But even as I spoke another, darker thought took shape. If breaking the bond was impossible, then Seren would have to remain by my side or continue to be a threat to me. Forever. Because my place wasn’t here.
Lucia finished binding the cloth and buttoned Seren’s shirt. “I’ll help you carry her back to your tent. Get some sleep. I fear trouble tomorrow.”
Chapter 17
Seren
Throughout the night, my dreams had been dark, twisted images of death. The glazed, soulless eyes of Giulia as a skinwraith. A yellow glow, deep within. A crack and shattering of bone as I crashed into a tree, over and over.
My damp shirt clung to me as I yanked myself from sleep, nausea roiling my stomach.
I’d been moved to my tent, back on my bedroll. The last thing I remembered was my mother giving me a tonic. Judging by the depth of the darkness outside, though, it was still well before dawn.
Rykr slept on the rug near the stove, bound in irons.
I’d told him he wasn’t a prisoner here, but I’d gone back on my word when it was inconvenient.
And he’d tried to escape.
Except … he’d come back.
We were no closer to trusting each other. No closer to breaking the bond. No better prepared for the Skorn. But dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything, I just had to do better.
Pain shot through me as I rose.
My torso was bound in cloth, but the pain had dulled. Mother’s healing skills were unusual, blending Zhi techniques with Ibarran magic, and she’d learned more since moving to the Dreadwood.
Grabbing a jar of healing honey from my bedside, I tiptoed to Rykr.
The bond might be clouding my judgment but, dammit, so was he. He’d upended everything I thought I knew of Liriens.
The Viori had told me they were vicious. Zealots who cared more about enforcing the Bloodbinding than truth.
But I hadn’t seen that in Rykr. He’d disarmed my claims with thought and logic, but it was more than that. There was something about him—steady, deliberate, infuriatingly calm—that made it impossible to see him as a mindless soldier. And three times now, he’d gone out of his way to protect me.
The bond pulled me toward him, but it couldn’t explain why I was starting to want to trust him, and that terrified me more than anything.
Kneeling beside his feet, I studied him in the warm glow of the stove.
Dammit, I like him.
We hardly knew each other and yet I’d spent enough time to come to that conclusion on my own. He’d also kept his promise not to hurt me. Even last night, he’d slept far from my side, never making me feel unsafe.
Liking him—especially when I still didn’t know who he was or why he was in the forest—was dangerous, but it didn’t make it any less true.
I pulled the pin from my hair. As I unlocked the irons on his ankles, he jerked awake.
He rolled over, blinking at me. “What are you doing?”
“Taking the irons off.” I repeated the process with his wrists, my heart clenching at the welts on his skin.
The sweet scent of honey filled the space as I dipped my fingertips into the jar. “May I?” I gestured toward his ankles.
He gave a gruff nod.
I spread the honey over his wounds, using the barest pressure to avoid causing him pain.
“Thank you.”
