I was under no illusion it wasn’t also a cage.
The Issaraeth’s hands brushed mine. My skin burned from the contact. I held my breath as he forced something soft between my fingers. “These were in your bag. I’ll turn my back so you can change.”
The rope fell away, as well as the chains binding each cuff together. But the bronze still shackled my wrists, locking down my magic.
When he rose, I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. This was the most obvious I’d ever been about avoiding looking at him. But in this confined space, the risk was too great to play coy.
“Okay,” I replied. I wasn’t going to fucking thank him for holding onto my clothes as he hunted me. Shuffling reached my ears, and I chanced a glance to see if he’d truly kept his word. To my utter shock, he had.
Without hesitating, I tugged at the hem of the tunic and tore it overhead. Unfurling the bunched clothing, I found a thicker pair of pants and a sweater I’d managed to grab in my hasty escape from Ithuriel’s manor. The shoes I’d been wearing were soaked, and it took me a moment to get them off.
The second I peeled off my leggings, the slick floor betrayed me, and I slipped. The Issaraeth’s hand clamped around my arm, steadying me.
He was so, so close. The scent of him—stormwood andsmoke—filled my nostrils. A tendril of wet, iron-gray hair hung in my periphery.
I sucked in a sharp breath, focus trained on the largest ring in the trunk. With shaking hands, I stepped into the fresh pants and fastened the buttons.
“I’m good now,” I told him after his touch lingered longer than I liked.
He released me like he was letting go of a lover.
Ducking my head, I laid out my soaked clothes near the entry in hopes that they’d dry before our departure. But with the moisture in the air, it was highly unlikely. When I finished, I settled as far away from him as I could with my back to the tree trunk and head on my knees.
The Issaraeth made no sound or move to settle into sleep, despite the fact he always went to bed after me and rose before I did. His eyes seared into me, making my skin pebble, as it always did under his violent scrutiny. I remained perfectly still, like prey pinned against an unforgiving surface while a predator circled.
Anger, stormier than the downpour outside, curled inside me. How nice it would be to drift off now, with rhythmic patters to lull me into a sense of peace? Yet there was no safety to be had here. In these close confines, with my fated mate mere feet away and his intent fully resting on me, sleep was for the naive.
Would he try to touch me?
He seemed like he wanted to with how his gaze lingered day after day. The innuendos he’d made. The sensual way he said my name.
There was no way he could know about our bond. Only I was tasked with carrying that burden.
For now…
The voice whispered in the back of my mind. Fear wrenchedmy stomach. That our true connection would be discovered almost felt inevitable at this point. How much longer could I keep this up?
Doubt, an insidious poison, infected me, aided by fatigue and frustration.
You have to keep trying, Sylaira. Don’t give up.
So despite the ache in my muscles, the blooming headache at the base of my skull, I remained in that balled position, fighting every instinct to remain awake.
Sleep was surrender, and I would never bow to the Issaraeth.
14
The world blurred at the edges as I raced away, my legs moving as if I were running through waist-deep sand. I pumped my arms harder in a desperate attempt to increase my pace.
I had to get away, get away, get away…
A horse let out a shrieking neigh behind me. Where were Zuriel and Heraphia? I chanced a glance over my shoulder, a cry ripping from my throat as I beheld the Issaraeth and a dozen others devouring the distance between us.
My friends were nowhere to be found. Had they been caught already?
Something pearlescent flashed off to my left, and I whipped my head to the side, finding Heraphia barreling straight toward me. The aquamarine of her irises had been swallowed by pure ivory.
Air lodged in my throat. She was mid-vision and galloping forward, arms outstretched, rather than collapsing. Unease dug into my marrow. Something was very, very wrong.
