Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (5 page)

His voice cracked as he spoke. His father had been anything but fair in his dealings with Aren. Cruel, cold, unforgiving of anything he perceived as weakness.

Yet Aren thought this was the best thing.

“That’s settled, then,” I said. The words felt flat, foolish, but there was nothing else to say. I shifted my weight and dragged my fingers through a new patch of beach, and scooped a pair of shining treasures into the palm of my hand.

Aren’s shadow fell over me as he leaned in. “Find anything there? Gold? Priceless jewels?”

I held my hand out toward him. “See for yourself.”

He looked down at my treasure, two pieces of glass. One green, one brown, both with edges smoothed and surfaces dulled by the rocks, sand, and water. He looked back up with eyebrows raised. “That’s the treasure? Garbage?”

“It’s not garbage.”

“It’s broken glass that somebody once threw away, or that floated off one of those shipwrecks you mentioned. It is the very definition of garbage.” Amusement touched his voice, and I realized that he was as glad to have a brief change of subject as I was. Everything else would catch up with us soon enough.

I stood and walked farther, pausing to pick up a few more bits of glass, and handed a clear, freshly broken piece to Aren. “No. This is garbage.”

He turned it over in his hand. Some student had broken a bottle here and left the remains behind. Aren closed his fist around the glass and winced. When he opened his hand, blood welled up from a puncture in the center of his palm.

I frowned. “I can’t heal that for you.”

“I know. You don’t need to. It’s only pain.” We watched as the bleeding stopped. His magic could handle small injuries, even larger ones if they didn’t kill him too quickly. It didn’t make him invulnerable, though.

“This,” I continued, and placed another piece of glass in his hand, “is treasure.” Another piece of glass, but amethyst-colored, turned lilac by its pitted surface. The sea had worn the edges so smooth that aside from its color, the glass was indistinguishable from the round pebbles that littered the shore. “I suppose it was garbage once, but after a while it becomes beautiful. Do you see?”

He rolled the glass pebble between his fingers, and nodded. “No one’s ever going to mistake it for a gemstone.”

“No. No chance of a dragon stealing it.”

His smile widened slightly, and he looked from the glass to me. His eyes softened. “It’s beautiful like the rocks. Like the forest, or driftwood.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t see those things like you do.”

“You’re learning.”

He turned back to the water. “It reminds me of you, a bit. The people in Luid, the ones I grew up with, had this cut and polished kind of beauty, like diamonds. Bright, but boring before long, and all the same. You’re like…” He studied the purple glass I’d given him. “You’re like this. It gets lovelier the longer I look at it. More interesting.”

Sharp pain spread through my chest. “I know what you mean.”

He stooped and picked up a shard of green from the ground near his feet. “What about this one?”

I took the glass and looked it over. “Almost there. See how this edge here is clear? It’s just broken recently. The ocean needs to work on it a little more. It’s a shame, the color is good.”

Aren moved away and sat on a weathered piece of driftwood that had landed above the tide line, a bleached log covered in swirling patterns. I followed, and we watched the waves as they crashed gently over the pebbles.

The future wouldn’t stay away forever. Much as I tried to remain in that moment, thoughts of losing him crept into my mind. True, things had been hard. He was miserable, we almost never had time together, our lessons were a constant source of frustration that ended in us fighting more often than they did in me accomplishing anything. But I loved him. That hadn’t changed.

My breath hitched, and he reached for my hand. I threaded my fingers through his and wiped away a few tears that escaped in spite of my commands that they stay hidden.

I looked at the unfinished glass in my hand. We were safe here, or we had been until today, but neither of us were getting anywhere. We weren’t making any progress, weren’t moving toward our destinies. We were both stuck, afraid of making things worse, afraid of hurting each other.

I released Aren’s hand and walked toward the water. I pulled my arm back and threw the glass in an overhand toss that sent it spiraling though the air and back into the ocean.

When I turned back, Aren stood with his arms held open. I hurried back and held him tight, pressing my face against his shoulder. “What if we don’t get washed back up on the same beach when this is all over? I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll come back, I swear. Not even death could keep me from returning to you.” He released my hair from the ribbon and trailed his fingers through it. “Maybe you’ll be the one who discovers you want something else once I’m gone.”

I shook my head. “Never.”

“Don’t worry about me. Focus on learning what you can while I’m gone. I hope you’ll be able to stay out of this, but you need to be prepared for anything. You got rid of Severn once. Maybe you’ll do it again.”

“I surprised him that time.”

He chuckled softly. “You surprised everyone that time.”

I kept one arm around his waist as we turned to walk back toward the cliffs, the school, and the inevitable future. As we reached the base of the hill, a handsome red fox face peered down at us from the long grasses at the top.
Albion.

