“Do you really think I would hurt you?” I asked, horrified, my voice hoarse and cracking.
Folami quickly shook her head, braids tinkling together in a song of roughagitation. Lines from squinting against the sun appeared at the corners of firmly shut eyes as her mouth formed a thin line.
“No, of course not, Peytor. I know you would never hurt me”—I relaxed slightly with her words—“it’s just . . . all a lot for me right now.”
I let her words hang in the air, hoping she would continue without my coaxing. With each deep breath, I could see the tension leak from her tautly held muscles—her fists unclenched first before she physically shook out her arms and legs.
“Am I still yours?” I asked quietly once her posture was languid. For a few agonizing minutes, the room was silent.
Folami refused to open her eyes; maybe it was easier to deliver the killing blow without seeing me. I crossed my arms tightly and dug my nails into my biceps. The bite of pain grounded me and offered a wisp of protection from the words I was certain would fall from her lips.
“You are still mine, Peytor, just as I am still yours,” she whispered, the stinging pressure of tears immediately following her words. “But I think he—they—might also be mine.”
Finally, Folami opened her eyes, and I knew she could see the myriad of emotions swirling in the depths of mine, just as I could see hers. I opened my arms slowly so as not to spook her and gestured for her to come closer.
Immediately and with no hesitation, Folami closed the distance between us to rest her head against my shoulder. Her body sagged against me as my arms encased her, offering the comfort and solace we both desperately craved.
Despite the apparent laxness in her posture, Folami’s body was still wound so tight, she practically vibrated against me. I slowly worked my fingers into the tight muscles that lined her spine and shoulders.
“Say something,” she mumbled into my shoulder, her warm breath fanning over my neck.
For the longest time, I held my tongue while I continually caressed and kneaded her flesh as I thought.
“Peytor?” Folami mumbled, her head rising from my shoulder to look into my eyes. “Talk to me. You’re sweaty, and your pulse is racing, I can feel it.” One of her palms covered the area over my heart, her heat bleeding through the thin fabric of my tunic. For a while, I simply gazed at her hand on my chest, reveled in the contrast in our skin tones, melted into her touch as she tried to stroke away my insecurities.
“I have a lot to say, Folami, but evenIdon’t know how to work through it all right now,” I said, my gaze rising to meet hers.
Folami pinched her full lips as her eyes danced between mine.
“Try,” she commanded.
I blew out a harsh breath as my hands fell from her waist to wind back through my hair.
“I’m . . . confused. Angry. Jealous. Frustrated. Concerned. A whole myriad of emotions, Folami, and all of them revolve around those two men.” I gestured to the wall that separated our rooms.
“That is all valid,” Folami said, and I scoffed scornfully.
“Yes, I know it is, Folami. But it doesn’t change the fact that the potent cocktail of emotions that I have swirling in my gut right now is making me enraged and a bit unhinged. My thoughts are spiraling out of control as my mind takes me down the worst paths imaginable. I finally saw you for the first time in months, and the first words you spoke were about them. There was no reunion, there was no happiness to see me, you simply launched into the prospect that you might be that Mage’s True Bond.” Folami opened her mouth to interrupt, but now that I’d started speaking, there was no containing my words as they spilled from my tongue.
“And if you decide that’s what you want, then what does that make me, Folami? You say that I am yours, but they might be yours, too? You know I realize how a Bond is completed, right? Do you simply expect me to be okay with you fucking another man? I . . . gods, Folami, I feel like I’m going insane! And you look completely nonplussed by everything that’s happened! For the entire time I’ve known you, you havehatedwith the passion of a burning sun the concept of Bonds. You’ve hated the Warlord and everything he stood for, everything you suffered under his management at the hands of your Bonded. And now what? You want to voluntarily enter into a Bond with someone you don’t know? I’m struggling to wrap my head around the fact that you would simply renege onyearsof hatred and distrust, all because you’re magically made for that man? It’s insane!”
The volume of my voice rose with each question, each accusation, until I was practically shouting at Folami. No doubt, the Mage and his Vessel could hear us straight through the wall.
Just what I need—the Mage to swoop in and offer her “understanding” where her lover couldn’t.
The thought had my insecurities bubbling to the surface once more, and I growled in frustration.
“Are you done?” Folami asked, colder than I’d heard in months. In fact, I was unsure if she’devertaken that tone with me.
“Yes,” I clipped, sinking into one of the twin red armchairs in the sitting area of our room. Folami followed me into the space but refused to sit. Instead, she crossed her arms so tightly I could see her biceps bulge and muscles twitch as she loomed over me.
“Good. Nowyouare going to listen tomeand listen carefully, Peytor, because itis the only time I will say this.” Folami’s eyes flashed dangerously as she spoke evenly, cooly.
“You, nor anyone else, gets to tell me how and when to heal. My trauma is my own. My experiences are my own. How I heal, when I heal, who and how I forgive, what that process looks like is for me and on my terms.Mine.Not yours, not Torin’s, not Lex’s or Ilyas’”—I huffed petulantly at the mention of their names—“no one else’s but my own. I am so sad, so disappointed, that you think I would simply Bond with him because he showed up claiming to be my True Bond. Do you seriously think so little of me?”
Her words cut and I winced as they landed as intended. I pulled my gaze from hers so I could stare at the cold fireplace, not wanting to see the wrath and disappointment in her eyes.
“No, you’ll look at me when I speak to you, Peytor.”
