Her gaze sharpens, suspicion etched across her face. “Why there?”
“Because Malric might have answers about the bond, and he’ll either be in Varric’s Hollow or someone who knows where he is will be,” I say simply, meeting her glare head-on. “He’s the only one I know with the knowledge and the power to unravel an ebon chain. Assuming he’s still alive.”
“And if he’s not?”
I shrug, the motion casual, even though my stomach tightens at the thought.
“Then we’re both screwed. But either way, we don’t have a choice. You want the bond gone, don’t you?”
The silence between us stretches taut. Zara walks on, her head hanging as she refuses to look at me, wrapping her arms around her body again. It’s a terrible tell and the witch needs to get better at concealing her emotions. Zara doesn’t realize how transparent she is—her arms clutched around herself, her posture stiff, like she’s trying to hold herself together before she shatters.
I let her walk ahead, keeping my distance as the tension between us stretches like a fraying rope. The bond hums faintly, a low thrum in the back of my mind, feeding off her unease and amplifying my own. I find myself wanting to hold her, to comfort her, and I don’t know what to do. She’s burning with anger that fades into something colder and quieter. Maybe it’s guilt. Or fear. Or shame. She’d never admit to what itis, but I’m certain I don’t like it and I want it gone.
“You do too,” she spits, and her pace increases.
My stomach clenches and my heart shudders. I’d almost forgotten I had one, and even then all it did was pump blood around me. But this ache and burning longing is uncomfortable and a damn inconvenience. I don’t want the witch and I still despise her for all she is and everything she represents. I detest her chaos, her rebellion and her spirit, but they’re flowing into me and I cannot be without them anymore.
She’s like a drug I’m hooked on and I never want to abstain from her. I want all she has to offer, the good trips and the bad. I want the soaring highs and the crashing lows, and the damn blood weave has me tied to the girl who I should hate more than anything else in this god-forsaken world.
I am so irrevocably fucked.
“That’s it?” she says suddenly, her voice sharp enough to slice through the silence. She glances over her shoulder, her glare cutting. “Your grand plan is a coin toss? Hope Malric’s alive; hope he knows what to do? What if he just laughs in your face and tells us to live with it?”
“Then I’ll make him talk,” I reply evenly. “Or I’ll find someone else who will.”
She snorts, the sound derisive. “Great. Very reassuring. I feel so much better now.”
Her sarcasm grates, but I don’t rise to the bait. I know she’s scared, and I also know she hates that I see it. Zara’s picking a fight for the sake of it and she doesn’t care what it’s about. She wants to make herself feel better by putting some distance between us and the ebon chain doesn’t like the way she’s trying to move us apart.
“You don’t have to feel better, Zara. You just have to keep moving.”
She doesn’t answer; her steps quickening as if she can outrun me. Outrun the bond. Outrun herself.
But she can’t. Neither of us can.
The bond flares—hard and sudden, like a spike driven straight into my chest. I stagger, biting back a curse as the world tilts for half a heartbeat. Zara gasps ahead of me, her hand flying to her chest, and I know she feels it too. The ebon chain is acting up again, stronger than before.
“Stop!” I snap, and she freezes, spinning to face me. Her glare is as sharp as a blade, but there’s unease beneath it. Those deep green eyes stare at my chest as if she knows, and maybe she feels the pain coursing through me.
“What are you doing?” she demands, her voice shaking despite her best effort to sound angry.
I don’t answer immediately. The pulse of the bond doesn’t fade. It twists, a coiling pressure that makes it hard to breathe. My magic rises instinctively, as if it’s trying to push back against whatever is happening, and for a second, I wonder if the bond is reacting to something—or someone—nearby.
“It isn’t me,” I say, stepping toward her, my gaze sweeping the surrounding trees. The forest doesn’t feel any different and there’s no danger in its shadows. I push my magic out and Zara stiffens as the air stills and I search for anything that could be a threat. My magic still isn’t working properly, but I’m thorough and it’s only when I’m sure we’re both safe that I step back and drop my guard.
“What was that?” she presses, her voice rising.
“That was me protecting you, darling,” I say grimly. “The blood weave pulled us together and as far as I understand, it usually forces proximity if there’s a threat to it or us. I assumed that came from outside, but in the absence of an intruder, I think we can safely say it’s unhappy with how we’re behaving.”
Zara blinks, her confusion melting into fury. “Unhappywith how we’re behaving?” she echoes, her voice sharp enough to cut. “Are you saying this thing—this bond—has feelings now?”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’d almost begun to respect the witch and somehow, almost impossibly, she manages to prove just how stupid she is when we need her to be the fucking opposite.
“Intent, not feelings. Blood weaves bind, Zara. Every other one has been entered into freely and when the bond senses discord or disturbance, it reacts. That’s why proximity is enforced if necessary. That’s why it’ll inflict pain if it has to. It will do anything it needs to stop us from tearing each other apart.”
She shakes her head and I hate it.
Her eyes flick to mine and I’m sure she hates the furious stare I’m sending her.
