“Thank you. I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I know not much, and I know sorry can never bring Finian back, but I am sorry,” I said lamely, twining my hands together. I felt Torin’s presence at my back as he grasped my fingers in his own, gently prying my hands apart to hold them.
Peytor’s lips quirked into a smile, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
“Thank you, Ellowyn. But it’s unnecessary. I’ve made peace with it. But this”—he gestured between Torin and me with a finger—“this warrants an explanation.”
Torin chuckled against my back, and I rolled my eyes.
“You were there at my Awakening, remember?” I said, and Peytor squinted at me teasingly. “Or maybe you don’t, since you were preoccupied with Dria.”
“Don’t remind me.” Peytor threw his head back on a groan while Torin and I laughed.
“I’m sure she’d be happy to know you survived. Maybe you should send her something to ease her sadness and pining?” Torin chimed in.
“Okay, that’s enough, you two. If this is how you’re going to be together, then I don’t support it.” But there was no heat to his statement.
The mood was light and happy, and I didn’t want to disturb the bubble of peace I found myself in, but I felt like I was missing something vital.
“So,” I started, and both men sobered. “How are you here, Peytor?”
He quickly pulled down the collar of his tunic, exposing the expanse of skin just above his heart. I averted my gaze from the bones I could see at the top of his rib cage, focusing instead on the black rune that seemed to shimmer in the unnatural light of the Dreamscape.
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a Tethering Rune,” Torin explained as Peytor let his shirt fall back in place. “Because of my magic, I need someone to tether to. I would imagine that you will need one as well, Ellowyn. Essentially, my soul is tied to his. I can call to him, direct him toward my location, as long as he doesn’t obscure the rune. Tethering also allows me to pull him into the Dreamscape with me.”
“Because our souls exist here,” I said, and Torin nodded.
“Exactly. While we see each other as flesh and blood, it’s just the reflection our soul takes on in this place.”
“How did you find all of this out?”
“We have an . . . interesting visitor in camp with us,” Peytor said, his eyes darting to Torin’s, searching for some sort of acknowledgment before continuing. “The Bondsmith was held captive in the south, but Torin rescued her and brought her north.”
I turned in Torin’s arms. “Just a regular old savior, aren’t you?”
Torin blushed before shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a complex I’m trying to fight.”
Peytor snorted. “No you’re not. You saved the Bondsmith, then me”—he ticked his fingers—“now we’re balls-deep in figuring out how to save Ellowyn from her nasty husband. And those are the only ones I know about. Yeah, I think the savior-complex is alive and well.”
Torin made a crude hand gesture at my brother, but I batted it down.
“Focus, gentlemen.”
“Yes, Mother,” Peytor snarked, and I rolled my eyes.
How good it felt to speak to him again, to interact like we did in Hestin. It was just another piece of normalcy, a brief reprieve from the depressing state of my life in Vespera.
But maybethisis where I do the most good—helping Torin and Peytor in the Dreamscape. I could live with that.
“Eventually I want to hear . . . well, everything,” I said, looking straight at Peytor as I squeezed Torin’s hands. “But I know we’re probably on borrowed time right now. There’s no rhyme or reason as to how much time Torin and I are given here on any given night. And I want to help while I can.”
Torin’s arms tightened around my waist as he pressed a gentle kiss into my hair. “Then that is what we shall do,” he mumbled.
Peytor and Torin quickly ran through the basics of their plan, and I chewed my lip in thought.
“It’s notbad,per se,” I hesitated, and Peytor chuckled at my admission.
“What would you change about it, Ell?” Torin asked.
