“That’s three times this week,” Caelyndris said, leaning on her staff. “Is she summoning you every time she thinks of an errand for you to run?”
Thyren chuckled. “Going soft.”
Vaelith was unbothered by the ribbing. “You’ll both see when you find your resonant. Makes you stronger in ways you probably never thought to imagine. But you also want to do your best for them.”
“Is she working on something?” I asked, before they could get going again.
“Something about a pattern in the magical fabric of the realm. Perhaps something to do with your twink,” Vaelith said.
“He’s not my twink,” I muttered, the words only highlighting her remark. “Keep me updated. I want this mystery solved.”
“Always.” She slung her sword belt over her shoulder and headed for the armory, her steps quickening as she crossed the training ground.
“I’ll walk you,” I said, jogging to catch up.
She glanced at me, surprised, but nodded. We walked in silence for a moment, cutting across the courtyard that stood between the armory and the practice fields.
“What’s on your mind, Commander?” she asked.
I hesitated. “The resonant bond. How do you know if someone is... compatible?”
“Compatible?” She raised an eyebrow. “Have you met someone?”
“No. I was just thinking about what you said. That it made you stronger.”
“Having someone who is there for you isn’t the weakness everyone in the guard thinks it is, Aeldryc.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Well then, if you meet someone who might be your resonant, you need to get to know them, to get a feel for how you work together. It’s not about finding someone who’s a perfect fit. It’s about finding someone whose rhythm matches yours.”
“Ah,” I said. “So it takes time.”
“Time, attention, and energy, but it’s worth it. The sex is great.”
“I really do not need more information about your sex life, thank you very much.”
She was laughing as I left her outside her wife’s workshop, jogging up the stairs to my apartments. Just to check on the prisoner. For security purposes.
Because there was nothing sexual happening here. I’d had seven centuries to understand my own desires, and they didn’t include half-naked humans who bounced when they talked and wiggled their asses when they were nervous.
I was sweaty and aching, my muscles pleasantly tired from the workout, but my mind was still racing.
My quarters were silent when I arrived, the sitting room empty, the door to Pip’s room still locked. I paused, listening for the sound of movement from the guest room. Nothing. I knocked softly on the door.
“Pip?”
There was a moment of silence, then: “Yeah.”
I unlocked the lock and pushed the door open. Pip was sitting on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. He was wearing the clothes I’d found for him last night—a simple linen tunic and trousers that were slightly too large and his hair was sticking up on one side, as if he’d slept on it wrong. He looked up when I entered, and I was struck again by the blue of his eyes—the sort of impossible blue you saw in deep forest pools in the middle of winter.
“I want to go home,” he said, staring out the window. “Is it possible I have a cell phone addiction? I can’t write, can’t text my friends, can’t just Google things. It’s very unsettling.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I’m doing what I can to find a way home for you. Ilyndra is working on it as we speak.” I sat on the edge of the bed, careful to leave space between us. “But it might take some time. In the meantime, you’re welcome to read the books on the shelf. Or write. There’s paper and ink in the desk by the window.”
He looked at me blankly. “I don’t... what?”
“I said—“
