He had risked more than he let on by ensuring our escape attempt remained hidden.
And I didn’t know how to feel about that. Or anything to do with our relationship.
If one could even call it that.
I crept through the adjoining bathing chamber, pausing to survey myself in the mirror.
My silvery locks were a wild tangle, having tossed and turned so much after forgetting to find another tie for my hair after leaving my other in Vaeron’s room. I smoothed out the snares, then secured them at the top of my head with a leather band. After a quick sniff, I decided a change of clothes was also necessary. Yet as I stood in front of the wardrobe, indecision gripped me.
Why did the thought of seeing him send my pulse into a crescendo?
What he had done for me the previous night had undeniably shifted my opinion of him. Iwantedto see him again. I hated myself for that. Hated the bond too. Because while he’d carried me in his arms, the agony had abated.
And not just from the distance I forced between us.
I inhaled a shaky breath and grabbed an indigo top and matching skirt. Tried not to think about how he always wore the same dark color. Yet I couldn’t help the excitement thatflowed through my veins as I donned the clothes. They truly flattered my complexion—and his.
We were an unintentional mirror.
With a limp, I trekked through the silent gathering chamber. Even the kitchen was devoid of inhabitants.
Everyone was spent after another long day among the smoke and crystal chairs.
I knocked on the exterior door, lightly so as not to wake anyone. The lock clicked, and then a Sightkeeper appeared in front of me. “Right, you,” was all he said before he stepped aside.
The Issaraeth glanced up from a bundle of parchment at the sound. His eyes immediately collided with mine. My stride hitched. His iron-gray hair was still slightly damp and hung loose around his shoulders. Stubble graced his strong jaw. And a simple tunic stretched tight across his broad chest.
Why did he have to be so infuriatingly handsome?
Without taking his gaze off me, he folded and tucked the parchment away. “Sylaira,” he greeted me, his voice rolling a shiver down my spine.
“Issaraeth,” I replied, looking up at him.
When had I closed the distance between us?
“After you,” he said, sweeping out a hand.
I shook myself out of the hold of the invisible rope tying us together and continued on toward the healer’s feather. We walked in silence, so much unspoken hurt stretched between us.
Finally, I cleared my throat. “Thank you.” Flicking a glance in his direction, I tried to gauge his reaction.
But his expression remained stoic, unaffected. “Of course.” The words were cold, distant, like he was interacting with me from the other side of Keleti. They stung like I’d jumped into the ocean in the middle of water.
Frustration nipped at my nerves. One day his intensity scorched me like high sun. The next, he withdrew into the glaciers of the Skala Mountains.
But was I any better?
Would we ever align? On anything?
We were doomed.
Something in my chest trembled at the thought. I couldn’t decide if it was my heart or our bond. I didn’t have to dwell long as the arched entry to the treatment area emerged around a bend in the stone.
“Will you wait here?” I blurted out while we were still alone, fingers twisting in my flowy skirt.
It was dangerous. But I couldn’t help but blur the line between us again. He was like a drug, and I was helplessly addicted.
The Issaraeth halted, his head tilting to look down at me. His voice was velvet, but something flickered behind his eyes—fragile, aching hope. “Is that what you would like?”
