by Ivy Asher
I give it the side-eye. There he goes with that whole watching thing again. I scan his chiseled frame and take a moment to study his handsome face and stunning eyes. Nope. Still not okay with the whole watching me thing.
Before I can say anything about how not cool stalking is, Wekun looks to the side. “Now, now, Syta, is that any way to thank the person who just saved your life?” Wekun asks, and I follow his stare to find Zeph crawling to his feet with murder in his golden gaze.
“For all I know, you’re the one who tried to kill us in the first place, Ouphe scum, and you’re just blaming Lazza so we fall into your trap. You seem to have a habit of showing up when tainted magic is in the air and claiming that you’re there to help,” Zeph growls and then spits on the ground, punctuating exactly how he feels about our visitor. Surprisingly though, Zeph doesn’t make another move against Wekun, even though I can see in his eyes that he wants to.
“Habit of showing up?” I ask, confused, my eyes bouncing from Zeph’s indignant glare back to Wekun.
“Zeph,” Wekun chides like he’s scolding a naughty toddler. For some reason, it makes me like him already.
“You know each other?” I ask, trying and failing at figuring out what the hell is going on.
“I don’t know about know each other, but we’ve met him before,” Ryn explains, getting to his feet. He looks just as pissed as Zeph, and I’m trying to understand why.
Maybe the lack of oxygen fried the last of my working brain cells. “Can someone just fucking tell me what the hell is going on?” I croak, reaching my limit for near-death experiences and cryptic half-stories.
“He showed up back at the cave. Lazza tried to go after Treno and us through his Vow mark. This Ouphe walked in out of nowhere and stopped it,” Ryn explains.
Me, standing outside of my body as pain washed through me, surfaces in my mind. I remember Ryn and Zeph scrambling, and then I saw a flare of light—not unlike the one that occurred right before Wekun showed up just now. I recall the faint image of a figure appearing in the cave, awash in that bright light, and I make the connection to what Ryn is talking about.
“You helped us before? Why?” I ask, turning back to Wekun.
His eyes light up with affection, making the pale gold color sparkle in an incredibly enticing way. “Like I said, I’m here to help. I should have seen that, at some point, their family would have put another connecting rune somewhere, although I’m sure they never thought one brother would use it to try and kill the other,” he tells me, like that should make complete sense to me.
I stare at him for a moment. “Am I supposed to know what any of that means?” I finally ask when my brain doesn’t catch what he’s throwing at all. Nope, I fumble that shit like my name is butterfingers, because I am not receiving anything he’s sending my way.
“We told you last time that we didn’t need your help. We also told you what would happen if you ever showed up again,” Zeph growls and takes a threatening step toward Wekun.
He just chuckles like he’s not about to face down the big scary asshole Syta of the Hidden and then tsks when Ryn also moves to join Zeph against him.
“No appreciation ever from the mates,” Wekun sighs, exasperated.
I scramble to my feet and intercept the ungrateful mates Pigeon has stuck me with. “Are you guys kidding? This guy shows up and saves our asses not once, but twice, and your response isn’t to thank him, but to threaten him?” I demand.
“You can’t trust anything the Ouphe say; they always have ulterior motives and schemes going on,” Zeph defends.
I dismiss the sting I feel from that comment. I don’t know why I’m shocked to hear it. I’m part Ouphe, and Zeph has always been clear in how he feels about me because of it. I know his and Ryn’s prejudices run deep. Being irritated with their current reaction of judging Wekun based off of what he is instead of the fact that he’s helped us is probably a waste of my time, but I can’t help it.
“Are you both forgetting that we’re trying to get to the Ouphe so that we can ask them for help?” I remind them, as though somehow the predicament that we’re all in just slipped their minds.
“No, you are going to the Ouphe to ask for help. We are just making sure you aren’t used against us,” Zeph clips.
