He purses his lips. “There are several reasons, but the main one is that someone who is a powerful wielder of elen will rarely agree to give up any of his or her powers. Unless they are also mated, that is. But then again, mates more often than not are of equal strength as well.”
“Why would you have to do that? Give up your power, I mean.”
“Bonded C’elen share everything,” he says. “Their powers, their heartbeats, their lifespan. When one dies, the other follows. But if one is wounded and the other is not, the strongest can also share theiranam—their life energy, or soul, if you will—with the one who needs it. Upon bonding, the powers of the two C’elen will spread equally between the two, which means that if one is significantly weaker, the stronger C’elen will lose a lot of his or her power, and who would want that?” He flashes me a grin.
Reü returns with our refreshments and levels a venomousstare at Vilder, who now occupies his chair. He remains silent, however, and Vilder pays no attention to him at all. The hierarchy is unmistakable, even amongst the Accepted, and it’s evident that Reü, despite being the nephew of the keeper, has little influence over Vilder.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to Reü over my shoulder—although I know it’s not my place as a human to interfere with their hierarchy—but he just shrugs and drains his glass before stalking over to a couple pretty Rean females.
Turning back to Vilder, I whisper so Reü won’t hear, “Is that why you don’t want to bond anyone? Because you don’t want to share your powers?”
Vilder looks away. A sternness settles over his features, replacing the casual openness of his expression. “I have my reasons,” he says in a clipped voice. “But power’s got nothing to do with it.”
It’s quite clear that the topic is off-limits, so I let it be. He probably feels powerful enough alone. He has a bonded wolf, after all.
A bonded wolf. A bonded wolf he keeps hidden from the C’elen.
The pieces interlock. This makes no sense. He of all should want to bond. If what Reü said is right, Vilder willdieif he doesn’t bond anyone. I study his stern profile. He can shape-shift? A million questions are at the tip of my tongue, but I don’t dare voice even one.
Lost in thought, I startle as Marduk appears, striking his scepter at the top of the wide stairs leading down to the ballroom from the level of the mezzanine. From the corner of my eye, I see how Reü straightens, his shoulders tightening.
The room falls silent as everyone stands at attention.
“She is here. She is descending. I present to you the ashina, Lady Morgana, C’elen mother and the high seat of Rea.” He strikes his scepter five more times, then steps to the side to reveal the graceful Rean female.
I stand, then sink into a deep curtsy, sneaking a glance at her through my lowered lashes as she strides down the stairs. Morgana’s ivory skin is a stunning contrast to her raven hair, which, despite her age, shows only a few silver threads. Sapphire eyes, tilted above high cheekbones, scan the crowd as she glides across the room.
I’ve seen her once before—at a distance during Seniia and Vilder’s initiation—but up close, her features are even more striking. She carries herself with a grace I have yet to witness, and I can’t help but notice how her powers hum around her as she passes by. My eyes glide to the pristine white wolf at her side, but I’m quick to avert my gaze when the wolf’s eyes lock with mine.
We rise slowly, in unison. At the far end of the ballroom, the ashina now stands on the small podium, and the Initiated—their faces a mix of hope and apprehension—form a line in front of her. With a slight nod, she gestures for the first two to approach, holding aloft a white dagger that must be crafted from the same heartstone as the Arc.
The female to the left has the same ivory skin and black hair as the ashina, making me think the two must be from the same area. She extends her left hand, and her sapphire eyes widen as the ashina creates a quick slice across her palm. The ashina does the same to the other—a petite female with a cascade of chestnut curls and freckled golden skin—then the two turn toward each other, pressing their bleeding palms together as they recite the sacred words of the bond after the ashina.
“I, Iulya, willingly bond my heart, my breath, my soul, and my magic with Meran, from this night until the eternal night claims me in its embrace.”
The ashina’s gaze shifts to Meran.
“I, Meran, willingly bond my heart, my breath, my soul, and my magic with Iulya, from this night until the eternal night claims me in its embrace.”
“From this night to the eternal night.” The ashina’s voice is not loud, but its power makes the walls vibrate.
“From this night to the eternal night,” the crowd echoes.
The two bonded females stare at each other with wide eyes as what I can only assume is the feeling of the bond settles, and even though the grin they share signifies they’re more than happy with the bond, my own chest tightens a little more with each bonding I have to witness.
Two bells later, I cannot breathe anymore, and I sneak out of the crowded room unnoticed. If anything, I’m sure they’re happy to be rid of my presence.
chapter twenty-one
SPACE. I NEED SPACE.AND air.
Clutching the skirts of my dress with one hand, I run down the hallway, the doors to the bridge outside opening of their own accord as I approach—just in time for me to retch all over the meticulously planted flowers below. I slide down with my back against the railing. Witnessing so many elen willingly and quite literally give their souls away to another has made me more than just a little nauseous. The cool night air fills my lungs as I fight back the rising tide of panic, each breath a desperate attempt to regain control.
I wonder if anyone has bothered to tell them what it’s like to have another person control them. Most of them have known each other for no more than a year. What do they even know about each other? And to never be free, to never be able to escape or hide from another person. The thought sends another wave of nausea through my body. I stumble to my feet, the bile rising in my throat, and another round of vomit erupts onto the colorful blooms below.
Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I cross over the bridge to one of the seven spires. The farther away from the ball, the better.
This part of the Arc is foreign to me. Having made it to the end of an exceptionally long pergola, I climb to perch atop the wide stone railing, cherishing the gentle breeze as my feet dangle freely in the air. The sound of the waterfalls is almost deafening on this side of the Arc, and a quick glance down between my feet confirms my location at the island’s end, where the land abruptly falls away. As I peer into the dark abyss, the cascading waterfalls sprinkle my skin with their pearly drops. My soul feels like shattered glass, scattered to the seven winds, and the deep ache in my chest is like a constant yearning—a desperate longing to vanish—to find myself somewhere far, far away from all of this. How easy it would be to end it all.
