Page 32 of Twisted Bonds

Sunder

As the sun slowly creeps above the horizon, we search for a hidden spot to hunker down for the next twelve hours, careful not to be seen by any passing wanderers. The trees provide ample shade and cover, their leaves rustling gently in the morning breeze. As we settle into our new hiding spot, the chirping of birds and the rustle of animals in the underbrush fill the air. It is like stepping into a secret haven, away from the chaos of the world outside.

This marks the fourth day since the Second stole Mira from us.

I shudder to think what he can do in four days and how much longer it will take us to recover her.

“What do you think Mira’s doing?” the Third whispers sadly as he settles onto his back on a thick pile of fallen leaves. There’s no fire, despite the chill in the air. I don’t want to risk being seen. Those wanted posters derailed our search and rescue plans.

The softness in his voice pulls at something inside me, but I push it down again.

“I think wherever she is, she is missing us deeply,” I say, settling beside him. The heat of his body next to me. His scent fills my nose.

I roll onto my side, giving my back to him. Our nights we spend traveling as far as we can in any direction, searching helplessly for a scent or sign. Anything that would lead us to Mira. During the day, we rest or spar. Our skills will need to be sharp when we find the Second.

The Third’s imperceptible sigh as I turn away from him is like a gut punch. It’s not that I want to hurt him or ignore him. Anytime I channel my Chroma, I feel things from him I’m not sure I can give him.

Despite that, I am grateful to have him with me. He is a comfort to me when I need it most, even if he doesn’t realize it. Someday I hope to return it, to lend him my strength and comfort in his time of need.

But… I do not believe I could admit that to him. Not yet. Not until I’m sure I understand what I truly want from him. It wouldn’t be fair to him otherwise.

He rolls towards me so the warmth of his breath washes over me. I close my eyes against it as it brushes the sensitive skin of my neck. “I’m just so worried about her.”

I respond with a half grunt that means Yes, I am as well.

The Second is a slithering worm of a fae. I know that he’s the aspect of Dan’thiel’s personality who was the worst of all of us. The Third tucks closer to me. His firm body is lithe next to me, and I remember his words from the other day.

You need to fuck or fight right now, so pick one and let’s get started.

Does that mean he will do either, or was it simply a taunt to get me to hit him?

I won’t deny it; He is not only talented but pleasing to give myself to. He responds so well to my direction, and I know Mira enjoys our dynamic as well.

But it feels… wrong, somehow, to do that without her present. She is my purpose, the one I’m bonded to. However, I am thankful for him.

“She will survive. She is ferocious, our mate. I have no doubt that even the Second, worm that he is, will find her to be a formidable opponent.”

I say all of this to reassure him, but I find myself reassured by it as well. Mira is clever and resilient. I know that she will find a way from the Second’s clutches, if she can.

I also know that he cannot bond with her without consent. Our clumsy attempts at bonding revealed that, despite the activities of both participants, there must be more than just a physical connection to bond. There must be true emotions behind it. It turns out the physical aspect is optional, based on how the bond snapped into place for her and the Third.

I find some comfort in this. There is no way that the Second will form that relationship with her. Mira is too smart to be sucked into his games, if that is even his purpose.

“And when we find him, I will rip him apart with my bare hands. Sleep now. I’ll take first watch, Third.”

He says nothing in response, but as his breathing slows, I take comfort in knowing he’s safely beside me.

Late in the afternoon sun, I wake from my deep slumber bleary eyed and confused as the Third turns to me. “I have an idea.”

I blink.

Bobble, though he is remarkable and has a remarkable capacity to love and be loved, is not well known by any means for his ideas. So, I am cautious when I speak. “Oh,” I say slowly and non-comically.

He narrows his eyes. “You don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I haven’t heard it,” I say honestly. “I couldn’t tell you if it is a good idea or bad until you speak it.”

He gives me a very catlike flat stare. “It’s a good idea.”