer.”
But time couldn’t heal my heart. It slipped away from me, leaving me feeling more hollow every day. At night, I never dreamt.
AFTER THAT first dinner with the Fethersens, Bale had my glasses refitted with false lenses in town.
Despite the lifelong habit, it was a challenge to remember to put them on in the morning.
Bale was my guardian, constantly helping to cover for my slip-ups and dragging me away when he saw me getting overwhelmed.
One afternoon, he gripped me by the hand after a wasteful session with our parents about the common dress habits of the Riht. He tugged me along without a single word to the stables.
“Bale, stop,” I protested. “You know I can’t ride with one arm.”
“Good,” he said, turning serious.
He brought round his sturdy gelding, already saddled, and hoisted me up.
Then, he pulled himself up into the saddle behind me.
We rode. The wind whipped through my hair, which I’d left loose, and set the ridiculous billowing sleeves of my cote flapping.
His gelding jumped a log and raced onward at Bale’s urging as I laughed into the freeing wind.
We came to a clearing in the forest, and Bale pulled the reins. It was a small gap between the trees where a tiny patch of sunlight shone through and encouraged a patch of grass to grow.
“Oh, a faerie patch!” I beamed, remembering the name from our childhood.
Bale grinned and pulled out a pair of matching green cloaks from the saddlebags.
My smile soured. It was the exact shade of green from the tapestry that hung in my rooms in honor of Vaya’la.
When we were wrapped up and seated in the sun, Bale’s eyes turned serious again.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I thought I was enjoying an afternoon with you.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Tell me, sweet and innocent sister, how it is you know so much about the buckling of pants and undergarments of men in the Riht?”
“I— What?”
“I thought as much. I get what you’re doing, and it’s admirable, but you need to put more thought into this. You shouldn’t know that a man’s belt buckles at his side, let alone anything about what he wears underneath.”
“Oh, dragons.”
“And that’s another thing. Since when did you change your beliefs?”
“I didn’t, of course not.” I changed everything about my life and had evidence that my previous beliefs were incomplete. That’s all.
His eyebrow raised. “I see. The problem is that the signs are all there. Our parents, especially our father, are cunning and observant. They’re starting to catch on that you have changed.
I don’t think they’ve noticed whatever was going on with your glasses, and they certainly don’t know about the things I saw during our escape, but they’ve noticed other things. ”
My shoulders sank with the strength of my sigh.
“How did it happen—your sight?”
I could barely form a reply. All I could think about was Eldreth, quizzing me over my change in sight. “I can’t explain it.”
“And the magic? That’s what it was, right?”
“What does it matter? It’s gone.”
Bale hung his head. He looked off into the trees, pretending not to notice as I blinked away tears and shoved the memories of my time in the Riht back into their neat box. “Tell me you’ll be happy with him.”
“I can’t be with him, you know that. How would I ever get back without starting a new war?”
“No. Tell me you’ll be happy with Tam.”
My heart leapt into my throat. I shook my head.
“What’s his name? The one you keep dancing around when you talk about Rihtlond.”
I choked back a sob, not sure when my body decided to start crying.
“The one who you said trained you, challenged you, and lit up your face with smiles the day you found me in that dark room.” His words were tender and soft, and his eyes were downcast, offering me a modicum of privacy as I failed to wrangle in my tears.
“The Rihtlondish prince who followed you into the forest with the might of an army at his back just to keep you.”
Eldreth. It was a whisper in my mind and a plea to fate.
“The woman I met back in Rihtlond, who in less than a day broke out of a castle, bypassed a heavily guarded gate, and charged straight into the opposing army’s lines because she wanted to keep me safe—where did she go?”
“I can’t.” The pain in my chest was physical. I curled my cloak fully around myself. “I can’t be her. I can’t feel those things, Bale. Don’t you see? If I let those things out, I won’t be able to breathe.”
Bale scooted closer, slung one arm over my shoulders, and rested his head against mine.
“Come back to me, Small One.”
My eyes popped open.
“Vaya’la?”
WE RETURNED to the manor late and heard an earful from our mother.
She hissed at my mud-stained shoes and chastised Bale for taking me so far from the house.
As it turned out, we were hosting the Ingletons and Fethersens for dinner, and I, being a crucial member of the party, had delayed the entire lot.
“Shall I join you in my cote?” I asked. The hem of my dress was covered in mud and grass. “I hate to keep the lords waiting.”
Mother looked as if she might faint, but Bale looked like Midwinter Day had come early.
“Excellent idea. I’ll go kick the mud off my boots, and we’ll join you presently.”