“Why aren’t you married?” The question was out before I could stop it, my thirst for knowledge ever present. I flinched, expecting either a bark or a non-answer, but Rohak surprised me when he raised his head and regarded me with a slightly guarded expression.
“Do you practice the old religion?” he asked, which was not the response I was expecting.
I shook my head. “You’d think that a smaller village like Isrun would be more apt to call upon gods and Fate, but it was the opposite in my case. We relied on our own hard work and that of neighbors and friends. There wasn’t much room in our lives for the gods,” I admitted sheepishly. “Not to mention the nearest temple was two days from our village. No one could really afford to miss a full week of work just to go visit the temple of some faraway deity.”
He made a humming noise in the back of his throat but didn’t seem offended. “I can understand that. It was the opposite for me, growing up. I was raised here in the city, but not in one of the wealthy sections. My parents were simple people—my mom washed the clothes of the wealthy class, and my father was in the army. They were extremely religious—we went to the temples of Fate, Kaos, and Solace every week, and they insisted on shrines at home as well. I was raised on the importance of something bigger than me, of working for something better.”
He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. “They were . . . disappointed when I chose to enter the Academy with Alois.” At my quizzical expression he chuckled lightly. “Alois is Lord d’Refan’s first name. We grew up together, just a few houses apart, actually. I can show you sometime, if you’d like.” I nodded my head, enraptured by his story and shocked that he and Lord d’Refan grew up together.
“How did you both come into your positions if you grew up . . . not in this world?” I didn’t want my words to offend him, but he waved me off with a hand.
“You mean poor, Faylinn. It’s okay to say. We were poor. Poorer than poor, quite frankly. But that story is for another time, perhaps. My parents were disappointed when we enrolled, but they understood that my path was what the gods dictated and there wasn’t much they could do aside from telling me it wasn’t a good idea.” He smiled as if recalling some happy memory, but his face fell just as fast.
“They died while I was out on a mission. A fire started in the neighborhood where we lived, and the houses were built so close together that everything caught. They died in their sleep, according to the official report.” My eyes pricked with tears for Rohak, and I covered my mouth with my hands. It was clear by his pinched expression that the memory still hurt.
“I’m so sorry, Rohak.”
He shrugged his shoulders while fiddling with the pen in front of him. “Thank you. There’s nothing anyone could have done, or so I was told. But after their deaths I sort of relapsed back into the old religion, clinging onto something that mattered to them to keep a piece of them with me. And I wanted to believe that they went somewhere . . . happier when they passed,” he whispered the last part like a reverent prayer.
“All of that is to say that I believe in the sanctity of Bonds. So, I won’t take a wife until I find one of my True Bonds.” He looked at me sheepishly, a lighttint to his cheeks.
Was he embarrassed by that admission?
“I think that’s beautiful,” I said as I dropped my hands from my mouth. His head shot up, a look of shock on his face.
“You do?” he asked, incredulously.
I nodded. “Yeah, I do. There’s something oddly romantic about the idea of waiting for a True Bond. And whoever that is, whenever you find them, I’m certain they’ll make you incredibly happy, and you them. Your parents would be proud of you, Rohak, but they’d also want you to be happy, you know?”
He smiled at me, a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you, Faylinn. For listening and for understanding. I-I haven’t told anyone that story, apart from Alois. Everyone else simply thinks I’m a monk. Or asexual.”
I laughed at that, something in me warming at the thought that he shared something so incredibly personal with me. “Your secret is safe with me,” I whispered. He smiled again before it transformed into a yawn.
“Get to bed, General. You’ve got another early morning tomorrow, I have no doubt,” I teased.
“And you don’t?” He raised an eyebrow at me while rising from his chair. I rolled my eyes at him.
“I get to read and take notes all day, Rohak. That hardly counts as taxing work.”
“It sounds taxing to me,” he admitted. “Though I’m not much of a reader, to be honest. Like the empty bookshelves didn’t tell you that.”
I laughed lightly before shooing him from the room. “I’ll lock up and be back at the palace in an hour or two.” He nodded before gathering his things and walking toward the door. He paused at the threshold, like he wanted to say something before he left, but he simply patted the frame before closing the door lightly on his way out.
I sighed and rolled my neck, shaking the kinks from my body before moving to the rug on the floor next to Cotton. I laid on my stomach, head propped on a hand as I opened my book again and began to read.
I wasn’t quite surewhatI was reading for, and much of what I’d already read was common information, things I already knew. I was certain there’d be secrets later in the text, but I didn’t know if I wanted to read that much more tonight. I closedWhen Gods Walked Among Uswith a sigh and openedThe Bondsmith.
Here we go. A children’s book.
Again, I was skeptical about why Lord d’Refan wanted me to read this particular version of the story, but as I was currently employed by him, I figured I had to give it a go at some point.
I cracked it open and began to read. The pages were old and crinkled, but the runes were clear. Someone had very evidently taken care of this particular edition, which was curious in and of itself. I filed that away as a note in my journal to investigate later.
The story started the same as always, the Bondsmith—sometimes a man, sometimes a woman—came into this world to provide balance between Kaos and Solace. They created a Bond between the two gods, creating a ripple effect into our world. Now, each person had someone, or someones, that was made for them. These Bonds provided love, protection, acceptance, and the ability to draw magic from each other.
I started skimming, bored with the usual children’s tale, but something caught my eye as I was flipping. It was an illustration, which wasn’t unusual for a children’s book, but what was curious was what it depicted.
The Bondsmith—a robed and masked person—was kneeling over the bed of a sick man, blood clearly dripping from his nose, eyes, and ears. Next to the Bondsmith stood another figure, this one was whole and healthy. I squinted as I looked at the aged drawing and was able to make out a rune drawn on the sick man’s skin and a similar one drawn on the healthy woman’s forearm. There was a knife in the Bondsmith’s hand, and a small cut on their palm.
