He poured every bit of his will into breaking his Larnkin’s hold. When it fought, he narrowed his concentration down to a fine point, asserting his will over his obstinate Larnkin. While they remained frozen in silent battle, magic—with no will to guide it—flared uncontrolled along his skin, then his fiery magic dripped to the ground. Ashayna hollered curses and tried to jump out of the power’s reach, but there was no place for her to go. It encircled them both.
His magic wouldn’t harm her, but by the rising scent of her fear, Ashayna did not know she was safe. Her desperation gave him strength enough to break his Larnkin’s hold. With the magic once more his to command, he reached out and calmed the burning fire.
His Larnkin still seethed and churned within him, raging that he dared to deny it its bondmate. Sorntar drew in a deep breath and waited. The Larnkin’s emotional bombardment of anger, frustration, and resentment halted, leaving behind a hollow sensation in his mind. The Larnkin drew in upon itself, curling into a knot, taking all warmth of its magic with it. Even after it faded, Sorntar still didn’t relax. Moments crept by. Then he felt it building.
A wave of agony welled up out of his bones, buckling his knees and dragging a scream from his throat.
Chapter Five
Sensation slowly crept into Sorntar’s sleep-fogged mind.
Cold. A world without heat.
A nameless emptiness churned deep in his core, a ragged hole...a fundamental part of him was missing.
His mind snapped to full alertness. Alarm hummed in his veins. He tried to move, but both arms were lumps of dead weight. He couldn’t even shift them. The rest of his body was just as unwilling to heed his commands. Something unpleasant had occurred—a great trauma. But what?
Long moments passed. A shiver sliced through him. Bone-deep cold saturated his body. His head throbbed in time to the pounding of his hearts where they lurched unevenly in his chest. Fear clutched his gut into knots.
His elemental fire was gone. Its loss left a gaping void in his soul where his Larnkin should have been. Panic seized him. His Larnkin was gone. What could kill a Larnkin?
He couldn’t survive without it. The cold—was he already dead? Had he passed into the spirit world?
Before terror got a stronger foothold, a painful tingling started in his chest and worked its way out to his arms and down his legs. Feeling slowly returned in its wake.
Surely death didn’t hurt. Fragmented memories stirred, returning a bit at a time. The human lands…a rogue Gate…the duel….
His bondmate…a human bondmate.
Merciful gods.
He wasn’t dead.
The cold, the emptiness…his Larnkin had punished him for his interference. Anger sparked within Sorntar, washing away some of his confusion. What was he supposed to have done? Let the fool of a Larnkin take her then and there in front of all, and burn the camp to the ground during the fiery bonding ceremony?
He groaned and blinked up at the wooden rafters of an unfamiliar ceiling. Where was he? Woolen blankets covered him in a heavy mound. Their weight added to the sensations of entrapment.
Was he a prisoner? All too likely if he was within one of the humans’ timber buildings. Sorntar forced his lungs to slow, taking deep calming breaths as he ordered himself to think.
His Larnkin was no help. It had left him with so little power; if he was to escape, he’d have to do it without magic. Panic still lurked at the edges of his consciousness, but he fought it down. He needed to get free of the humans, find his people.
Feeling continued to return while he lay and formulated a plan. He had to get mobile, assess the state of his body. Even without his Larnkin, he was still formidable. Escape would be infinitely easier if he was flight worthy. But he couldn’t move his wings yet, not with them trapped under his unresponsive body.
A warm weight rolled up against him. He grunted in surprise, thoughts scattering when something snuggled closer. Moist breath puffed against his side. No, not something—someone. Very definitely someone. An arm curved across his chest and fingers feathered along his abdomen. Shifting enough to displace the coarse blankets, he peered down at the bed’s other occupant. She stretched out full length against him, her legs entangled with his. Everywhere they touched heat and power flowed into him, the delicious sensation driving away the last of his lethargy.
She banished the emptiness within him. His opponent, his bondmate—such a strange mix.
