Page 93 of Reckless Bonds
Feet, instead of paws, point up towards the ceiling. No warm fur protects my body’s heat from leeching onto the floor. I try to lift my hands, but they are still tightly bound next to me. Yurghen hovers over me, clapping his hands together with satisfaction.
“That’ll do it. Can you speak now, boy?”
I open my dry mouth, but no words emerge. The spell is broken, and yet I can’t understand why. I shake my head, but my body won’t obey me either. My tongue feels thick, my thoughts slow. I can barely think past the throbbing ache in my skull.
The old man’s gaze lingers upon me, a smile tugging at his lips. I try to move, to reach out to him, but I can only manage a hoarse cough instead.
“Ok, ok. Don’t hurt yourself. This will do nicely, though. Let’s get you cleaned up. Rehabilitated. Then we’ll see how easy it is for this bond to snap into place between you and the girl.”
In moments, a swarm of servants comes to bathe and dress me, as if I’m about to attend some magnificent ball. When they’re done grooming me, they dress me in a long flowing tunic made of white linen that hits my mid-thigh, similar to the one I wear in my Dreamshares with Mira. I look like a Halloween costume titled “Roman man”, neither historically accurate nor all that frightening.
It’s a stupid outfit.
But I guess it works.
“Excellent, let’s go,” Yurghen says after he looks me over. I take a sip from an offered water cup, happy for the bonds to be released, desperate for my mouth to work again. I lick my lips and swallow, looking the wizard straight in the eye.
“No pants?”
“Where we’re going, you don’t need pants,” he cackles.
Then I’m bound again, floating up the long spiral staircase to the tallest room in the observatory tower he showed us on our first day here.
Inside, my breath catches in my throat as I run to Mira. She’s chained to a wall, dirt smeared across her beautiful face. Her clothes are ripped, revealing large welts on her arms and legs.
I am slow to anger. I always have been since our breaking. I’m much happier to sit in a warm spot of sunshine or gently bat an assortment of items onto the ground. I’ll chase a mouse, if I’m so called. I’m just generally not the ball of rage and ‘roids that Sunder has made himself into, and for the most part, I’m good with that.
But seeing Mira bound and hurt wakes something in me.
They say that house cats aren’t that far removed, genetically, from lions.
As I look her over, I realize how true that is.
“You bastard.” I roar over my shoulder as I reach out to touch her for the first time with these fae hands.
Instantly, I feel the rush of warmth flowing between us as I hook a finger beneath her chin and lift her face. Her eyes open and widen when she sees me. A smile flashes across her face as I feel the well of Chroma inside me.
It’s yellow.
I reach for it, clumsy and unpracticed, barely able to push a small thimble of healing into her body. I think of sunshine and warm blankets, of the times we’ve spent together, sharing space, warmth, and comfort.
More yellow Chroma oozes from my hands and absorbs into her skin. Some of the exhaustion leaves her face as her smile spreads wider in realization.
She gasps, eyes wide asluckflows between us. My heart races.
When did Mira figure that out?
Biting my lip, I glance over and notice that neither the magi nor his strangely-aged henchman are paying attention.
Good.
I push more into her, and her skin looks brighter.We’re going to get out ofthis, I assure her.
She nods, and even though I haven’t spoken out loud, I think she understands.
I hear muttering as Yurghen opens a book, paying us no attention as he scribbles in a journal.
“Untie the girl so they can mate.”