On the edge of the hot springs, her shape materialized.
She wasn’t alone.
Ulla gestured wildly, her movements large and jerky.In front of her, Taro spoke, his fangs bared.Bastion couldn’t hear what he said over the waterfall, but every bone in his body turned to steel as he watched them argue.
Taro jerked back when he saw Bastion, as if he’d been expecting someone else.He scanned the rocky terrain, a sneer spreading across his face and into his posture.Ulla turned, and her pupils narrowed.She wore a top of intricately knotted cord.The shape had the feel of coral, and where it was bound together over her sternum, seaglass shone with condensation.Regret coursed through Bastion.She could have been wearing a sack, and he’d have thought her beautiful.
“A word?”Bastion asked.The waterfall swept his words away.He tried again, projecting.“A word?”
“We’re in the middle of something,” Taro said.
“And I am here at the king’s command,” Bastion stated.
Taro’s lip curled.“It’ll have to wait.”
Ulla glared at Taro and shook her head.She raised both hands and aggressively flipped her palms back and forth.Then she turned and stomped away.
Taro’s face fell.“Ulla!”he called.
He began to follow her, but Bastion stepped into his path.“She’s finished with you.”The Yvri reached for the daggers strapped to his chest, but Bastion seized his wrist.“I’m not newly tortured this time.Fuck off.”
Taro looked ready to spit in Bastion’s face.Mentally, Bastion dared him to follow through.After standing before the council and playing the game according to their rules, he wanted to feel the burn of battle and the rush of victory.
Instead, Taro jerked out of Bastion’s grip.“She’s cracked in the head, you know.She’ll rip your throat out the moment you turn your back.Marrying her almost isn’t worth the status.”
Bastion drew the first six inches of his sword, his muscles coiled with murderous intent.A hiss pressed through Taro’s teeth.He backed away and stalked off.
Not giving the bastard a second thought, Bastion went after Ulla.He caught her wrist, and she spun, her other hand raised to strike him.
Then, her expression softened.Bastion felt her hope and relief seeping through his palm, and he released her, ashamed.
“...I need my Account,” he said.Her brow pinched.“The book.The king–and your father–have demanded it.”
Disappointment dragged her expression down.It made Bastion sick.She searched his eyes, and when he didn’t speak again, she withdrew the book from a pocket under her arm.She opened it to their last conversation, where a shard of charcoal lay pressed between the pages.
And what of us?she wrote.
She could have carved them into his skin and it would have hurt less.His heart burned, ready to dissolve into ash.
“Ulla.”Bastion swallowed hard.“This is neither the time nor the place.”He cast a sour look over his shoulder.Taro hadn’t departed as he expected, but instead watched them with unmasked disdain.When Bastion turned back, Ulla shoved the book at him.
If it’s important, convenience shouldn’t be a factor!
She was right.This was important.
Lyanthis’s words came to him again, as if he stood over Bastion’s shoulder whispering in his ear.Set her free.
“You need more than I can give,” he said.“Protection, a pod–a community of people like you!”
Ulla shook her head and returned to writing.Bastion tried to stop her, but she pushed him away, a drawn expression on her face that shattered his resolve.Agony and anger pulsed through the bond as she clutched the book.Her hand oscillated across the page, her posture fracturing before his eyes.He’d never seen her so undone.
She thrust the book at him like a blade.
You’re stealing my voice–
Emotions slammed into him before Bastion could read the rest.They blazed across the bond, fueled by a lifetime of loneliness and amplified by betrayal.He could feel how raw her wounds were.She’d given him a glimpse of their depth the night they danced in the tavern, and now they pounded against his skull like a drum.
He tried to push it back towards her.To express that he only wanted to protect her, but she resisted.She pushed the book back into his hands.He didn’t want to look at the rest of what she’d written, but his eyes found the words of their own volition.