“I think our time’s up,” Aren said, and tried to give the purple sea glass back to me. I closed his fingers over it, instead.

“Take it with you,” I said.

“I don’t need anything to help me remember you.” He spoke softly, either to keep Albion from hearing, or to hide the emotion in his voice. His expression was as unreadable as I’d ever seen it.

“Then take it as a gift. It’s all I have to give.”

He nodded, and slipped the glass into his pocket. “Thank you.”

When I looked at the top of the cliff again, the fox had disappeared. We were alone, at least for the moment. Aren pulled me close, and I stretched up on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck.

“I’m going to miss you,” I whispered.

I kissed him hard, fiercely, trying to force every word we hadn’t spoken, every opportunity we’d been denied, and everything we’d miss after he left into a single gesture and moment.

His magic surrounded me, cold and dark, as familiar to me as my own. I always noticed it in these moments, when our bodies and hearts entwined. He said mine was like sunshine, bright and warm and filled with promise. I found his no less beautiful for its chill, and wished I could keep it with me after he left.

Albion waited for us at the edge of the forest in human form. While Aren had to be careful about transformations because he lacked the ability to form clothing after he changed back, his grandfather had no such difficulties. Aren had told me that it took Albion decades to master that difficult magic and form the dark brown robes he always wore, but it obviously still troubled him that he couldn’t figure it out. He had such high expectations of himself, and so much of his identity was wrapped up in his abilities.

No wonder he’d been miserable when he wasn’t allowed to use most of them.

As we walked, Aren explained his plan to Albion, who listened and nodded and made suggestions for routes and methods of travel. I listened, and tried not to worry.

“You’d better get back in there,” Albion said to me as we reached the school.

“Am I in trouble for leaving?”

He smiled kindly. “No, but please pretend you are. Emalda won’t have a bad example set, you know.”

I thanked him and hugged Aren again. “Don’t you dare leave without saying goodbye,” I whispered.

He released me. “After everything we’ve been through, you don’t trust me?”

I forced a smile. “Not at all.”

I walked back into the school, past the library and the classrooms now filled with teachers and students, and went straight to my room.

One more night,
I thought, and laid down to rest while I still could.
He’s safe for one more night.

T
hat evening
, I flew.

I soared over the island toward a waterfall that was all but inaccessible on foot, clutching a bar of soap in my talons. A warm bath would have been more pleasant, but I didn’t feel patient enough to prepare one, and there certainly weren’t any servants in my apartment over the carriage house to do it for me.

Best to get used to hard living,
I thought. Gods knew what I’d find ahead on the road.

I supposed I was fortunate that I had an evening to prepare for my journey, that they hadn’t forced me to leave as soon as Severn’s ship departed. Instead, I would leave at dawn, at which time I would leave myself open to whatever ways Severn had of tracking me, at least for long enough to convince him I’d left the island. He would be searching, and he had found me before.

I hadn’t mentioned that part to Rowan. She would worry enough.

Moonlight glinted off the water as I landed on the flat rocks next to the river at the bottom of the roaring falls, and transformed. The frigid air hit my skin like a slap, and I hurried into the water to get it over with, slipping over smooth, algae-covered rocks as I went. Perhaps coming all this way to freeze my bones had been a stupid decision, but it had felt important that I get away from the school. Flying cleared my mind, and physical discomfort would help me focus on the important things.

I gasped as the water covered my body, and took a deep breath before stepping under the waterfall. The cold chased all thought from my mind, and I emerged with a string of curses on my lips.
Stupid decision, indeed.

At least I had no reason to worry about freezing to death. My magic protected me from that fate as much as it did death by injury—not perfectly, but far better than someone without magic could manage. It worked without direction from me, and seemed to prioritize its work based on what would best keep me alive. Had I been injured, my magic would have focused on that even if I nearly froze while it worked, and even if the injury were too severe for my magic to heal it. As I was in good health for the time being, I was free to suffer through the icy river beating down over my head. My magic didn’t make me comfortable, just as it didn’t protect me from pain or exhaustion, but I would survive.

These involuntary uses of magic used up a disproportionately large amount of power compared to anything I controlled, but I had no fear of running out. There was plenty here to draw from.

I’d planned to use the time to think over my options concerning my new mission, but found my thoughts returning to Rowan. She had great power in her. Not only was it evident in the destructive effects she caused when she tried to use it, but I’d felt it myself. She’d healed me on several occasions, back when she was able to. The sensation had been uncomfortable to me at first. Now I only wanted to feel her magic flowing through me again.

If only she could break through whatever was still blocking her and use it for her own purposes, she would go down in history as one of the great ones. I felt it as much as I knew it.

