Maybe in that way, Seren and I were alike.
She’d bravely fought to keep me alive. Been belittled and punished for it, too. All because of a sense of duty and honor that went far deeper than anyone around her believed necessary.
“I will never hurt an innocent woman, Seren. I never have. Even a Viori. Good night.”
Chapter 11
Seren
I needed a damned strategy.
The night had been long, sleepless, punctured by the sounds of Rykr shifting on the rug, his stomach growling occasionally. He was probably ravenous, but that was his own fault—I’d given him food. If he chose to turn his nose up at it, his hunger was his responsibility.
Despite my lack of sleep, I rose with renewed energy and purpose. Maybe I couldn’t break the bond while in my encampment, but I only had days to learn as much as I could about the Skorn trial before Seth dragged us to Emberstone. Our repository had books on that, some that even elders of our tribe had written.
Unfortunately, today was a market day and my time would be limited.
Every Lysday, each Viori tribe set up a market in the middle of their encampment, selling and bartering goods. Most stocked up on food for the coming week on market day, as I would need to do.
My family also maintained a market stall. Tara and I prepared pelts and dried venison, while Mother made potions and jars of healing honey infused with Ibarran magic.
Madoc normally sold handcrafted wooden tools and trinkets, and it was incredibly difficult not having him here. He should be home. He should have found Esme. Gods, is he okay?
Has he found where they’ve taken Esme?
Esme had been gone for over a month now. The longer time passed without her return, the more I worried they’d come up against some obstacle—or, worse, had been captured themselves. If that was the case, how would we even learn what had happened to them?
I’d been tempted more than once to ask Amahle to use her spirit gliding to try to see where they were. She probably would, but the farther away a person was, the more Amahle’s gift taxed her.
She’d tried to find Esme the day she was taken, and her heart had nearly stopped. I couldn’t risk that again.
Rykr stirred as I strapped on a bandolier for my daggers. Mother had given me an extra set of clothes for him the night before, but he’d need a chance to bathe soon. I should probably tend to his wounds, too. Like him or not, he was my responsibility.
“How’s your back feeling?” I squatted beside him.
“I’m fine.” The timbre of his voice was deep from sleeping.
A rugged, self-assured swagger marked the way Rykr carried himself, and that was unbelievably appealing—in addition to his attractiveness. Ignoring the tug of interest coiling through me, I touched the hem of his shirt. “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
“Actually, it might be easier if you just take the whole shirt off.”
Rykr said nothing as he complied. I’d seen plenty of men shirtless before, but with Rykr, I fought the urge to avert my gaze. Fight temptation.
Other men didn’t make me want to reach out and touch hardened chest muscles, run my fingertips over the flat, ridged plane above their waistbands. I dragged my gaze away, my mouth going dry.
It’s just the bond. Isn’t it? His razor-sharp wit the night before had made him utterly likable, even as I reminded myself it could all be a ploy to charm and manipulate me.
Shifting so I could see his back better, I peeled back a bandage.
The skin underneath, though slightly pink, had completely healed. Even the redness had faded. Only the barest whispers of scars remained.
I’d seen my mother’s salves work quickly, but this was different. His wounds had been severe. This kind of healing wasn’t natural.
Then again, he had been able to walk away from the flogging, and I’d never seen anyone do that either. And even though I didn’t share any marks from the whip, I’d felt the full depth of his excruciating pain until my mother had dulled the connection.
“How in Nyxva did you heal so fast?” Despite my unease, I touched the scar, his skin warm and soft below my fingertips. He didn’t flinch.
