I didn’t bother to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Hardly. Do you want me to be?”
“Hardly.” His smirk stretched further. It was dangerous, that look. It ignited an ache deep in my chest. He held my gaze as if he could somehow sense my turmoil, and then I felt it. That same rush of emotions from earlier collided into me. My whole body tensed as an unfamiliar flood of indignation, fear, concern—none of which belonged to me—threatened to drown out my sanity.
A prickling heat scraped along the backs of my eyes, and my throat swelled. I let out a gasp and snapped my attention toward Rorik. Fear flashed through his eyes, and his smile slipped away, along with the barrage of feelings that had been desperately trying to crawl their way into my heart.
Again, a sharp, bitter coldness settled over me, and the onslaught of feelings dissipated.
I swallowed twice before finding my words. “What was that?”
“The bond.” His words were sharp. Clipped. A tendon flexed along his jaw. “We’re not used to being near each other with our connection intact. Which is why I told you that you wouldn’t know I was here unless you came looking.”
But that wasn’t true, was it? I held his stare. I didn’t know how to forget about him, even though I desperately wanted to.
“You won’t notice it anymore. I just wasn’t prepared for today.” His grip on his armchair tightened, but his expression slipped to one of careful neutrality. It was entirely fake. That one simple choice—to shut me out and obscure the truth—made my hands curl into fists. My vision tunneled to him as a pounding started in my ears.
“Did you glamour our bond?” I asked.
“It’s our bond now? Notthebond ormybond? The one you couldn’t even speak about out loud in front of the family?” His laugh was dark and hollow, humorless. The hairs on my arms rose in response.
Glowering, I stood up. “I saw something downthebond, and it wasn’t your magic or mine. It was blight.”
“What are you going to do about it?” He was out of his chair, and his glamour dissipated with the snap of his fingers. And for a moment, I could barely think. Sable horns pushed through the base of his hairline, and his eyes turned into endless liquid pools of ink black that obscured all color from corner to corner. His wings, enormous with a hardened black exterior and golden inner layer, fell from his shoulders down to his ankles. They snapped once as he flexed his hands. His predatory grin was all pointed teeth and confidence, and he leaned closer, bringing his face inches away from mine.
“What do you see?” he murmured darkly. His words were a sultry caress full of threat, and a delicious shiver raced over my skin. “Go ahead. Explore like you did withhim.”
“I see time hasn’t made you less of an asshole.” My voice trembled as pure, unfettered rage snapped inside of me. Yes, I’d once stood in this very study and marveled at Orin’s bestial features after he removed his glamour. My fingers had traveled the length of his arms, the curve of his neck, the shape of his bone crown. I’d never seen anything like him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to relive that moment, or any moment with Orin, ever again.
I cranked my hand back and sent it flying, praying I had moved fast enough to smack Rorik’s face with enough force to rearrange his horrendous smirk, but of course he was faster. He snared my wrist midair, just before I made contact. His nostrils flared and a golden sheen passed over those endless inky eyes.
“Still too fucking slow.” His voice was all gravel and heat, and I refused to acknowledge what it did to my stomach.
“So help me be faster. Help me be stronger. Help me understand this.” I closed my eyes and centered myself with a deep breath. The bond between us unfurled in my mind: a striking golden tether that moved endlessly like fluxes in a stream, and yet was somehow taut between us. I could feel the ghost of his presence at the other end.
I felt it before I saw it. A bone-deep chill crept through the void of my consciousness, followed by a sour taste on the back of my tongue. Dread settled in my limbs and my stomach knotted. It was small, just a pinprick of oozing, slimy darkness lazily clinging to the center of our bond. It opened its maw to reveal rows of teeth, and it gnawed away at our connection.
My eyes flew open. “Where is it?”
Rorik said nothing.
“Rorik.” I ripped my hand out of his grasp and gripped either side of his collar and yanked downward. Buttons scattered across the floor as his shirt fell open, revealing the chiseled cut of his chest and sharp contour of his abdomen. His entire body stiffened, but I felt the harried cadence of his heart drumming beneath my fingers. I scoured everything. Every groove, every divot and peak. And then I found it. The blight. It was no bigger than Seville’s coin-sized pocket of sickness, but it was there. Right above the waistband of his pants and beneath the sharp curve of his hip bone. The edges of the wound were a withered, curling brown. The center was an oozing black mass streaked with puss and yellow loam, and the roiling smell of decay brought bile to the back of my throat.
My power came surging to the surface and pressed against my skin as it begged to be released.Heal.I was supposed to heal. An ache started in my fingers, and I itched to examine his life threads and see the damage I knew would be there.
“Rorik,” I finally managed. I couldn’t help myself. I let my power unfurl in a bubble of soft moonlight. It started from my fingertips and bloomed from my hands, and while I couldn’t see it, I knew my dove-gray eyes had turned glossy and bright with an ethereal light. I looked up at Rorik and watched as his life threads unraveled from his aura in a beautiful, mesmerizing dance. Their aquamarine color was near blinding, and they moved with such vigor and life that a measure of relief eased the fear and anxiety riddling my thoughts. He still had time. More than he did before, anyway. All but one of his threads were healthy and vibrant. The infected one was covered in a thick, tarlike substance. It moved sluggishly about his frame, and I knew that it, eventually, would spread.
“Don’t you dare,” he said as he clasped my hands tight. His words were barely more than a growl, a warning, and I called my power back to me. It rioted beneath the surface, churning angrily in my veins as I denied myself the chance to mend, but I wouldn’t—couldn’t—without harming myself.
“I won’t, but what are you going to do?” I asked.
“Do?” He raised an incredulous brow as he let his glamour fall back into place. “I’m going to do absolutely nothing. Just like you are.”
“And just let yourself and your sister die?”
“Edira.” He sighed before dropping my hands and taking a step back. As he palmed his neck, he leveled me with a suffering look. “I don’t need more time, and neither does Seville. We’ve been alive long enough.”
“What about your magic, though? What if there’s a way to bolster my powers again like before, and—”
“You can’t be fucking serious.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You just said that you wouldn’t mend.”
