“Some would argue that ravens are soul-bound as well, since they mate for life and all.”
“People like to argue many things. That doesn't mean they're right.”
I raise an eyebrow. “But you are, apparently.”
“Most of the time.”
I barely suppress an eye roll and turn my mind to everything I know about the raffin. They were created by Lugal, the god of war, bred to combat the massive avian predators of enemy kingdoms. Smaller than the dreki, but no less deadly. Poisonous talons.
The ability to summon lightning from clear skies. And when it comes to their mates, they are utterly, violently territorial. Our history books are filled with accounts of cities reduced to ash after a raffin's mate was killed. Scholars call it the furia, a rage so consuming it doesn't end until everything around them burns. Not exactly the bond I dreamed of as a girl.
My eyes narrow. “You're saying this bond is like the raffin's bond with their mates?”
“Mortiana bargains souls.” He says it like it's obvious. Like I should have figured it out by now. “It makes sense that she'd bind ours. Considering what I felt when you left earlier. And when I heard you screaming on that bridge.”
The scowl on his face deepens, as if the memory still burns.
“But we're strangers,” I whisper.
He shrugs, though the gesture is anything but casual. “Soul bonds don't care about logic.”
My pulse roars in my ears. Repaying a debt is one thing. Being soul-bound to a stranger, tied to him in ways I don't fully understand, vulnerable to a rage that could burn cities if something happens to me? That's something else entirely.
“I can't do this.” I shake my head. “I can't accept this bond.”
“Accept?” He barks out a laugh. It’s a cruel sound. “You think this is a choice? You think I want this?” He steps closer, and the air between us crackles. “I was promised a fair chance at breaking the curse, and instead I ended up in the lost kingdom, bound to an empath.”
He spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue. My jaw drops. Then my anger surges, hot and bright, and I shove it right back at him.
“You thinkIwant to feel the ridiculous emotions of overgrown men? To be bound to one?” I step forward, matching his energy. “I'd rather be bound to one of those stone raffin than spend another moment tethered to you.”
“Ridiculous?” He seethes, closing the distance between us until I'm forced to step back.
My shoulders hit the wall. He keeps coming, caging me in with his body, his fury radiating off him like heat from a forge.
“You gave up your memories,” he growls, his face inches from mine. “You traded your entire past for a place in this godsforsaken city, and you have the nerve to call me ridiculous?”
I bristle, fists clenching despite the raw skin of my palms. I should breathe. I should calm down. Anger has its place, and this isn't it. But his judgment, his arrogance, the way he looks at me like I'm the one who's done something unforgivable, it makes it impossible to stay silent.
“You're collecting bargains for the goddess of death!” I snarl, tilting my chin up to meet his glare. “Don't lecture me about impossible choices!”
The lamp above us flickers wildly. His eyes bore into mine, golden and furious, and for a moment, I think he might do something terrible. Or wicked. I'm not sure which would be worse. Then he steps back. Turns away. Gives me his broad backand the silence that follows. The light steadies. I take one breath. Then another. When I'm certain my voice won't shake, I speak.
“How do we break this bond?”
He turns to face me again, and something in his expression has shuttered. “I assume it ends when you deliver your end of the bargain.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“You're going to help me lift the curse.”
I stare at him. “The 300 year old curse? The one that's turned every raffin, dreki, and wyvern to stone? The one no one has been able to break since before my grandmother's grandmother was born?”
“Is there another I should know about?” he asks.
The arrogance in his voice makes my fingers itch for his throat. I clench my fists tighter.
“According to your friend, you've tried before. Multiple times.” I hold my ground even as he takes a step closer. “What makes you think this time will be different?”
