Page 152 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

Attempting to lighten the mood, I pull a small smile to my face as he sits up, pulling the shirt over his head. When he lies back on his side, my breath catches in my throat. A new rune is etched into his arm, the dark ink shimmering like liquid obsidian.

My fingers trace the vertical knotwork and stacked teardrops, the swirls interweaving in a pattern that pulses with a faint, heatless light. It is the twin to the brand on my spine—a physical anchor for the power we shared in the storm.

“When I used your magic,” I start, tracing the inked swirls, “my back felt like it was burning.” I exhale, burying my face in his bare chest. “There’s so much to think and worry about, but I’m so tired.”

Ryker’s hand runs up and down my spine as he pulls me closer, tucking me into him. “Rest, Raea. There’s always tomorrow.”

I want to argue, but my lids shut and the world fades away.

I sigh awake, stretching and feeling the cool sheets beneath me. My magic hums delightedly beneath my skin, and my senses pick up the low chatter of the servants walking the halls. I roll over, ready to snuggle up to Ry, but find his side of the bed empty and cold.

I sit up, searching the room for him, but my senses tell me he’s not here. The Bond between us is closed off, telling me he’s out of reach. My hand presses against the sheets, my anger rushing to the surface, ready to scream at him for not waking me when I feel a paper crinkle beneath my palm.

I find his elegant script promising he’ll be back by late morning. Mumbling some words I’d like to have with him, I crawl out of bed and stumble into the bathing chamber. I’m quick to bathe and dress, ignoring the small tremble in my hands and chill that has yet to leave me before finding our friends seated in the dining hall.

I don’t need my magic to know they’re all anxious. I had forgotten today is their awakening. I feel like I should say something to them. Anything, but words fail me. As I look around the table, my heart swells with so much love for all of them, I want to cry.

I don’t deserve any of them. Aolyn shoots from her seat the moment she sees me, nearly knocking her chair to the floor as she rushes toward me, flinging her arms around me. The tears come then. Aolyn has been my friend since my first year in Primms. To have her shut down and shut me out these past few weeks has hurt, even if she ultimately chose to come.

My arms wrap around her. Aolyn is the same height as me—one of the few things that hasn't changed. I am still barely taller than an Elven child, a fact Brynna reminds me of at every turn.

But as I watch Brynna, I realize she is hardly a giant herself. She is full-blooded Fae, yet she is a spitfire in a small frame. She doesn't have much room to talk, though I suspect she uses her insults to distract from the fact that we look more like sisters than enemies.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Aolyn whispers.

I squeeze her tighter, assuring her I’ll be okay.

As she steps away, I’m immediately pulled into Ciara’s arms.

“What have I told you about sneaking away with hot men?” she groans, but there’s an undertone of fear there.

I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not a lesson of yours I remember.”

She pulls away, her big brown eyes searching me for any scratches or injuries. “Don’t follow them into the dark without backup.”

“Some lesson,” Kamden mutters.

Kellan pulls me in next, holding me tight enough that I feel like he’s squeezing the air out of me. In our hug, I feel his tension release.

When I finally step back, Kamden throws an arm over me for a side hug. I’m torn from his side by Tate.

Tate quickly hugs me, messing up my loose hair before shoving me into Trysten. “I’m glad you’re okay, Raea. Really.”

Trysten catches me, both of us glaring at Tate.

“Last hug.” Tate shrugs.

“Gods, he’s in rare form.” I sigh, already exhausted.

“He’s nervous about today,” Trysten replies, releasing me as I lean in for a side hug. “Are you alright?”

I vaguely recall him being in the hall next to Ryker last night. It was dark, but he’d been there. Ignoring his question, I say, “Thanks for coming last night.” He offers a small nod. “Do you know where Ryker went?”

Trysten sighs, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he looks away. “Maybe?” he says, refusing to look at me.

“Trysten,” I urge.

He groans, dropping into his chair. He runs his palms over his face before slapping them down on his thighs. “I’m not supposed to say. And I can’t tell you location-wise where he’s at because I honestly don’t know.”