In the time it takes to flap a wing, I’m no longer in the cold dark forest, surrounded by gryphons with anger issues. Now I find myself standing inside a massive tent, the kind I’ve seen in period movies or at Renaissance festivals.
“Holy shit. You actually did it,” I exclaim, looking over at Wekun, completely shocked.
Awed, I look around at the sparse dark wood furniture that’s been placed on top of overlapping, beautiful, jewel-toned carpets. The large rugs are laid out on the ground so the floor is completely covered and cushy. Inside the canvas walls of the tent is spacious. There’s a large bed and side table, a seating area that has massive cushions that look very inviting and relaxing, and on the opposite side from where I’m standing is a small washroom with a copper bathtub, a sink-like basin for washing hands, and...a large bucket.
It says a lot about how fed up I am with Pigeon’s mates, because I don’t even question how smart it was to just up and pop away to who knows where, with a person I don’t know, until right...now.
Like he can sense my instantaneous concern and discomfort, Wekun squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry, Falon, I portalled your mates to the Gryphon camp that’s just next to ours. They don’t know where they are, and they think I took you, but I feel like that might be just the reality check they need at the moment, don’t you?”
I pause, not sure what to say. There’s a part of me that feels bad. They were just magicked somewhere unknown and might be going through some issues with that. Then another part of me screams that I need to get over it. I can’t keep operating like Zeph, Ryn, and Treno have common courtesy, decency, or genuine concern when it comes to me. If not for the fact that their lives are tied to mine, they probably would have killed me or left me behind a long time ago. I promised I would help end this war, but I didn’t promise to let them shit on me and emotionally beat me down while I do.
“Where are we?” I finally manage as I drop-kick my empathy and try to adopt a more hardened mien. Zeph is right, this world isn’t easy on soft feet or soft hearts.
“Oh...right, sorry!” Wekun offers sheepishly, his smile apologetic and kind. “Falon, welcome to the Ouphe stronghold,” he announces, pulling back the front drape of the canvas walled structure we’re standing in and revealing a tent city as far as the eye can see.
Well, fuck me, we’re exactly where I was trying to get.
I step under Wekun’s arm, and thick cool air greets me. It’s quieter than I would have expected from a place that clearly houses so many people. Something about this place reminds me of images that I’ve seen of refugee camps in my old world. The tents are various sizes, but all made from an animal hide that’s the color of light sand and has a suede look to it—only way thicker than any material I’ve seen back home.
People move around the camp, going about their business, and they don’t even bother to look over at Wekun and me as we stand and stare and I take it all in. The ground is covered in a soft and rich looking soil that’s the color of espresso. It looks wet, but although the sky is overcast and gloomy, nothing else around me gives the impression that it’s rained in a while. The air is dry and brittle, and I get the distinct impression that the spirit of the people who live here just might be too.
There’s a palpable sadness in the air, a tension reverberating all around me, that I feel. Nadi said that the Ouphe have been waiting for a Bond Breaker to come and help them, and right now I can sense how true that is. I know that in the eyes of the Gryphons, the Ouphe are to blame for all of the wrongs done to them. I don’t know if that’s completely true or not, but I can see that the people who live in this tent-dotted stronghold are suffering.
This place feels broken.
9
Ilook to Wekun, concern bubbling up in my chest, but I’m not sure what to say. Questions alight in my eyes, and he just nods his head solemnly like he can read my mind, or maybe it’s my face that’s communicatingwhat the fuckloud and clear. Either way, he obviously understands what I’m saying without speaking a word. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I need to see more of this place than one minute of observation, but if the people here are as downtrodden as it feels like they are, how the hell are they going to help us?
I’ve been picturing a place like Vedan in my mind. The way the Gryphons talk about the Ouphe like they’re still this hated ruling class, and the cliff castle they built that hid a city in its bosom, they’ve completely fucked with my expectations of what we would be walking into. This doesn’t feel like a proud, strong race of beings, they feel...terrified.
I look over and catch eyes peeking through a crack in the doorway fabric of a tent across from me. As soon as my eyes land on theirs, the fabric closes all the way and they scurry off, like they’re petrified that they were caught.
“Come, we have about five minutes, but we can talk as we go,” Wekun explains, walking out on the well-traveled pathway that winds between tents.
“Five minutes until what?” I ask as I fall into step next to this incredibly attractive stranger who—for some reason—I feel like I can trust implicitly.
He smiles, and I try not to drool or read into it. I crack a whip at my libido. It’s gotten me into enough trouble already. I’m not fucking anyone else, maybe ever again. Man, that’s going to suck.
“Five minutes until your mates start tearing this camp to the ground in search of you.”
I snort. “Blame the horny half bird inside of me for those three. They’re her mates, not my mates. I wouldn’t have picked that assortment of assholes if my life depended on it.”
Wekun gives me another hump-inducing smile. “It may very well depend on it. You need to lead them home,” he tells me cryptically. I push the automatic trust I feel for this guy aside and study him. He’s very tan, and I can’t tell if it’s from a lot of time out in the sun or if it’s genetics. His white hair is buzzed, which isn’t a hair style I’ve seen in this world, and his champagne-colored eyes look like they swirl with a whole fuck ton of secrets.
“Who are you again?” I ask, needing to know more and questioning why I haven’t asked before now.
Has this world fucked me up? I’ve been forced to go with the flow so much that it’s some kind of fucked up habit for me now. If this dude was driving a creepy white van and pulled up in front of me, smiling and telling me to hop in, would I do it now without question? I shake my head at my behavior and tell myself to get it together and trust no one.
I take a step to my right, creating more distance between myself and the mysterious Wekun. He smiles, like he thinks I’m adorable. Shit. Can this dude read my mind?
“I’m like you, Falon, a Bond magic user.”
I stop in my tracks and narrow my eyes at him. “Wait. I thought Nadi said there were no more Bond magic users left. That’s why it was so important for me to come here,” I ask, confused and immediately more suspicious.
Fuck. If Zeph was right about this being a trap, I’m never going to hear the end of it. That is, if we don’t die.
“There are other Bond possessors, you’ll be meeting your Sept not far down the road, but Nadi didn’t lie when she said you were the only one who could fix the Vow.”
