Page 15 of Where We Belong

I tilt my head. “But you do not know where to look. That is why you are still looking. And you have been looking for quite some time.”

“Ah-ha!” She places a small box of fine white powder onto the floor. The arrowhead seems to squeal when she sprinkles it over the tip and buffs the metal. I’m careful to avoid the shards scattered underfoot as I tread closer to study what she is doing.

“Pretty.” She smiles, inspecting her work, and I hum in agreement; my eyes fixed on her. I lean against the edge of the counter, palms braced carefully to avoid the smudged surface.

“You’re always so tense. Loosen up.” She pokes my side with a dainty finger. I lift the hem to see if she has left a mark on my shirt and then exhale a sigh of relief.

“I’m not tense.” The flicker of defensiveness in my voice makes me wince. It is unbecoming. She studies me whilst I smooth down the hair at my nape and attempt to find the right words.

“The palace is suffocating. More dead or missing. Rebels, rebels, rebels. Princess, Captain. Chasm, freedom. Vale keeps disappearing when I need him. Theron has gotten into my head, and the air feels just about ready to snap. People may die, whether we find the Princess or not.”

Eira’s brows pinch together. She needn’t be this worried about me, but I do enjoy her fussing. “The Princess?”

I nod.

“You mean your sister?”

I shrug away the stab of pain in my chest before she rests an ash-streaked hand on my white cuff.

“I know you. I know you’re worried about all of that, but more so her. Being here. You blame her for your dad, but she was just a kid. We’ve all done things as children that we regret.” My jaw flexes when she glances sheepishly at the floor. “You’ll handle it, Aid, you always do, and I’m here.”

I stare into her brown eyes. They remind me of rich earth after a rainfall. Her smooth, chestnut skin glows under the flicker of the furnace. She is the first thrum of my heart each day, and I fear she will be the last. I drag my eyes away from her before I get completely lost.

“Eira, my shirt.”

“Oops!” She releases me and I cannot stop the horror from spreading across my face, when she frantically tries to rub the dark marks out, only to smear them further up my arm.

The bell rings again, and a young apprentice pokes his head in. “Sir, Mistress Eira, the shipment of Mushussi scales just arrived.”

Eira brightens. “Perfect timing. Bring them in, Jace.” He bows and scurries out.

“Want to help me sort them? Or are you too princely for actual work?”

I roll my eyes, though I cannot stop the grin tugging at my lips. It feels strange to smile, to be happy. Wanted. “I am already filthy now, thanks to you. But fine. Just know, if anything explodes, I shall leave.”

Her laughter winds through the room like a thread, holding the halves of my heart together.

Chapter 18

Kaed

and all that I am starts to take shape,

as I worship in deed and in thought.

I roar. I fight. I fail.

How many times will they make me break her? How many times will I succumb to this dark magic?

Her screams have echoed through every inch of this place. Every inch of my mind. She is fragile. So soft. Even if her blood claims otherwise. The bond hisses at me through the magic. Jeering at my weakness. My inability to grasp it. It’s so close my skin writhes, but it’s as if it is sealed behind a wall of glass. I press against it with everything I have, clawing at the edges, begging it to crack, to let me through. I reach for her magic, try to stir it awake again. I try to grab her, to kiss her. But my body stays rigid. I will not stop fighting, I will not fail her. Or my King.

I have been forced to conduct twenty-three of their useless experiments in the last fifty-five days. Each one worse than the last and each one a failure. But I could have told them as much. She has stopped fighting; I do not need a bond to tell me that. I wish I could tell her to keep pushing, but I will have to push for us both. The final light went out in her eyes when Vale pulled out a parchment claiming the skin must be without any dark blemishes. She had a small, clumsy butterfly tattoo on her wrist. I was ordered to tear it from her flesh with my fingernails. Along with the freckles plastered across her face and scattered over her shoulders.

Sometimes I meet her stare. Past the haze of Vale’s elixir. That’s when my hand hesitates before drawing her blood or cutting scraps of her flesh and hair to feed into vials. When I can, I send out cold healing smoke to soothe her wounds and fight infection as she sleeps. If there is one thing I still have, buried deep beneath the layers of pain and dark magic, it’s hope. Hope she gave me.

They fear her. It’s clear in the way they tread so carefully around her, avoiding contact as if her touch might burn them alive. Good. I know the danger too. But she doesn’t scare me. I yearn for her to come into her power, to release herself upon this godsforsaken place and everyone inside it. Today is Vale’s turn.

“Captain.”