I didn’t realize I’d become lost in my thoughts until my legs turned numb and the current dunked me underwater. I hurried to climb out of the river and braced myself against the cold until I had dried enough that my feathers wouldn’t be soaked when I transformed. The soap had drifted away. Small loss.

I flew hard on the return journey, and my muscles warmed as they worked. Still, I looked forward to a warm fire and one last night in a soft bed before I set out. There were so many things that I failed to appreciate until they were gone.

My clothes and my key were at the edge of the woods where I'd left them, and I hurried to dress before anyone should happen to pass by. I walked around the outside of the carriage house before I climbed the stairs to my door, as was my habit. I felt nothing out of place, and no one around.

I tried to light the logs in the fireplace using magic. It didn’t take the first time. The skill was familiar enough now that I could usually avoid any unexpected effects from using the magic, but I still had trouble directing enough power to generate more than a tiny flame. I cursed again. Hard-won as this skill had been, I still expected more from myself. Expected to be more like Severn.

But he had been born with fire in his blood. I had not, and so I fought for every flame.

On the second try, the fire caught on the rough bark. Still not good enough, but it was something. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about packing a flint for my journey.

I’d just finished laying out clothing to take with me when I heard a soft tapping noise. I stretched my awareness, then hurried to unlock the window and help Rowan over the ledge.

“I have a door,” I reminded her, and took her into my arms. Her damp hair smelled faintly of flowers. She felt natural in my arms, like an extension of my own body. I pushed down the physical ache that rose in me at the thought of leaving her behind. I still resented the way these new emotions sneaked up on me, seemingly outside of my control.

“You do have a door,” she said, “one that faces the school. I’m not taking any chances tonight.” She looked up and grinned. “Besides, where’s the fun in that?”

I looked out to where she’d climbed up a downspout onto the roof. Her idea of fun was often rather different from mine.

She stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed next to my clothing and the other supplies I’d laid out earlier. She left her long jacket buttoned, leaving only her knees exposed over the tops of her boots. “You’re really going.”

“Looks like it.”

She picked up a sheathed knife and turned it over in her hands. Her dark eyebrows knit together. “You’ll be careful?”

“As much as I can be and still get this done.”

At least she didn’t ask how long it would take. I wasn’t prepared to think about that, myself.

“I have complete faith in your abilities,” she said. “I still can’t help worrying. You’re going to be out there on your own, with no way to contact us if you need help. If something happens...” She set the knife down. “I could come with you. I know my magic’s not useful most of the time, and does more harm than good. But I could watch out for you while you sleep.” She looked up and forced a sad smile. “I know. I’d just be one more thing for you to worry about.”

“And somewhat distracting,” I said, noticing the bare flesh at her throat, her uncovered collarbones when she turned and her jacket fell further open. I forced my gaze back to her eyes. “At least if I only have myself to worry about, I can escape danger by flying.”

“True. I guess that makes me feel better. You will, right? Fly? Flee?”

“I have nothing to prove. I’ll do whatever it takes to get where I need to go in one piece.”

“Good.” She went to the fireplace to poke at the logs. “Could you stay that way? Aquila would be less conspicuous. As a person, you’re recognizable. Even people who have never met you can’t help seeing that you’re not an average person.”

It still made me smile when she called my eagle form by the name she gave it before she knew who I was. How things had changed since then. “It would make basic survival easier, too, but I can’t. Sorcerers who have animal forms and stay in them too long get strange in the head.”

“What do you mean?”

“They take on more animal characteristics, even when they return to their proper bodies. There are stories about Lyloch, a Sorcerer who lived in Luid during my grandmother’s time. He learned to change into a wolf-dog, and by all accounts he used his skill well in the queen’s service, spying for her, traveling through the winter and finding his way into enemies’ homes when compassionate servants let him in. They say he would go weeks at a time before changing back. He became vicious as a dog, and then mean as a human. He began to prefer the company of dogs, snarled at people who got in his way. Started to run with wolves.”

“What happened to him?”

“They caught him ripping a whore’s throat out with his teeth.”

“You mean—”

“In human form, yes.”

She paled. “Okay, so don’t try that. But I’m still glad you have the option. Will you promise me one more thing?”

“I might.”

“Don’t be afraid to accept help.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Rowan rolled her eyes. “Fine. Don’t be stubborn about it, then. If Severn is causing trouble for people, you might find support out there. There must be people who want your father back.”

I packed the single bag I’d be taking with me, rolling my clothing to fit, adding knives and food and other necessities. “So be cautious, but be trusting? Sounds perfectly logical.”

She crossed her arms. “It worked for us on the way here.”

True enough, but that had been when I had her faith in people to balance my skepticism and natural mistrust. I wasn’t sure I could manage the same on my own.