Long dormant instincts guided his arms around her shoulders and waist. He rolled to his side and mantled a wing over them. Lifting his head, he scanned the room.
If the smell of green wood was any indication, the rather primitive building had recently been constructed. Close-packed, narrow beds lined two walls. A meager light came from a few oil lamps sitting on tables at either end. Even though numerous beds lined the walls, it made sense his people would situate her so close. Best not to anger his already moody Larnkin.
A compelling pull dragged his gaze back to her.
“Ashayna.” He rolled the word on his tongue.
Mild surprise engulfed him. It was already as familiar as his own name. Her eyelashes fluttered once, but she didn’t awake. Her hair was a mess, mostly unbraided, in need of a good grooming. The pillow beneath her head had left marks upon her pale cheek, a smudge of dirt rested on her nose...still, she was pretty for a human. The memory of her dark eyes, an intense brown with a hint of honey at their iris, flashed across his thoughts. Of their own accord, his fingers found her hair and began grooming tangles out of the thick mass. Ashayna drew a deep breath, mumbling something in her sleep. His eyes dropped to her full lips. Would she welcome her bondmate even while she slept? His magic flared at the thought, escaping his control.
Swallowing hard, Sorntar cursed his own stupidity. What was he thinking? He’d be more likely to feel the kiss of her knife than her lips yielding to his. He knew finding one’s bondmate caused emotional havoc, but no one had bothered to tell him his brain would abandon all logic, or his body would do as it pleased. Before he could get his magic under control, it flared again. The soft snap of a spell breaking told him his magic had just obliterated one of his people’s weaving.
He glanced around, surprised. Somehow on his first quick survey of the room, he’d missed the spell that had held the glamour in place. As he watched, a mirrored image of his sleeping bondmate vanished from the bed opposite. Which was bad enough, but then his mind reacted too slowly, and the linked glamour suspended over his own vanished, revealing what was really going on.
He hadn’t yet gathered his thoughts when the soft scuff of boots against the wood floor disturbed the silence. Five human guards approached, their expressions promising trouble. Two in the lead had their hands resting on sword hilts. Sorntar blinked and three of his bodyguards were blocking his view of the humans. An angry exchange woke his human bondmate, but for the first time since the rising of the sun, he was a full heartbeat ahead of disaster and already in motion. By the time her eyes snapped opened and focused on him, he’d perched himself innocently on another bed.
Ashayna bolted upright and scrubbed at her eyes. “Where…what happened?” She focused on him and her cheeks colored an interesting shade of pink. Then a couple moments later the becoming blush gave way to anger. “The last thing I remember is you trying to burn me to death.”
“No, I wouldn’t hurt you. It was…I lost control…my Larnkin…”
Her expression softened a notch—not friendly, but less hostile, and in a whisper she said, “My Larnkin and I don’t get along either.”
He was saved from having to reply to her unusual comment by the arrival of Kandarra.
Marching up to both sets of guards, his sister bestowed a charming smile upon the human soldiers. He’d always envied his sister’s ability to disarm a person with a simple smile or witty comment, but there was more to this. The air filled with the sweet, spicy scent of magic, growing stronger as she neared.
Kandarra greeted Ashayna as she
passed and walked to his bedside, carrying a tray with two stone goblets. “I wonder what you were doing to make your magic flare. I felt it all the way outside.”
When he glowered at his sister, her smile grew into a grin.
Glancing behind Kandarra, he watched Ashayna straighten her clothing and pull on muddy boots while trying to look at him without staring. Kandarra leaned into his range of vision. She smiled and looked in the direction he’d been staring so intently. His human bondmate returned to tying her boots, giving the laces such a violent tug he marveled they didn’t break.
“See something you like, brother?”
“Kandarra…” He delivered his warning without taking his eyes off Ashayna.
“Would I ever do anything to cause you embarrassment?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, you know me too well.” Kandarra leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I thought it time for some of Vinarah’s brew. The sooner you recover, the sooner we can leave.” She handed him one of the tall, stone goblets and turned towards Ashayna.
