After the phone line went dead, the deep ache and emptiness in my chest, the tight tether that pulled and yearned for Alaric pulsed sharply, painfully. The bond made my grief, my emotions that much more palpable, that Alaric must have felt what I had been. But after that dream, I couldn’t help the deep-seated doubt that the bond I had entered with Alaric was not my salvation, but maybe my demise.
The school day passed by in a tangled weave of classes, catching up on homework, and me worrying about Sara-Kate. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced, her brown eyes flashing about at every out-of-place sound or shove in the hallway. She insisted she was fine, that she just needed to get through the next two days and get some real sleep. I couldn’t help but worry; our last conversation about her growing nightmares and fear made me worry she was falling into the same trap I was currently trying to understand.
Alaric stayed by my side as much as possible, meeting me outside my apartment, walking me from class to class, even skipping his lacrosse practice to sit with Sara-Kate and me at lunch.
Sara-Kate had rolled her eyes, quipping. “The boy is already whipped.” Alaric smiled, admitting that he was quite aware, his grip on my hand the only thing that felt secure in the sea of unease I felt like I was going to drown in.
The bond only relented in the tight pull in my chest when Alaric was nearby. When we were apart, the tug tightened, reminding me ofwhoandwhatI was now. The bond felt most at peace when we were touching—holding hands, arms brushing, sitting thigh to thigh.
But my dream lingered like smoke, just out of reach, enough to make me wary whenever Alaric reached for me. We sat in the training chamber once again, Alaric draining his water bottle as I wiped sweat from my brow. Alaric had spent the last hour teaching me basic hand to hand combat, something he insisted he would feel better about me knowing when we were apart. It was clear the bond was affecting him just as much as it was affecting me.
He wiped at his mouth, his sweaty t-shirt clinging to his chest, his dark eyes locked on me, causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin.
“What?” I asked, suddenly embarrassed. “Something on my face?”
His expression softened. “No. I was just wondering if you saw anything during the binding last night?”
Flashes of Alaric’s memories zoomed through my mind, remembering his pain and grief as if they were my own. I nodded, pulling my knees to my chest. He was standing in front of me, but the hollow space in my chest felt heavy and weighted.
He sat down, taking my hands in his. As was becoming normal, our power flared to the surface of our skin, humming in greeting with one another. I could finallytake a deep breath, his connection to me feeling like a cool breeze in the middle of a desert.
“I saw some things too,” he admitted softly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand where our matching scars were etched into my skin. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shrugged. “If you want. I know it probably wasn’t pretty, my memories.”
“Same.” His eyes flickered to mine, restless. “My life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows.”
“I know.” I gripped his hand softly. “I’m sorry about your mom again. I know you told me, but . . .”
“You saw.”
“Yeah,” I continued. “That day and another when you were training with your dad, and then the day you found me in the library and gave me this.” I lifted my finger, showcasing my now useless ring. Alaric had said one day its use would no longer be necessary, and while I could have, probably should have, taken it off and given it back, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not unless he asked for it. It made me feel better, even though my own magic, tied to Alaric’s, was enough now to keep me safe from the Stonebound.
Alaric visibly relaxed, his shoulders softening, a brighter smile reaching his eyes. “I pretty much saw the same. The day your Nana died, another day where you fainted in a store, and then the day I gave you that.”
“Huh.” I held my ring up to the light, looking at the intricate sigil design that used to glow faintly red, but now lay dormant. “I wonder if we would be able to do that again. Like sharing more memories or something? Maybe even read each other’s minds.”
Alaric raised his eyes in interest. “There is not too much left in the archives about Twinflames, but legend has it they can sense each other on an intuitive level.”
“I guess we’ll find out.” I stretched my arms above my head, willing the sore muscles to cooperate with more training. “I guess we should get back to it.”
He nodded, standing and then offering his hand to lift me to my feet.
I stood, my skin prickling against the warmth of his hand that lingered in mine just a little longer than necessary. He walked me through the basic combat moves again, repeating them until they felt like second nature. I had actually managed to escape one of his holds, using my legs to knock his knees out from under him, and he hit the ground. I grinned, excitement at finally doing something right flooding through me.
Alaric groaned as his back hit the mat, a shadow of a smile lingering on his face.
“She can finally execute a basic low kick, but can she channel?” He teased as he stood, brushing a stray onyx strand out of his eyes.
“Channel?”I repeated, my heart rate finally slowing as I took in his stature, the echo of my recent victory fading away.
“You’ve got the basics of hand to hand down, and we’ve touched on how to channel your magic, but your channeling has been random and chaotic. We’ve got to teach you how to use runes in order to specify how your magic manifests itself.”
He took a step closer to me, the air suddenly thick with warm tension, the power between us shimmering in response to his words. Alaric took my hand in his; the air around us pulsed as he used his free fingers to motion out a shape in the air, fire left in its wake as he spelled something out, just as he did in the library all those days ago.
“Custodia,” he remarked, his breath fanning against my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Rune of Warding. A protection—enough to deflect minor blows or dull the impact of a physical or magical attack. Every novice begins here.”
I leaned closer, watching the rune flicker as if alive. “You . . . just write a shape in the air and hope it works?”
