“He’s outside in the waiting area. We’ve already taken his statement,” Chancellor Xara explains.
I need to verify what everyone said when they provided their statements to ensure my account remains consistent. At least that’s what I tell myself to excuse the almost demanding need to see him.
“Please, I just need five minutes with him,” I plead, ignoring how desperate I sound. I don’t dare look at Kellan. I’ll have to find him later and explain everything, including my Bond with Anders.
“Let her go,” my father says, surprising me. He grips his wrist with his opposite hand, assuming the kingly stance he uses to assert his authority in the room.
My bandaged feet meet cool stone as my long hair, now brushed and clear of debris, sways around my arm. The Bond flickers betweenKellan and me, a shimmering green light that pulses with potential. I exhale slowly, grateful it’s still there, and allow my defenses to drop. I turn back toward Chancellor Xara and Kuron, picking up on the weariness etched into Kuron’s features. I’ll need to spend some time with my guard later and reassure him I’m okay and there’s nothing he could have done to prevent it.
I feel everyone’s gaze locked on me as I push open the door on wobbly legs and find Anders seated across the hall, shoulders hunched and head hanging loose between two clasped hands.
As if he can sense me, he looks up, and I see tired eyes staring back. He swallows thickly, standing and closing the gap in a single, purposeful stride before wrapping strong arms around me, embracing me like it’s him who needs me and not the other way around.
For reasons I can’t fully grasp, a rush of relief floods me. I can feel him relax as though my presence has calmed the storm within him. He leans back slightly, cradling my head in his hands, and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.
“We need to talk,” he whispers, his breath tickling my skin. I nod, unable to find my voice, and let him take my hand as he leads me down the dimly lit hall.
He opens a door, and we slip inside. My senses come alive as I step into the golden, filtered light, absorbing the scene around me: brick floors, shelves overflowing with potted plants, and greenery cascading from the glass dome ceiling. This is the medicinal greenhouse.
It feels as though Anders instinctively understood my need to be surrounded by nature. I exhale a long, shuddering sigh and turn back to find him leaning against a worn wooden work table, hands tucked into his pockets, and his dark gaze focused solely on me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely rising above a rasp, thick with so many emotions I can’t even begin to convey.
I reach for my throat, my pulse quickening as memories wash over me—I had been screaming. Hot tears spill from my eyes, tracing warm trails down my cheeks as the reality of what I experienced, what I saw, what was demanded of me, crashes over me. I had come so close to losing everything, and it was Anders who had saved me.
It was Anders who reached into the dark, into that all-consuming fire, and rescued me. He reaches out, wrapping a hand around my waist, and gently tugs me between his outstretched legs.
Something has changed between us. This change in intimacy and friendship blurs the lines. My lips quiver as the hold I had on my emotions breaks. I crumble, burying my face in his chest, tears soaking into his shirt as he holds me tightly against him. I sob for everything I’ve endured, the horrors of the last few days, and the thought of never seeing any of these people I love again. Just when I think I’ve reached the end, fresh waves of grief and confusion sweep in. I had made myself a promise to never be weak, and I couldn’t keep it when it mattered.
My body feels weak and cold, the kind that goes beyond logic, so cold that I feel as if I might never understand what being warm feels like. I know it’s just the effect of trauma, but I tremble at the thought nonetheless. Anders remains silent, anchoring me as my knees give out beneath me. His arms are the only thing keeping me from collapsing entirely. Time stretches, and the minutes bleed together until I finally feel strong enough to stand on my own.
When I finally look up, I find nothing but understanding etched on Anders’ features. He cups my face tenderly, brushing away the remnants of my tears with gentle fingers. As we stand there, it feels as if the world outside has faded away, leaving just the two of us wrapped in a cocoon of our Bond’s iridescent light.
For the first time since noticing them, I smile softly at the beauty of all the colors. The muted purples and wispy greens intertwined with soft pinks and blues all faded beneath a shimmering white cloud. It’s so unlike the dark shadows I almost died in.
My tears dry as his hands find their way back to my waist, settling there as if that’s where they belong. “I’m grateful I found you,” he confesses. I watch as he grapples with memories—assumingly those of finding me—his jaw flexes, and his grip tightens slightly. “I sensed that something was wrong. I heard you screaming?—”
“Wait,” I cut in with confusion. “What exactly happened? My memory feels like a hazy dream.”
He runs a hand up my spine, causing goosebumps to break out over my skin, and I lean my head against his chest, allowing him to hold me against him. His warmth seeps into me, and to my utter surprise, it chases away the chill that feels bone-deep.I’m sure things will return to normal tomorrow. Right now, though, I plan to savor this moment of vulnerability and honesty between us.
His heartbeat is a steady thump beneath my ear as he begins to recount the events of the past few days. The timbre of his deep voice is soft and soothing, as he continues to gently run his fingers along my spine, touching me as if he is afraid to let go. He starts with the night his team received the notification about Cresnigan before heading to bed. He continues with waking up to a frantic Kellan.
I remain silent, my hand resting against his chest, listening as he opens up about his father. Shock and then empathy wash over me, and my heart breaks for him.
“I’ve known about my father, or at least had an idea about what happened, since he went missing. I couldn’t be certain, but once I realized you were gone…” He exhales heavily, his hand moving up to cradle the nape of my neck. “It felt like instinct; I don’t know how else to explain it. I realized I had to get to you. It was reckless and irrational, but I knew it had to be me.”
His words swirl in my mind, and I sense that I know what he’s talking about, that it had to be him. I don’t think anyone else would have made it. Though the notion that anyone could survive Sgya seems almost unfathomable. I’m still struggling to believe it myself.
“Raea, I found something in the books,” he murmurs. “I was going to tell you, but then you were dealing with your cycle, and then this.” There’s sorrow there, not because of his father, but over me. “I think…” he pauses. “I think that the prophecy we found is about us. Which means?—”
My chest aches, but my heart flips excitedly that he’s allowing me in. I reach for his hand, intertwining my fingers with his, not shying away from the energy this time. The familiar energy flows between us, but now I realize something I hadn’t known before. The energy feels remarkably similar to the raw energy of Sgya, as if it’s all part of thesame network; yet this feels dull and manageable. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of questions.
“That we’re fated to Bond?” I ask with a little squeak.
I bravely glance up at him, craning my neck, and my heart nearly skips a beat at the look in his eyes. The guarded masks he wears like a second skin have vanished, leaving behind a raw and vulnerable Anders, his gaze silently pleading with me to stay, not to pull away.
For too long, I’ve dismissed the strength of our connection, yet hearing him articulate this pull ignites a warmth that flushes my cheeks. The brooding hot prince could become my husband? I almost giggle at the chance that Anders is the one I’d be destined to Bond with.
