“I know what the word means!” My sigil flares, and for once, I'm grateful for the burn. “I just don't understand why you'd think?—”
The air crackles, sharp with the same energy I felt on the bridge. My chest flares with anger that isn’t entirely my own. I see it mirrored in his eyes. The lamp above us flickers. I realize, with dawning horror, that I’m not afraid of him.
Ishouldbe. Every instinct I have says I should be. But the fear never comes. I shake my head, sorting through everything I know about bonds. I’ve been fascinated by them since childhood, since I first readMystical Bondsin the Veritas library. Back then, they seemed romantic. Magical. Now it feels like a trap closing around my throat.
According toMystical Bonds, the Creators forged bonds after the unicorns were hunted to extinction, a safeguard to protect the remaining avian creatures of the realm. Before the bonds, the dreki, wyvern, and unicorns were treated as tools. Weapons. Beasts of burden to be used until they broke and then discarded like rusted blades.
The unicorns were poached for their horns and the healing magic within. The dreki and wyvern were conscripted into transport and war. All of them, along with the raffin, were put into a deep slumber by the curse, turned to stone until someone finds a way to lift it. The alatuses are the only avian creatures that escaped that fate, and no one knows why.
In Lunaris, we don't have natural bonds. But the Council requires the alatuses to be bound to their legion guards through an alchemized elixir meant to mimic the real thing. Shame curdles in my stomach as I look down at my fingernails. Still stained. A permanent reminder of every elixir I made, every bond I helped forge against nature's will.
I stopped making them two years ago, much to Mother’s dismay. But refusing to continue doesn’t erase what I've already done. Maybe this is Mortiana's way of making me pay. Retribution, after all, doesn't expire.
Yet, I refuse to accept that after years of wondering what it might feel like to share a bond with one of the majestic creatures of this realm, to feel that ancient, sacred connection, this is what I’d get. Not an alatus, or a dreki or a wyvern.
Him.Of all the creatures in this realm, I gethim.
It's absurd. All of it. But I force myself to breathe and remember one crucial detail: bonds must be accepted by both parties. That’ll be my way out.
“You felt my panic through the bond,” I say slowly, testing the theory aloud. “That's how you found me. Which means if I'm injured, you'd feel it. And vice versa.”
Surely no warrior would want that. To be tethered to an empath, to feel every flash of fear. It's unheard of. Unnatural.
He tilts his head, something unreadable shifting behind his eyes. “It's more nuanced than that.”
“How?”
“What do you know about ravens?”
I frown. “What do ravens have to do with anything?”
“You have ravens here,” he says impatiently. “What do you know about them?”
“I'm an avian healer. I'd like to think I know enough.”
His expression shifts. The anger drains away, the frustration, the barely leashed impatience. What's left is something I haven't seen on his face before. Shock.
Pure, unguarded shock. His eyes roam over my face like he's seeing me for the first time, like I’ve just rearranged myself into something he didn't expect. I’m so busy trying to piece together what ravens have to do with any of this that I almost miss the shift. The way his shock hardens into something else. Something calculating.
A cold shiver traces down my spine.
“You're a healer?” he asks.
His voice is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that precedes a trap snapping shut. I bite my tongue and keep my face blank. I was trained for moments like this.
If I can survive Mother’s interrogations, Freida’s cold dissections of every lie I’ve ever told, I can survive this man’s scrutiny. I shove my fear down and reach for something else. Anger isn't ideal, but it’s close to the surface, banked and ready. I let it rise.
“I'm an alchemic healer,” I say, stepping away from the lamppost. “I specialize in winged creatures. Now tell me what ravens have to do with any of this.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn't look away. “You know they mate for life.”
“Of course.”
“And the raffin? Did you study them as well?”
I cross my arms. “Are you going to quiz me on avian biology all night, or are you going to say something useful?”
He presses his lips together as if I'm the one wasting precious time. “Unlike ravens, raffin are soul-bound to their mates.”
