Please, not now. Please.
The feeling dissipated like smoke in the wind.
And when my eyes adjusted to the forest once more, a snowberry bush appeared…along with the scent of water in the air.
This had to be it.
Heart leaping, I rushed forward, curving around a bough, and found the thick, steaming stream.
“Thank you,” I choked out, nose stinging as I glanced skyward, toward where the Goddess watched over us.
She’d given me this cursed bond, but She’d also given me a way out of it.
I turned, following the flow uphill at a jog. Vaelsur couldn’t be far now.
My lungs burned from the effort. From the altitude. From the lack of air.
But I kept pushing toward safety. Nothing else mattered.
A laugh rumbled from above, and I snapped my head up, finding the Issaraeth and the auravane perched in a tree overhanging the water ahead.
“You were so close, little fugitive. What would you have done if you’d made it?” he crooned, branch creaking like the warning before a storm breaks.
A scream shredded my throat, and I jerked my gaze away before it could accidentally collide with my mate’s. Snatching at my magic, I shoved light into my ears, blocking all sound.
Heavy thuds shook the ground beneath my feet as I raced back into the forest.
I knew, I fucking knew, he hadn’t lost me.
Arms pumping, legs striking at a frantic pace, I tried to weave around him and snatch haven from the temple.
But crashing footsteps closed in on me.
I couldn’t look. Not with the risk it posed.
The trees thickened around me, like a cage closing in. A sob wracked my chest. Even the forest worked against me, thick, hanging vines dropping and threatening to entangle me.
I had been so, so close.
Stop it, Sylaira. There is still time.
Determination gritted my teeth. I shoved down the pain, harnessed my terror to push my body to its limits. After all the Vaelaï I’d done, I was no stranger to it.
I sensed movement from my left and shrank right, hitching my steps at the last moment. The bird sailed past me.
I ducked under a low branch, leaped over another, stuck out a hand and spun around a trunk. Years of dancing had made me agile, able to turn on a moment’s notice.
Because ifhetouched me…
I refused to even consider it. Refused to give the possibility breath. Refused to let it live.
A presence pressed down on me, malignant and preternatural. My ribs cinched tight as I saw him between two trees ahead. The Issaraeth stood, arms crossed and waiting, looking like he’d barely exerted himself.
Why wasn’t he using his magic on me?
He didn’t need to. To him, I was already caught.
Anger flared white-hot inside me.
