His brows twitch together. “You do know you’re risking your life by entering such a bargain. What if I don’t uphold my end of the deal? What if I bond with you, use your power, lock you up, and let you waste away?”
The gallop in my chest begins again and I swallow past it. “You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
I said what I did to throw him off, but deep down, there’s a quiet truth inside that slips out as a whisper. “I know my heart. In this world or any other, it wouldn’t reach out to someone like that.”
Zhoric swallows hard. “I once thought that, too.”
As soon as the words leave his lips, I know what I’ve said to wound him and I regret it immediately. “Zhoric, I didn’t mean—”
He lifts a hand to cut me off and I let him, before any more damning words can leave my mouth, before any moreemotions can churn around him and this bond between us. “For all I did after her, I’ve shown the kind of person I truly am.”
I open my mouth to say more, but then I’m lurching backwards, as if pulled on an invisible thread knotted around my middle, and I’m gasping and sputtering water from my mouth, blinking my eyes open.
Sunlight blinds me and I squint and turn away, rolling on the ground, grit sticking to my skin. I lift my head and find Ozias, Atlanta, and Ninon all hovering over me, an empty pail dripping water held loosely in Ninon’s hands.
“What was that for?” I demand.
Ozias kneels in front of me and grasps my arms to help me up. “You weren’t shiftingorwaking up.”
“You weren’t responding at all,” Atlanta elaborates. “What happened?”
I exchange a quick glance with Ozias. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly. What I learned last night comes barreling back to me. Ozias wants me to keep mind walking to Zhoric from Atlanta, but I don’t know if that’s an option anymore.
I sigh, push myself up, and run my hands up my face and into my hair. “I need a minute.”
Stalking past them, I leave the enclosure and head for my room in the Alcazar. I hear steps behind me, soft and distant, the speed matching mine. When we reach my door, I spin around to face Ninon.
“Was the water your idea?”
She stops, standing as still as a tree. “Less so an idea than an impulse. When they couldn’t wake you, I panicked.”
I purse my lips and she walks past me into my room without further acknowledgement or explanation.
“You haven’t done much in here,” Ninon murmurs, meandering around my space. We haven’t had time to visit each other’s rooms. Something we used to do daily, usually multiple times, at home in Nevoba.
“You’ve decorated yours?”
Ninon runs her fingers along the edge of my bedsidetable, clear of anything save a candle in its holder. “With a few things.”
I look around, seeing what she does. A room set up exactly the same as the day Atlanta brought me to it. Ninon on the other hand sounds like she’s started to make this her home. I walk over to the dressing table and sit, considering my reflection in the looking glass.
Weariness shadows my eyes, but that familiar spark of outrage is etched everywhere that the shadows don’t touch. Every choice, from the moment I ran that pin through Alixor’s chest, to agreeing to work with Ozias, to attempting to con the dragon king into bonding with me, makes me feel like I’ve been stuffed into a cave, like a tiny lizard avoiding the scorching sun. I run my fingers through my hair, long, straight, and unbound, black as the ocean at night. I grip a lock of it firmly by my collarbone and rummage through the vanity before finding what I seek.
Without another thought, I grab a set of shears and poise it over my throat. From Ninon’s position, it looks as if I’m ready to slice into my skin.
“Kaisa?” she says my name tentatively, standing utterly still as she takes me in.
Keeping my eyes on her, I slice off a chunk of hair above my shoulder. The freshly cut hair falls to the ground in a tangled heap at my feet. I grab another section, and cut again, repeating the process until my hair is a jagged, uneven mess. All the while Ninon watches. My reflection is feral and feverish. I lower the shears, tears welling in my eyes.
She huffs out a breath and comes to my side. “Let me help you clean it up.”
Ninon does her best to even out the ends. Every so often, she gently runs her fingers down the lengths, soothing my mind with every stroke of her hand.
When she’s done, I shake my head, feeling lighter and, somehow, much more in control.
“Needed a change?” she finally asks.
