"Pegasi are different." I shake my head. "Alatuses stand twenty-four to twenty-eight hands. Much larger. And they have venomous canines capable of killing a man in minutes."
"I guess you'll have to add animals to the list of things you have to teach me about," he says with a hint of amusement in his tone.
"Alatuses aren't native to Lunaris." I continue working the balm into his scars. "Neither are bonds. But although alatuses don't require bonds to accept riders, the Council deems they must be.”
"The Council deems it," he mutters.
I ignore him. "An elixir is used to bind rider and alatus together. An alchemized bond."
"That's not how bonds are supposed to work."
"It's how ours work."
He shoots me a look. "That's different."
"I thought we agreed you'd withhold judgment."
He faces forward again. "The Creators forged bonds that allow those creatures to choose their riders. Choice is built into the magic."
"How can something forged be natural?"
"Forged doesn't mean forced." His voice softens slightly. "The rider can refuse. Walk away. The bond only holds if both parties consent."
"That's not how it works here."
He doesn't argue. But I feel his frustration bleeding through the bond.
"Natural bonds don't exist here," I say finally. "At least not anymore."
"Would you know if they did?"
The question gives me pause. "You think the memory trade severs bonds."
"I thought you didn't want my wrathful judgment?" He jolts and shoots me a bewildered look when I poke him in the ribs. "Is this how you treat all of your patients?"
"My patients are animals," I say sweetly. "They don't talk back."
His eyes warm as he studies my face, but he shakes it away as he says, “I think the memory trade could sever bonds, yes.”
I swallow. “For years, the Sages tasked me with making the bonding elixirs.”
“And you did it?” he asks, his voice deceptively soft.
“You act like I had a choice.”
"Everyone—" He stops mid-sentence, brows furrowing. He turns towards me again and searches my face. He doesn’t ask, but I answer anyway.
“I was five when I arrived here. Five when I partook in the memory trade. Many of us arrived before our gifts manifested. As far as I know, it was the only year it happened. So, no, Ididn’t have a choice. Not then, and not when my gifts finally did manifest and the Sages discovered I could work with the Shroud mushrooms.”
He swallows. “Gods, Menace.”
He lifts a hand but I pull my own hand back before he can reach it. If I let him touch me right now, I'll shatter. I'm barely holding myself together as it is. If my refusal stings, he doesn't show it.
“When did you stop making it?” he asks, setting his hand back on the bed.
"A couple of years ago,” I whisper. “I stopped making the memory elixirs too."
His eyes search my face. "And now they're punishing you."
