“Norah—” There’s something in his voice, but I don’t let myself analyze it.
“I’ll see you at the site later,” I say, sharper than I mean to. I turn and don’t look back.
Rowan doesn’t say anything more as I walk towards my tent, and after a moment, I hear his footsteps moving in the opposite direction. I feel the tug of the bond pull tight as he moves farther away, reminding me that I can never escape him. Not fully. I duck into my tent, zipping the flap shut behind me a little too hard, my fingers shaking. The moment I’m alone, my knees give out. I collapse onto my sleeping bag, burying my face in my pillow.
The tears come hot and fast, soaking my pillowcase. My chest heaves with sobs I can’t control, and I press my face into my pillow, trying to stifle the sound.
Of course he doesn’t want me.
The thought claws at my insides, sharp and relentless. I’m just a student. Too young, too inexperienced, too dangerous for his career. The bond is the only reason he even looked at me twice. Without it, I’m nothing to him.
Nothing.
I press my fists against my eyes, trying to stem the tears, but it’s useless. “I don’t want the bond broken,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I want him. And I want him to want me back.”
The words taste bitter in my mouth. Bitter and foolish and silly.
I cry until my throat is raw and my eyes are puffy, until my tears run dry. Until the only thing left is the hollow ache in my chest.
I suck in a shuddering breath, then another, calming my breathing. I can’t lie in here and cry all day. I have work to do.
I drag myself up, blot at my face with a tissue, and grab my notebook. Work. That’s what I need to focus on.
I head to the dig site, my boots sinking into the loamy forest floor. The forest is quiet, the mist clinging to the green canopy above.
The dig site is alive with the sounds of scraping trowels and murmured conversation, the clink of metal on stone. I welcome the noise, the distraction. I set my notebook down, gather my tools and get to work, returning to an area we were working on yesterday.
Soon, I lose myself to the rhythm of the work, the weight of the tools in my hand grounding me as fragments of a long-forgotten settlement come to life. I pick up a shard of pottery, dusting it off carefully, looking at the markings on it. The sigils are similar in style to the ones on the bonding altar—
My stomach gives a little lurch. Nope. Not thinking about that. I set the shard aside into a mesh-bottomed basket and continue to work. A few others have been working on diggingdeeper into the layers of soil, creating a pit deep enough that a ladder is needed to access it. Already, several artifacts have been uncovered in the pit, making it a promising site. I move over to join them, assessing and cataloguing any bits that emerge.
A few hours pass like this, the sun climbing higher and burning off the mist. Sweat beads on my forehead and rolls down my spine, making my shirt stick to me. I shrug out of my fleece and lay it on a nearby table.
“Norah.” Jill calls my name. “Do you think you could work on a site sketch? We’re down another layer, and we need to mark where all the items are in relation to each other before we bring them up for further analysis.”
I nod and grab my notebook. “Sure thing.” It takes me a minute to find a pencil, and then I circle the pit, looking down at the artifacts and how they’re positioned. I look around, debating the best vantage point for my sketch, and ultimately decide to climb onto the small, mossy ledge above the pit. It’s narrow and slightly slick thanks to the moss, but it’s sturdy enough.
I drop into a crouch, flip open my notebook, and start to draw. The lines of the pit, the scattered fragments of bone and pottery, the way the roots of the ancient trees weave through the earth like veins. My pencil moves quickly, capturing the details as best I can.
I lean forward, peering into the pit and assessing what I’ve drawn so far.
Then the stone shifts.
One moment I’m balanced, the next…I’m not. My stomach lurches as I pitch forward, arms windmilling as I try to regain my balance.
But it’s no use, and I fall.
Seven
Rowan
From across the dig site, I see Norah fall as if everything’s happening in slow motion. The stone ledge she’s standing on wobbles, then gives way, and her arms flail as she tries to maintain her balance, but it’s no use.
She screams as she disappears into the pit.
The eight-foot deep pit that she was standing two feet above.
Even more shocking is everything I feel through the bond. Her shock, her fear, and then—pain. It slams into me as if I’m the one who fell.
