I prodded the logs on our fire with a stick. “I suppose it’s possible.”
He paused. “Do you really think so?”
I realised he’d been making a joke. I was still unused to his strange sense of humour; not every sentence out of a person’s mouth needed to be humorous. I couldn’t help but bristle.
“I knew of a magical sword once, so it isn’t unheard of.”
Stefano scoffed, and my fists clenched involuntarily. He said, “What was so magical about this sword? Did it give the owner inhuman strength and speed?”
“Actually, yes.”
His brows rose. “Really?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. It was cursed. It’s lost to history now, but it was real once. I saw it, and I watched it turn the finest of men into villains with its power. I watched them die for thesword. Its power was drawn from the four elements, but the hold it had over the bearer was unnatural. Dangerous. When King Arthur died, the sword was entombed with him, never to be seen again.”
I hadn’t thought about Excalibur in decades. Centuries, even. The last time I’d seen it, it had been set into the stone sarcophagus in Avalon.
To change the subject, I asked, “How are you feeling now?”
I’d felt the poison flooding Stefano’s body through the bond. The red scar on my chest, hidden by my high-collared, wool dress, had throbbed unpleasantly, a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. The scent of sweet decay emanating from his wound had confirmed it: the wolf had been sick. It was either rabid or had eaten something it shouldn’t, and its saliva had poisoned Stefano, and if I hadn’t moved quickly, it likely would have passed to me.
“Much better. Thank you, Morgaine.”
I looked up, catching his eyes. They burned golden brown in the glow from the campfire. The sun had begun to set as we’d sat there, cooking and eating a couple of rabbits I’d trapped while he slept off the poison. The way he was looking at me right now, with the setting sun behind him and the warmth of the fire on my skin, I could almost forget he was a witch hunter.
Almost.
“After the ritual, you’ll never have to see me again.” I couldn’t be sure why I said it, but I watched Stefano closely for his reaction.
A casual half-smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I can hardly wait. Do you want to get some rest? I’ll take the first watch.”
A shiver ran down my spine. Could I trust this man not to murder me in my sleep? Our lives were magically bound, if hehurt me it would only hurt himself, too. And it had been a long, exhausting day.
After a few moments of silent deliberation, I decided. “Alright. Wake me in a short while, please. I’ll prepare the ritual while you get some sleep.”
Silver moonlight flooded the clearing,turning the stream into a shimmering ribbon weaving through the trees. I stood in the centre, the items we’d need for the ritual laid out around me. The Book of Enchantments opened to the page with the life bond enchantment, the vine to bind our hands, the silver dagger to draw both of our blood, and a piece of wood Stefano had carved into a vessel we could scoop the water with to wash away the bond.
“How much longer?” Stefano asked, beside me.
I looked up at the sky, reading the moon and stars. I closed my eyes and felt the cool breeze ruffle my hair as I listened to the world around me whispering and sighing. “Just a few minutes.”
Kipper rubbed against my ankle and mewed.Scared.
I bent to run a hand along his back and scratch behind his ears. “It’s alright, Kipper,” I murmured. “I’ll be fine.” He prowled over to a tree stump and leapt onto it to watch, eyes glowing ethereally in the low light.
I’d practiced the incantation over and over as Stefano slept, committing the words and rhythm to memory, but as the hour crept closer my eyes kept returning to the page on the floor between us. This had to work, we had to get it right or we wouldn’t have another chance for a full month. I wasn’t sure I could stand to spend another month with this cocky, infuriating man.
“Now,” I whispered to Stefano as I felt the familiar tingle that told me midnight—the witching hour—had arrived. His expression was grim as he bent to scoop the water and picked up the vine to bind our forearms together. I picked up the dagger with my right hand and held out my left for him to entwine with his own.
Our voices wove together as we chanted in Latin, “Vinculum dissolve, animas diverte, vitalem vim libera.” Stefano’s deep voice resonated as he spoke with perfect pronunciation, I could feel the words reverberating in my chest as he finished binding us and held his palm up. I took the dagger and cut both of our palms, just enough for blood to well to the surface. Stefano barely grimaced as the blade ate into his flesh, and our chanting never faltered. We clasped our injured hands together, and Stefano took the shallow bowl of water he’d collected at midnight and poured it over our hands, washing away the blood and the bond I had mistakenly made between us. I felt a sharp pain in the mark over my heart and gasped out the words without stopping. The ritual wasn’t complete and I refused to risk failure by stopping now. Stefano was clearly in agony too, as he doubled over, pressing his free hand to his chest.
I used the dagger to slice through the vines that tied us together, symbolically severing the connection between us. They fell to the forest floor in tatters, and still we didn’t let go of each other's hands or cease our chanting.
When the pain faded, I felt weak and drained. I let my voice fall away and slowly released Stefano’s hand from my grip.
“Did it work?” He asked, voice rough and ragged.
“I’m not sure.” I pressed a hand to my heart and watched as he unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and pulled it aside to reveal the mark the bond had left.