I stare at him blankly for a moment. Did he really just say that to me? I know I heard the words, but my heart and mind don’t seem to want to let them take root. During my time in Kestrel City, I saw peeks of Zeph that showed me parts of him that were so much more than the angry, vicious, knife-tongued male who’s staring down at me right now. I’ve tried to understand where his vitriol comes from. Empathized with him and hated the awful things he’d experienced that shaped him into who he is today.
But right now as he stares down at me with taunting, hate-filled, honey eyes, I can’t for the life of me remember why I’ve ever bothered to give him the benefit of the doubt. Hurt and anger unfurl in my chest and slowly claim everything that I am.
I look at Ryn as I try to breathe through the swell of emotion, but he says nothing to counter the words that just slipped out of Zeph’s mouth. I shake my head; of course he’d stand up for his Syta over me. He always just goes along with what he’s told, such a good little puppy.
I’m an idiot wasting my time with these fools.
“Falon,” Wekun speaks up, his face filled with pity and concern.
“Don’t you speak to her. You’re not going to taint her mind, we won’t allow it,” Zeph snaps at Wekun, and Ryn puts a hand up to keep Zeph from moving any closer, nodding silently at me and where I’m standing in proximity to Wekun.
I look over at Treno, too disgusted by Zeph and Ryn to stare at them for a second longer. He’s quiet and still, lying on the ground, but the color is back in his face, and I can see that he’s alive and breathing. His eyes are far away and filled with pain, and my throat grows tight as I take him in.
“Treno, are you okay?” I ask, moving closer to him, the drive to comfort him overtaking the logic that he probably doesn’t want me near him.
My voice seems to snap him out of whatever he’s thinking about, and his eyes fill with anger and fix on me. “Lazza just tried to kill me,” he snaps out, and even though he doesn’t say because of you with his words, his eyes flash exactly that for the briefest of moments.
I stop my advance and realize that Wekun is still by my side. More hurt pings through my battered body like I’m a pinball machine. He wants to blame me instead of blaming his brother for being a prick?
I study him on the ground and feel myself hardening inside. It’s as though their hate and mistrust were the water my insides needed to start churning everything I am into concrete. And now, with each glare and nasty word, the cement in my soul is slowly hardening until there’s nothing left but stone.
I can take responsibility for connecting Treno to Zeph and Ryn without their knowledge. I didn’t know either; however, that little fact doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. I’m just some Ouphe-tainted who clearly can’t be trusted. But I’m not going to just sit here and get blamed for the actions of a psycho, because it’s convenient to aim all the anger at me. I’m not going to let their hate infect me, or stand for the unspoken accusation that somehow I would do something to hurt the Gryphons instead of try to protect them.
I’ve hit my limit. I’m over these fuckers.
I check in with Pigeon, and she’s just as disgusted with their behavior. She wraps a warm wing around me and flips them a taloned bird.
“I’ve tried to take the high road,” I start, looking at Zeph, Ryn and Treno in turn. “I’ve tapped into my empathy. I’ve done my best to put myself in your shoes, to understand how hard this situation is for all of you. But have you assholes even tried to do that for me? Nope. Not for one fucking second.
“You all think it’s okay to just dump your anger and pain all over me. You think that for whatever reason, I have to just take the bullshit. That I’m stuck with you and that’s all there i
s to it. You want to think the worst of me, have fun. You want to blame me for your problems and pretend like your dicks didn’t help to put you in this situation, go for it. Rewrite history all you want. Do what you need to do to cradle your fragile egos and stroke your weak manhoods. But you can do it without me.”
I look over at Wekun, rage simmering in my gut. “You want to help me?” I ask, revisiting what he said earlier.
“I do.”
“Then get me as far away from these pricks as you can, please,” I tell him, hating the crack of emotion that ripples through my words. I blink back the tears I feel in my eyes and rip the cracks inside of me open so that all my fury can flood out and staunch the wounds these three have gouged into my soul.
Wekun gives me a sad smile.
“Gladly,” he agrees, and then he reaches for my palm.
