“What about your other magic?”
He looked away, gazing out to the dark sea, knowing I meant his Deathwalker magic. “That belongs to death and can only be shared with the darkness. Or the dark ones.”
My skin crawled, and a cold shiver wriggled up my spine. “The dark ones?”
“The dead. And those beyond this world. Like in Morgäven and the Land of the Dead.”
Pyrion interrupted with another groan. I looked at her, almost grateful for the intrusion, because I didn’t know what the hells to say.
The tip of a large wing was extended to me, and Pyrion groaned again.
“Tell her we won’t be flying today,” Wolfe instructed. “Tell her we’ll go out another time.”
My lips parted to say the words, but I paused, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. I recalled how fervently I’d sounded in my journal when I’d decided I was staying here in the magical realm.
My love for the land, the dragons, and the male who had stolen me away felt so real I could almost touch it. It seemed my heart had conquered my mind after that first dragon ride, and it was after that moment that everything between Wolfe and me had changed, too.
Now we were here. And I didn’t know if I could lie to the dragon and tell her we’d fly another time when I was planning my escape.
“Not today, my friend.” My voice cracked. I patted her head. “Another time.” There. I did it. Ilied.
I wondered if she could tell.
If she did, she didn’t show it. Instead, she bowed deeper, showing me the same reverence she did Wolfe.
“She shows me the same respect she shows you. They both do. Why?” I asked softly, bringing my hands together as I looked back at Wolfe.
“Because I made you my Velastra,” he answered, glancing briefly at Pyrion.
My eyes flicked down to the marking on my wrist, and I stared at it for a long moment. “I don’t have anything writtenabout it. I mean you giving this to me. I guessed it must have happened while we were in the Southern Isles.”
“Yes. We were attacked mere moments after I branded you.”
I met his piercing stare, noting the way his jaw clenched and the way his eyes still guard his pain. “My grandmother told me that those cursed like me could never be bonded. You knew that when you gave it to me.”
Something cracked in his expression, showing a sliver of the emotion beneath. “Yes, I knew.”
“A soul bond is… important.” My hands dropped to my sides.
He raised his brows. “It’s more than important. Especially to a Nightblade. I can only give that mark to one person in my lifetime.”
And he’d chosenme.
As I looked at him, I realized it wasn’t madness that made me fall for him.
Gods, I hadn’t lost my mind at all. Whatever existed between us was real. It was true. It was undeniable and raw.
I just couldn’t feel it anymore.
“I don’t think you should have done that.” My voice came out in a hush, catching on the edge of the wind.
“I don’t think we should talk about this anymore.” The walls slammed back up behind his eyes, shutting me out as effectively as a locked door. The brief moment of openness vanished, sealing away whatever vulnerability I'd glimpsed.
“I think we should. I have twenty-one days until my next reset. With everything going on, I doubt we’re going to find the ring this month. I’ll forget you again. Then we’ll repeat the same cycle over and over, again and again, until we can’t.”
“That’s the risk I took.”
“Why?” I trembled out the word. “You have a kingdom to think about. And you’re a prince. You could have anyone you wanted. Why in the six hells would you choose to be withsomeone like me? Someone who’d forget who you were every new moon. There’s just so much…wrong.”