“And you do have friends out there,” she added. “I’m not saying you’ll run into any merfolk while you’re crossing Tyrea—”

“But it’s a big world, and stranger things have happened?” I offered a smile to soften the hard, disbelieving edge I heard in my voice. Her optimism was easier to stomach now than it had once been, but I couldn’t share it.

She shrugged. “My point is that you made friends with them once. Maybe that was a different time, and you were a different person. But you did it. There have to be more people out there who won’t hate you on sight.”

“You did.”

“You changed my mind, though.” She slipped a hand into a pocket in her coat and pulled out a pair of vials. “Courtesy of Emalda. She said there’s not much she can do for you that you can’t do on your own with magic, but these will help you stay awake and aware if you find yourself in a situation where you need them. For emergency use, not for every night.” She produced another tiny flask. “And this will speed healing if you apply it directly to a wound.”

I accepted the gifts and tucked them into an outside pocket of my bag. “Please tell her I said thank you.”

“She’s warming to you.”

I snorted. “You’re the second person who’s tried to tell me that today.”

“It’s true. She doesn’t speak badly of you now, and she does want to see you succeed and survive. I don’t think she’s forgiven you for things that happened in the past, but she finds you useful, and I think she’s stopped worrying about you using certain talents.”

I sighed. “That really doesn’t make me feel better. A young dragon is less fearsome if its fire is doused and its teeth pulled, too. I have no intention of becoming a lap-pet to her or anyone.”

Rowan tilted her head. “You still have your claws, though.” She stood and pressed her body against mine, grinning in that way that drove me half-mad. I rested my hand on her hip and gripped the fabric of her coat. It slid without resistance against the smooth skin beneath.

She leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “I like your claws.”

I wondered what she’d think of me if my fire returned, if I went back to looking into people’s minds, bending them to control their thoughts and actions. She hadn’t been too keen on it when we first met, and still seemed overly concerned any time she thought I might have used it. I’d given it up for her as much as for Emalda’s rules.

Those thoughts fled when she pulled me into a deep, long kiss. Her hand slid over my chest and around the back of my neck as her lips pressed against mine, warm and real. Occasional shared dreams were pleasant, but were no better than pretty illusions compared to this.

My body instantly became more alive, and her touch made me shiver as it chased the night’s chill from my flesh. She laughed deep in her throat and kissed me again. I wanted more, but the talk of dragons reminded me about the gift.

“I have something for you,” I said.

“I bet you do.”

Instead of answering, I went to my coat and pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from the pocket.

She gave me a curious look. “What’s this?”

“Open it. I didn’t know I’d be leaving when I had it made, so it’s not a farewell gift. I just thought you’d like it.”

Rowan gasped when she pulled the cloth open. “It’s incredible!”

“You don’t mind? Celean helped me get it from your room.”

She held up the necklace, a silver chain with a flat, ruby-red pendant hanging from the bottom.

I’d found the dragon scale cracked after her binding broke. Rowan had decided to keep the pieces hidden deep in her closet in case she ever needed a reminder of the incredible power within her. The silversmith hadn’t been able to put a hole through the teardrop-shaped remnant to hang it. He’d had to meld silver to the edges and do it that way.

“Of course I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s incredible. I wonder what Ruby would think of it.”

“You might find out some day. We still owe her a story.” The dragon had released us on the condition that we return and tell her how things turned out for us. It had to be the strangest way anyone had ever escaped from a dragon’s lair, and I doubted anyone but Rowan could have done it.

She lifted her arms to hold her hair up behind her head, and I reached behind her neck to fasten the chain. Her hair fell back around her shoulders in heavy waves as she rubbed her thumb over the pendant’s surface, admiring it before opening a few more buttons on her jacket and letting the scale settle against the bare skin over her heart.

She faced me. “What do you think?”

“Perfect,” I whispered, and she smiled. I think she knew I wasn’t talking about the necklace.

“The story’s not over, though, is it?”

“Not remotely.”

She left the necklace on all night. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe her coming to my room only made it harder for me to leave the next morning. I needed sleep before a long journey, but I needed her more. She didn’t have to use words to tell me she felt the same.

I saddled a good horse and started out long before dawn, after Rowan left to sneak back into her room. There was no one else I needed to say goodbye to. Albion would understand if I left quietly. I rode through the remainder of the night, and reached the bridge not long after the sun crept over the horizon.

Over the winter I had grown accustomed to keeping my defenses up, to doing everything I could to keep Severn from sensing my precise location. As I dismounted and led the horse across the narrow bridge, I dropped those walls, opened myself to whoever might be looking for me, and hoped that by staying that way as I rode deeper into Tyrea I would draw his attention away from the island.