In the time it takes to flap a wing, I’m no longer in the cold dark forest, surrounded by gryphons with anger issues. Now I find myself standing inside a massive tent, the kind I’ve seen in period movies or at Renaissance festivals.
“Holy shit. You actually did it,” I exclaim, looking over at Wekun, completely shocked.
Awed, I look around at the sparse dark wood furniture that’s been placed on top of overlapping, beautiful, jewel-toned carpets. The large rugs are laid out on the ground so the floor is completely covered and cushy. Inside the canvas walls of the tent is spacious. There’s a large bed and side table, a seating area that has massive cushions that look very inviting and relaxing, and on the opposite side from where I’m standing is a small washroom with a copper bathtub, a sink-like basin for washing hands, and...a large bucket.
It says a lot about how fed up I am with Pigeon’s mates, because I don’t even question how smart it was to just up and pop away to who knows where, with a person I don’t know, until right...now.
Like he can sense my instantaneous concern and discomfort, Wekun squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry, Falon, I portalled your mates to the Gryphon camp that’s just next to ours. They don’t know where they are, and they think I took you, but I feel like that might be just the reality check they need at the moment, don’t you?”
I pause, not sure what to say. There’s a part of me that feels bad. They were just magicked somewhere unknown and might be going through some issues with that. Then another part of me screams that I need to get over it. I can’t keep operating like Zeph, Ryn, and Treno have common courtesy, decency, or genuine concern when it comes to me. If not for the fact that their lives are tied to mine, they probably would have killed me or left me behind a long time ago. I promised I would help end this war, but I didn’t promise to let them shit on me and emotionally beat me down while I do.
“Where are we?” I finally manage as I drop-kick my empathy and try to adopt a more hardened mien. Zeph is right, this world isn’t easy on soft feet or soft hearts.
“Oh...right, sorry!” Wekun offers sheepishly, his smile apologetic and kind. “Falon, welcome to the Ouphe stronghold,” he announces, pulling back the front drape of the canvas walled structure we’re standing in and revealing a tent city as far as the eye can see.
Well, fuck me, we’re exactly where I was trying to get.
I step under Wekun’s arm, and thick cool air greets me. It’s quieter than I would have expected from a place that clearly houses so many people. Something about this place reminds me of images that I’ve seen of refugee camps in my old world. The tents are various sizes, but all made from an animal hide that’s the color of light sand and has a suede look to it—only way thicker than any material I’ve seen back home.
People move around the camp, going about their business, and they don’t even bother to look over at Wekun and me as we stand and stare and I take it all in. The ground is covered in a soft and rich looking soil that’s the color of espresso. It looks wet, but although the sky is overcast and gloomy, nothing else around me gives the impression that it’s rained in a while. The air is dry and brittle, and I get the distinct impression that the spirit of the people who live here just might be too.
There’s a palpable sadness in the air, a tension reverberating all around me, that I feel. Nadi said that the Ouphe have been waiting for a Bond Breaker to come and help them, and right now I can sense how true that is. I know that in the eyes of the Gryphons, the Ouphe are to blame for all of the wrongs done to them. I don’t know if that’s completely true or not, but I can see that the people who live in this tent-dotted stronghold are suffering.
This place feels broken.
9
I look to Wekun, concern bubbling up in my chest, but I’m not sure what to say. Questions alight in my eyes, and he just nods his head solemnly like he can read my mind, or maybe it’s my face that’s communicating what the fuck loud and clear. Either way, he obviously understands what I’m saying without speaking a word. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I need to see more of this place than one minute of observation, but if the people here are as downtrodden as it feels like they are, how the hell are they going to help us?
I’ve been picturing a place like Vedan in my mind. The way the Gryphons talk about the Ouphe like they’re still this hated ruling class, and the cliff castle they built that hid a city in its bosom, they’ve completely fucked with my expectations of what we would be walking into. This doesn’t feel like a proud, strong race of beings, they feel...terrified.
I look over and catch eyes peeking through a crack in the doorway fabric of a tent across from me. As soon as my eyes land on theirs, the fabric closes all the way and they scurry off, like they’re petrified that they were caught.
