I was vaguely aware of Ilyas waking and moving to comfort me—his calloused palms soothing away the ache for a brief moment before the steel tip of the spear glanced off the side of my neck, slicing open the soft skin on the right side of mythroat. Abruptly, Ilyas removed his hands, and the momentary reprieve that his touch brought disintegrated to dust.
I faded in and out of consciousness as I fought the agony that permeated my very soul. My body, my soul, finally recognized that something vital—Sasori’s Bond—was missing, causing my whole system to riot.
The absence of the Bond was a constant ache in my chest, but with the Battle of Vespera and the trek across Northern Elyria, I’d been able to cast aside the emotional turmoil. Now, though, in the presence of whoever caused the emptiness in my chest to thrum, the absence of the Bond was more than noticeable.
For what felt like hours, I panted through the tremors and seizures, desperately trying to cling to something that would anchor me in the present—a lifeline that could pull me back from the depths of this despair.
Instantly, I latched onto Ilyas’ Bond in my chest and pulled as hard as I could. There was a moment of alarm—a gasp from the man whose soul was entwined with mine—before I felt a trickle of Pleasure Magic slide from my Vessel and into my waiting palm.
My body quieted, the convulsions dying down to faint tremors and jumps, as I gently played with the magic in my open, sweaty hand.
I focused on that warm bit of power, willing my erratic heart rate and labored breathing to return to normal.
In through your nose, out through your mouth. Ilyas’ voice was so far away, so buried beneath the ringing in my ears that his words were more dream than reality. My lungs responded to his gentle command as I sucked air greedily through my nose before ungracefully blowing out. Foamy spit trailed from my open mouth to land on the dirt and leaves beneath my face. Petrichor invaded my senses with every inhale, and I used the loamy scent to ground me further in reality.
“What is wrong with him?” I heard the female mutter sometime later when the ringing in my ears finally eased, and the tremors had subsided to mere inconvenient twitches.
“Lex?” Ilyas leaned over my body, pressing his lips close to my ear. “Are you okay? Tell me what’s wrong.” The heartache in his voice nearly sent me into another tailspin, so I focused on the physical feelings rather than the emotional ones.
“I-I’m okay,” I finally stuttered, the words rasping through my throat like sandpaper. “C-can you h-help me s-sit up?” My teeth still chattered from the shaking of my muscles.
Ever so gently, Ilyas wrapped his palms around my shoulders and lifted my torso so I was once again propped against the moss-covered log. I kept my eyes closed, staving off looking at the woman for a moment longer. The right side of my head was wet from the drizzling rain, while leaves and sticks stuck to the hairon my left. My eyes were gritty, my skin waxy and sallow. Emotionally, I felt flayed open and raw.
After a deep fortifying breath, and with Ilyas’ calming hand on my leg, I cracked my heavy eyelids, blinking twice to clear the blur in my vision.
My heart jumped, my muscles threatening to seize again, as I gazed upon the woman who made the empty spot of my Pain Bond pulse erratically.
I panted through my mouth before letting the Pleasure Magic in my palm wrap around my forearm until it reached my elbow. Its warmth reminded me of Ilyas and grounded me enough to speak.
“Wh-who are you?” I rasped quietly.
The woman stood eerily still, and, for a moment, I was certain she was a mirage—an image my sleep-deprived and injured brain conjured in an attempt to make sense of the pain in my soul.
“Why are you following us?” the woman hissed, her eyes hard and unforgiving. I shifted slightly as a muscle contraction consumed my thigh and threw my hands up in supplication when I found the woman’s spear pointed at my neck once again.
My Pleasure Magic sparked and danced, unconsciously reaching for the stranger. I reeled it in, but barely.
Her brows furrowed for a moment as her eyes flicked to where I held the magic protectively curled against my chest.
As if she could hurt it. I huffed at the notion.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, pulling my gaze away from my unruly magic only to drown in the most beautiful amber, a pigment I’d never seen before but knew, instantly, was my favorite color.
That and sea-glass green.
When the woman didn’t retract her spear, I huffed in amusement. “You just saw me at my most vulnerable. After that . . . attack, I am in no physical state to try and overpower you”—her eyes flicked to Ilyas’ hulking protective form—“and neither is he.”
The warrior seemed to debate the merit of my statement for a moment before hesitantly lowering her spear until the butt came to rest on the outside of her boot.
“I will ask you once more only, then my spear will come out again,” she said, voice devoid of all emotion, leaving only steely indifference. “Why are you following us? Who are you?”
I chewed my lip in thought as I studied her.
“My name is Lex d’Talionis. This is my True Bonded, Ilyas.” For some reason, it felt necessary to add that qualifier about his Bond. “We are . . . friends of Ellowynd’Refan.”
The woman’s eyes flared for a moment in recognition before she schooled her expression once more.
“You are from the Academy?” she asked, and I nodded, my head drooping in exhaustion.
