He eased the wood open on silent hinges. Minutes passed while he checked the interior. Sweat dripped down my spine, each bead yanked into existence by the muggy air. My best friend swiped at her brow, then fanned her face.
I shifted my weight to my other foot.
Where is he?
I glanced at Heraphia. Her teeth worried her bottom lip. Our thoughts were definitely aligned. They always had been, really, ever since we were younglings. I honestly couldn’t remember a time without her in my life. She was more like a sister to me than anything. As sentimentality rose, I reached out and squeezed her hand. She returned my reassurance.
Zuriel appeared a moment later, whispering, “It’s all clear.”
With one final survey of the surroundings, I slipped inside. Zuriel sealed the door behind us, then dragged a heavy carved bench in front of it. “Extra protection.”
I wasn’t going to argue.
The air was stifling on the inside, overheated and thick with moisture from summertime rain. I shucked my boots off and dropped my pack, muscles breathing sighs of relief.
We padded to the pantry, finding potatoes, grains, and dried meat. I snatched a piece and chewed the tough game, the age far less important than filling my belly.
Anything was better than the emptiness I’d had for days.
In silence, we gathered food to cook a small meal. Zuriel opened some of the windows to the inner courtyard. We didn’t dare risk the outward-facing ones that would give us away should someone ride upon the estate.
The brief relief of the airflow vanished when the pot started to boil, heating the kitchen again. Garlic and herbs filled my nostrils, making my stomach rumble. Discomfort forgotten, all I could think about was more food.
And virelthorn leaves.
“I want to hear more about your fated mate, and how you know it’s the Issaraeth.” Heraphia set her bowl down, her eyes narrowing on me.
I nearly choked on my gulp of soup. I’d never shared my first vision with her. Only my parents knew because they were there. For days after, I’d been inconsolable. Missed nearly a week of school.
When my best friend asked where I’d been, I claimed illness. The following week, she had the same one.
From what I’d overheard, our parents had no idea why we’d been gifted our powers so young. Yet both were concerned and spoke of ill omens.
Heraphia and I never really discussed it, not until years later when the Goddess shoved a horrific vision into my mind while she held me andbore witness.
I pounded my chest, clearing my airways. Zuriel slurped the last of his broth, watching me intently.
“Oh, come on, can we not talk about this now?” I huffed.
“Not when you dropped information like that in the middle of our closest escape yet,” Heraphia chided. “Mates aren’t common, Sylaira. Our Radiant Mother gifts them to Her most blessed. So to bind you and the Issaraeth? I need to know everything.” The trickle of hurt in her tone didn’t escape my notice.
I raked a hand over my face. Disgusting and exhausted, I could have killed for a moment of reprieve. And Heraphia—Goddess damn her—knew that this was the time to corner me for information because of how quickly I’d give in for a chance to rest and bathe. Not only that, I’d kept something so important from my best friend, it must have felt like a betrayal.
I swallowed around the lump of panic in my throat, rising with the phantom memory of what I’d Seen all those years ago. “It was my very first vision.”
Heraphia’s brows shot up her forehead. As did Zuriel’s.
“You knew all along he was your mate?” Zuriel pressed, frowning.
I shook my head. “I only knew what he looked like. I didn’t know it was the fucking Issaraeth,” I hissed out his title like it stung me to even say.
“To be fair, it’s not like the Elessarum kept a shrine to the crown in the temple,” Heraphia shrugged.
“Thank you,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “I tried to draw him, but every time I put charcoal to paper, it came out wrong. Like the edges of the vision were fuzzy, and my fingers couldn’t translate what was so harshly seared into my mind’s eye.”
“You’re a much better dancer than painter,” Heraphia commented, her lips twitching into a smile.
It was true. I’d excelled during our dance classes and beenthe bane of our art tutor’s existence. Mostly because when I fell into the rhythm of movement, I almost felt like I could shed the cloak of the visions that haunted me. Like I was dancing inside the eye of the storm, finally still and finally free. When the music stopped, I was incandescent and eclipsed all of my problems.