Ashayna interrupted whatever Kandarra would have said. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days. Just long enough for tensions to ease a little and for Elder Cymael to draw up a peace treaty between our peoples,” Kandarra said, then added in a dry tone, “I supposed it helped that King Ryanth ordered his army to disperse back to their home territories.”
“I’ve missed all that? You let me sleep two entire days?”
Kandarra ignored Ashayna’s concerned statement. “We’ll leave by mid-day.” She studied their expressions. “You look terrible. Both of you need a good meal and more rest.”
“Where’s my father?” A scowl darkened Ashayna’s features.
“He’s well. Actually, he’s been here when the negotiations allowed.”
“He’s free then?”
“Of course. We’d not dishonor the tradition of the duel.” A mischievous expression spread across his sister’s face. “However, those guards are eyeing each other with a great deal of distrust again, so no more war games, you two. And brother, keep your hands to yourself.”
Ashayna made an unintelligible sound and drew a deep breath to speak, but Kandarra held up a hand for silence. After handing Ashayna a goblet of herb-infused drink, Kandarra left at a brisk walk, dodging the next volley of questions.
Ashayna transferred her glare from Kandarra’s retreating form back to him. Sorntar hastily sipped at his goblet with the hope she’d find something else of interest to glower at. She continued to eye her drink with suspicion long after she watched him sip his.
New energy flooded his weary body. The slow return of strength to his limbs a welcome sensation. Had the brew possessed such ability, there would be no need for healers. No, this new strength came from elsewhere. Summoning his mental shields, he watched his future bondmate over his goblet’s rim. It seemed nature had given her instinctual knowledge to share energy with another. By her guarded look, Sorntar doubted she did it knowingly. He decided not to enlighten her just yet.
“How do you feel?” Ashayna asked after she had emptied her goblet in a few quick swallows. She awaited his response with a stillness that spoke of great discipline. Behind her stout mental walls he sensed a great number of questions looming. He wasn’t sure he could hold his silence so long if their positions were reversed.
“Much better, thank you.” To prove the truth of his words, he stood and walked around, stretching and loosening stiff flight muscles and aching joints.
He caught her staring. When she realized he’d noticed, her cheeks took on a pinkish hue, which she hurriedly tried to hide by turning to straighten the camp bed. A smile tugged at his lips. He wouldn’t have labeled her as shy.
Curiosity reared up within him. He knew so little about humans. Maybe with her help he could learn at least enough to avoid a war with them.
“This is quite a mess, isn’t it?” Ashayna glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yet, your people seek peace?”
“Yes, and it’s good my mother has sent Elder Cymael. She’s a councilor, her specialty is fixing up other peoples’ mistakes.” Sorntar replied. “Honestly, we never wished to spill blood, but after the first failed attempt at negotiations with the acolytes of the Revealing Light, we couldn’t allow your kind to advance unchecked.”
“Too bad this Cymael wasn’t there the first time our peoples met. Perhaps she could have convinced the acolytes of the benefits of an alliance, and prevented all this.”
“It wouldn’t have helped. Once they learned of our magic…” Sorntar shrugged. “I doubt anyone could have convinced them of our innocence.”
“No, not likely,” she replied. “There are many myths about magic, but I never paid it much mind, thinking there was no truth to the rumors, until recently. It has been feared in the past, but not like it is now. For many years, long before I was born, acolytes have sought out rumors of magic. Then they encountered your kind and most senior acolytes took ship back to the empire.”
“We were just what they were seeking.” A vague note of concern echoed in his voice. The acolytes must have learned something of importance about his people if they were so quick to return to their own land with the news. But what had they learned? An enemy he didn’t understand concerned him.
“I doubt very much you have anything to fear,” Ashayna countered.
