I kept vigil for the rest of the evening and into the early parts of night, watching Faylinn’s back rise and fall shakily as her labored breathing fought to keep her alive.
Eventually, her body stopped shaking, her lungs ceased their rattling.
And I thought for sure she had died.
I flung myself at the bars that separated us, not caring for the clanging that echoed through the space and woke the other men and women.
They didn’t matter.
But Faylinn did.
“Faylinn,” I whispered urgently as I stuck my arm through the bars, desperate to touch her, to feel her warm skin against my palm, to ensure she was still alive.
My forearm got caught halfway through, her body just beyond the reach of my fingertips. I strained against the barrier, desperate to reach her. A keening noise came from somewhere in the cells, loud and low. Like an animal caught in a trap, certain of their death.
It took a minute, in accompaniment to the yells of “shut the fuck up” from others in the cells, to realize the sound came from me.
I pushed against the barrier again and again, until my torso was cut and bleeding as I desperately tried to force my arm further through the cage to reach her.
“Faylinn!” I cried.
“Lex. Be quiet.” Faylinn’s voice was a low rasp, barely a whisper, but I somehow heard it over the cacophony I was making.
Immediately, her voice halted my actions. I sagged against the bars of the cage, my arm suspended, as I greedily sucked in lungfuls of air. My eyes closed, and I rested my forehead against the bars of the cage.
“Fucking finally,” someone muttered from a nearby cell.
“Crazy fucker,” another grumbled.
I half-heartedly stuck my middle finger up before letting it fall listlessly to my side.
“Fay?” I whispered again.
I heard the rustling of hay and a quiet groan before her forehead was pressed against mine through the cage.
“Lex.” Her breath fanned over my face, the smell that was so inherently her washing over me as I inhaled. Her presence instantly calmed me, and I pulled my arm through the cage only to push it back through, closer to her so I could touch her, ensure she was actually alive.
We stayed like that for what felt like a quiet eternity—our foreheads pressed together, fingers delicately stroking each other’s faces and necks.
“Lex, what happened today?” Faylinn finally broke the silence.
My eyes fluttered open to hers, only to find confusion and desperation in her gaze. My brow furrowed involuntarily, and one of her thin fingers came to rub in between my eyebrows, trying to soothe my worry.
“You don’t remember?”
She shook her head slightly.
“I do. I remember the . . . visions the Pain Mage gave me. I’m asking aboutyou. What happened withyoutoday?”
I paused, contemplating how to word what I experienced in the torture chamber earlier today.
“There was a Vessel,” I began, and Faylinn nodded encouragingly. “Something drew me to her? It’s hard to explain. It was like my very soul knew hers, wanted to be with her. She felt it, too. It’s why your torture stopped. Because she took her hands off her Mage, so he couldn’t channel anymore.”
Faylinn hummed for a moment, never ceasing her stroking.
“What did it feel like?” she finally asked.
“Like my blood was boiling. Like my very soul was on fire. Like that fire would consume me entirely if I let it.”
