One moment I was in the New York Bloodwright chamber, binding myself to Alaric, and then the next I was in a small bedroom, toys splayed on the floor, light streaming in from the windows. I was much smaller, my feet not even touching the floor when I swung them over the side of the bed. I noticed theCarsthemed bedsheets and realized suddenly that I must be in one of Alaric’s childhood memories.
I had no control over my body, simply an observer within Alaric’s mind as he got up, his feet padding across the floor to open his door. He walked down the hallway, his young voice calling out to his mother.
“Mum? Are you up?” His small voice echoed down the hall. No one answered.
A sense of dread and apprehension pooled in my belly. I knew what memory this was. I felt tears sting my own eyes as I felt Alaric’s confusion. He leisurely walked down the hallway, towards his parents’ bedroom, wondering what could have kept his mother from waking him up to the smell of pancakes and Bruno Mars playing in the kitchen; how she normally woke him up on Saturday mornings.
He knocked on the door, raising his voice. “Mum? Are you okay?”
Still no response. He carefully turned the knob and opened the door, the light from the hallway pooling into the dark bedroom. His mother’s form was bundled under the covers on the bed, eerily still. He sauntered over, his head cocking in uncertainty. He could smell the lingering scent of her shampoo—lilacs and honeysuckle.
He gently patted her shoulder, noting how her long dark hair splayed across the pillow in waves. “Mum?”
He shoved her a little harder this time, but still no response. Panic and anxiety began to take over as he reached for her hand, noting how cold it was. Like ice.
Before I could even process that memory, I was thrust into another. It must have been a few years later; Alaric a little taller and surer of himself. This time he was standing in a sparring gym, the mat beneath him sweaty as he was once again slammed down onto his back, the breath knocked out of him. His father glared down, disappointment evident in his green eyes.
“Again,” Richard ordered, taking a fighting stance once again.
“What does this have to do with my magic?” His voice was a little deeper now as he tried to catch his breath. He stood slowly, the pain and aches in his limbs making it difficult. I had a feeling he had been at this for hours already.
“There will be times when hand-to-hand combat is necessary,” Richard explained, his fists up and ready to fight once more. “Your magic could be depleted. You must prepare for every situation.”
“Why punch a guy when I can just set him on fire?” Alaric countered, the rogue thought of setting his own father on fire flitting across his mind momentarily.
In response, Richard swung his leg low, knocking Alaric off his feet again, the pain from hitting the mat making his teeth grind.
“You can’t always be using your magic. The Stonebound can sense it.” His father corrected, leaning over him. “Do better.”
Once again, I was swept away into another memory; this one much more recent. I was staring at myself, as Alaric, from across the library. I was sitting with Sara-Kate when she mentioned going upstairs to the teacher’s lounge to grab a snack. We left, and Alaric followed closely behind, his focus set on my retreating figure. A feeling of anxiety and protectiveness rushed through him; the need to follow was so strong he couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to.
He watched as we fled into the storage room, avoiding the teachers. He stayed close to the shadows, using his magic to conceal him. Once the coast was clear, he walked towards the door and leaned his ear against it.
“Mari!” Sara-Kate screeched.
Without another moment’s hesitation, he pushed the door open, a terror he had never quite experienced gripping his heart, threatening to pull it right out of his chest. He barked an order at Sara-Kate, leaving no room for argument as she finally relented and left.
He fell to his knees in front of me, my head in my hands as I fought off the worst headache I had ever experienced until then. He took my face into his hands, forcing my blue eyes to meet his. His thumb ring began to burn red-hot, the pain slicing through him so intensely that he almost pushed me away.
“Alaric?”
“Headache, right?” He asked, pushing through the pain. “Been happening for a while now?”
“Yes,” I groaned. “Every day. They won’t stop.”
Suddenly, the idea came to him that the ring was trying to tell him something, but it didn’t make sense. This was his father’s ring, and his father's before that, and his father's before that. A Bloodwright heirloom passed down from mentor to apprentice. Only Bloodwrights could be trained by their own bloodline.Unless . . .
He took the chance, sliding the ring off his thumb; the relief was almost instantaneous as he slid it onto my pointer finger. What should have been much too large morphed to fit perfectly, the heat dying down to a cooling wave as it gave me relief in that same moment.
He looked into my eyes and the thought imprinted on his mind:my Twinflame.
I was thrust back into reality, in my own body, and faltered forward, about to crash to the floor when Alaric caught me, his deep green eyesreflecting the same shock and empathy I was feeling. If I saw glimpses of his own memories, then he must have seen some of mine.Great. No one warned us about that.
He held me steady as the light and heat receded from our joined hands. The golden sigil death mark had encroached itself onto Alaric’s skin, forming a perfect binding when our hands were held together. The mark glowed and then softened, fading until it just looked like a faint scar on both of us. The throbbing in my hand had disappeared, but in its place was what felt like a tight tether, strung loosely around me for now, but connected to Alaric in a way I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. I felt stronger, my power thrumming more deeply throughout my body, as if it were fully awake and purring. I looked up to Alaric, noting the wonder and awe in his eyes just before he crushed me to his chest, as if he could keep me there forever.
And Iwantedhim to. I wanted to stay in his arms forever, to stay with the one who had saved me, the one who understood the grief I myself endured. Ineededhim. And that, beyond Stonebounds or murders or blood-binding rituals, scared me the most.
The only sound I could hear was Alaric’s rapidly beating heart, in tune with my own as if the blood-binding ritual had reset our biological bodies to be in sync in every way. His breathing was ragged as he pulled me closer still, resting his chin on my head.