“Good, I don’t need more enemies when my bondmate’s idea of a greeting is to kidnap me from my city and then drag me through an unstable Gate.” Sorntar laughed, muscles along his shoulders and wings relaxing for the first time in several candlemarks. He didn’t know what it was, but something about his little human bondmate calmed him. The thought of spending a lifetime with her didn’t seem so terrible to him at the moment.
“What did you say?” Her empty goblet clattered to the ground, rolling across the wood planks of the floor before coming to rest at his feet.
“When your Larnkin dragged me through the gate, it was very dangerous,” he said, stalling, trying to figure out what was so shocking about what he’d said.
“That…I wasn’t…it was an accident.” She pinned him with an intense look. “The other thing you called me...bondmate? Explain what you meant by that. Now.”
“Bondmates.” Sorntar paused in confusion, how could she not know something so basic, so primal? “Surely Vinarah told you. Marsolwyn?”
Ashayna shook her head, eyes narrow and angry. “They told me I’m host to a Larnkin.”
“Ah,” Sorntar fought down a surge of panic, trying to think how to begin, “So Vinarah didn’t tell you? She must have known. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“I’m glad you think something makes sense, because you don’t.” Ashayna ground out her words, then fell silent. Her lips pursed as if she tasted something unpalatable.
“Vinarah bears the gift of Far Sight. I believe she saw a vision of us as bondmates. It explains why she and the others would come here.”
Ashayna looked at him with greater hostility.
“My sisters did tell you about Larnkins, did they not?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“One host can always recognize another.” He stopped to gauge her response. She nodded her head in an abrupt motion, and he continued. “In the spirit world, two Larnkins are joined by a powerful bond. When they take hosts in this realm, their spiritual bond is broken.”
Sorntar scrutinized Ashayna’s features, trying to read something of her thoughts. She was shielding herself very well. He didn’t like the disadvantage. Sucking in a breath, he rushed on. “They live to serve the Light, and guide us. Though I think they need us as much as we need them. They can’t linger in our world without a host to act as anchor, and the breaking of their spirit bond, while damaging, isn’t permanent. It takes them many years to recover after taking a host, but if they’re strong enough, a Larnkin will seek out its other half and forge the bond of spirit once again.”
“If this conversa
tion is heading where I think it is, don’t bother to finish.” Ashayna held up her hand. “You’re addled. I’m going to see my father. Don’t you dare bring this rubbish up in front of him.” She walked away, her hips swaying to the rhythm of her strides.
Sorntar shook his head. She could run, just not nearly far enough to escape their bond.
No matter how much she might wish it.
A few moments later—long enough to let her escape—he followed. Outside he found Elder Cymael awaiting him with word of the negotiations.
* * * *
After a candlemark spent with her father, Ashayna had her emotions under control enough to face Sorntar, she hoped. Alone with her thoughts, she made her way to the delegates’ pavilion. Around the perimeter another mixed group of her father’s and Crown Prince Sorntar’s guards eyed each other hostilely. Ashayna brushed past both sets of guards without pause, entered the tent, and faltered at the sight of Sorntar.
He stood surrounded by a small group of elementals. She had done all in her power to forget his words about Larnkin and bondmates. Dread returned now she was again in his presence. It had been bad enough when his sisters had told her she was a mage and her Larnkin had tried to convince her of that. Oh, but this new knowledge about bondmates was so much worse. To be tied to another to such an extent bordered on the realm of nightmare. What if there was more to bonding than just some spiritual Larnkin binding? Was she expected to share his bed? Was it even possible with a phoenix? Well, if his thoughts headed in that direction, she’d show him how good she was with a blade.
Sorntar’s sisters conversed with him, so did the lupwyn queen, and a phoenix with golden feathers Ashayna had learned was Elder Cymael.
Sorntar looked between her and her father. Ashayna’s feelings of anxiety tripled. If Sorntar mentioned anything about Larnkin or bondmates to her father, there would be no peaceful resolution. Worse, her magic might be laid out for all to see. That knowledge would prove deadly for her family should an acolyte learn of it.
Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) Page 6