“Come, we have about five minutes, but we can talk as we go,” Wekun explains, walking out on the well-traveled pathway that winds between tents.
“Five minutes until what?” I ask as I fall into step next to this incredibly attractive stranger who—for some reason—I feel like I can trust implicitly.
He smiles, and I try not to drool or read into it. I crack a whip at my libido. It’s gotten me into enough trouble already. I’m not fucking anyone else, maybe ever again. Man, that’s going to suck.
“Five minutes until your mates start tearing this camp to the ground in search of you.”
I snort. “Blame the horny half bird inside of me for those three. They’re her mates, not my mates. I wouldn’t have picked that assortment of assholes if my life depended on it.”
Wekun gives me another hump-inducing smile. “It may very well depend on it. You need to lead them home,” he tells me cryptically. I push the automatic trust I feel for this guy aside and study him. He’s very tan, and I can’t tell if it’s from a lot of time out in the sun or if it’s genetics. His white hair is buzzed, which isn’t a hair style I’ve seen in this world, and his champagne-colored eyes look like they swirl with a whole fuck ton of secrets.
“Who are you again?” I ask, needing to know more and questioning why I haven’t asked before now.
Has this world fucked me up? I’ve been forced to go with the flow so much that it’s some kind of fucked up habit for me now. If this dude was driving a creepy white van and pulled up in front of me, smiling and telling me to hop in, would I do it now without question? I shake my head at my behavior and tell myself to get it together and trust no one.
I take a step to my right, creating more distance between myself and the mysterious Wekun. He smiles, like he thinks I’m adorable. Shit. Can this dude read my mind?
“I’m like you, Falon, a Bond magic user.”
I stop in my tracks and narrow my eyes at him. “Wait. I thought Nadi said there were no more Bond magic users left. That’s why it was so important for me to come here,” I ask, confused and immediately more suspicious.
Fuck. If Zeph was right about this being a trap, I’m never going to hear the end of it. That is, if we don’t die.
“There are other Bond possessors, you’ll be meeting your Sept not far down the road, but Nadi didn’t lie when she said you were the only one who could fix the V
ow.”
“But if you’re a Bond user too, then why can’t you do it?”
“Because I’m not the right kind of Bond user for the job,” Wekun tells me. He waves me forward, and I start to walk again.
“I’m confused, there are right and wrong kinds of magic users?”
“Not wrong users, per se, but Bond possessors can specialize in different aspects of the magic. We all have our strengths, so to speak. Take me for example, I’m a Bond Weaver, or at least that’s what the Ouphe—or Sentinels, as we call ourselves in the new world—like to call me. I can see connections that affect our race for good and bad. I have developed abilities that allow me to influence things for the good of our people. I can portal between our worlds, connect those who should be tied together with magic-laced runes, awaken dormant magic, and also block active magic in runes. That’s what I did for you and your mates, I shut down the two runes that Lazza was trying to use against you,” he explains.
“So I won’t be able to do any of that?” I ask, perplexed.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t presume to tell you what you can and can’t do once you wake up entirely,” he tells me, his eyes very serious. “All I can really say is that you alone are uniquely capable of breaking the Vow.”
“And why is that?” I ask as we turn left and continue to wind through more tents. Some people are watching us now, and I can see the exchange of curious and cautious whispers as we make our way through camp.
“Because your father was Awlon the Dark, and your maternal grandfather was Verse Solei, the last Bond Forger. They were two of the five Ouphe who created the Vow. The three other Vow Founder’s bloodlines have been destroyed. You’re all that’s left of the magic that created that Bond, which is why you’re the only one who can break it.”
A snarl fills my ears at the same time panicked cries register. I pull my thoughts from the bomb of information Wekun just lobbed at me, and focus on the three pissed off gryphon shifters who are standing in a circular clearing, surrounded by people who are scrambling to get away from them and a handful of beings who look like they’re in charge of this place.