by Everly Frost
Nathaniel takes an angry step toward his sister. “For ending our mother’s pain? Or for keeping me alive?” he asks, his voice dangerously quiet. “Which ‘hurt’ are you talking about?”
The blood drains from Christiana’s face. “For our mother… I would never wish harm on you.”
Nathaniel shakes his head, a slow, angry movement. He raises his voice to address the humans. “Aura Lucidia saved my life! She saved me when her people tried to burn me to death. She protected me from the wolves. She stepped between me and hunters’ arrows. She took the lash of Cyrian’s whip that would have killed me. She turned her back on her own people and came here. And why?” He roars at them, his anger a violent storm. “Because I asked her to.”
His teeth are gritted. “She did it for me. And this is how you repay her.”
He turns back to his sister, his voice barely controlled. “Aura has the power to defeat Cyrian. We need her.” He shakes his head, slow, full of rage. “But I won’t ask her to fight for us now.”
He points to Mathilda. “You will ease Aura’s pain so I can unbind her.”
Mathilda’s wild hair swishes around her face, her luminescent eyes wide. “I told you, Nathaniel. I can’t. I’ve already drained the environment—”
“Then take the energy you need from my heart,” he says.
Mathilda gasps, jolting back so fast that she nearly loses her balance. “Never!”
My head snaps up at the same time. “No!”
As our shouts echo, Hagan steps forward with a quiet statement. “Take from my heart.”
A hush falls over the humans.
Christiana stares at Hagan, her lips parted in surprise. She steps toward him as if she’s going to stop him, but before she can say anything, Hagan points to Geordie.
“That man said that when we arrived, Aura was holding on to me.” His arm slowly lowers as he meets my eyes. “I remember tipping off the bird, but something stopped me from falling. You tore your arm to keep me alive. Didn’t you?”
When I don’t respond, he strides toward me, only stopping when Nathaniel steps in his path.
“That’s close enough,” Nathaniel says.
The tension rises as the two men face each other.
“I’m the reason she’s hurt. Let me help her,” Hagan replies, appearing to choose his words carefully. “Take my life energy. Then I can die—”
“No,” I shout. “You will not!”
Hagan blinks at me. He’s a massive man who matches Nathaniel in strength, yet my shout seems to have stunned him. Nathaniel, too, turns to me, but unlike the others, he doesn’t appear surprised. A resigned expression settles onto his face.
“I didn’t save your life to watch you throw it away, Hagan Sever,” I snarl.
I turn my glare on Mathilda. “As for the witch, she will not come anywhere near me with her dark magic.”
Nathaniel turns to kneel in front of me again, a challenging glint entering his eyes as his big body casts me into shadow. “Then will you let me unbind you?”
My gaze flickers to Mathilda. Then Hagan.
Christiana folds her arms, as if she’s suddenly cold.
Icy anger rushes through me. “I’ll do it myself.”
I pull at my power, a harsh tug, tearing at what remains of my starlight now that it’s nearing the middle of the day. It’s a painful wrench, like clawing at the bottom of an empty well, as if I’m trying to steal a drop of water from dusty earth.
My power flashes. The briefest burst. I’m quickly exhausted. A sickly burning scent fills the air as the rope catches on fire. I lean forward over my knees as my hands separate behind my back. The chain clanks against the pole as the rope falls away, but I don’t move any farther.
The humans take quick steps away from me, flickers of fear on their faces, but Nathaniel and Hagan are quiet. I remain leaning forward, my right arm lying at an awkward angle across my back, my face raised to see them. Any further movement will invite more pain.
Nathaniel speaks quietly to Hagan. “Help me, please.”
Hagan gives him a nod and kneels on my other side before Nathaniel runs his hand down my injured right arm. “Easy now, Aura. We’ll keep your arm where it is.”
Hagan gently presses my limb, keeping it in its current position against my back so that Nathaniel can lift me without hurting me. Nathaniel presses my chest against his as he slowly rises and finally shifts his arms so that he can hold me without Hagan’s help.
“I can take it from here,” he says to Hagan.
Hagan gives a silent nod before he steps away.
Without another word, Nathaniel strides away from the humans. Across his shoulder, I can see Hagan remain where he is, his expression unreadable, while Christiana and Mathilda hurry after us.
“Wait, Nathaniel,” Christiana calls, unwrapping her arms from her chest to follow us. “Where are you going?”
“To my hut.”
“You can’t! The glitter bulbs will kill you.”
“Then you’d better not follow me,” he says.
“Nathaniel!” she screams, digging in her heels as if she can somehow plant him to the spot. “Stop!”
When Nathaniel continues walking, she spins to Mathilda, crying, “You have to stop him.”
Mathilda shakes her head, wide-eyed fear filling her expression. “There’s nothing I can do. I can’t access any more power inside Null. We brought this on ourselves.”
The other humans run up behind them, watching us go. They’re all shouting for Nathaniel to stop now. They won’t only be afraid for him. If he sets off the bulbs, the explosions will cut through the entire camp.
Nathaniel continues walking, his steady footsteps carrying me away from them. He presses his cheek to the top of my head while I listen to his deep inhalations.
“Nathaniel!” Christiana screams again. “You have to forgive me.”
“I don’t have to do a fucking thing for you,” he murmurs. “Not for any of you. Not anymore.”
He doesn’t turn back, even when Christiana buries her head in her hands, and Mathilda wraps her arm around Christiana’s shoulders.
I’ve never heard Nathaniel speak like that. He’s always held tightly to his convictions, his path. He’s always operated according to an unbending code of love and loyalty. I sense bitter anger in him now, the kind that could fester.
I want to reach for him, but I can’t move.
He continues to stride toward the glittering bulbs, their deadly glass surfaces winking. I can only just see them out of the corner of my eye and only if I crane my neck. I quickly return my head to his chest, afraid of upsetting his balance.
I protected him from the glitter field once, but I don’t know why the bulbs are here, how they got here, or whether the protection I experienced before will keep us safe now.
The barrier of dark magic that Mathilda placed around the hut shrieks as Nathaniel barrels through it. Directly in front of me, golden light glows across his chest, shining brightly through the rips in his shirt as he plows through the dark light as if it’s nothing more than mist.
Again, I want to reach out and touch him, but I have no control. My breaths bounce against his chest. My heart pounds so hard, I can hardly hear his footsteps.
Without hesitation, Nathaniel strides up the porch steps, the impact of his boots on the wood striking through me.
He trusted me to keep him safe from the glitter field when we fell from the sky, but he’s never taken a risk like this before. I sense his simmering anger as he approaches the top step and recklessly strides onward.
Closing my eyes as he steps into the sea of bulbs, I brace for the explosion.
Chapter 7
Quiet whispers rise up around us like far-off voices calling our names.
I open my eyes as Nathaniel stops in the middle of the porch.
Light dances across his chest and face, reflected off the glassy surfaces of the glitter bulbs as they lift up and float in the air around us like gentle
bubbles.
To my surprise, Nathaniel is watching me instead of our surroundings. His expression has softened, the hard edges of his gritted jaw easing, his shoulders relaxing. “How many times will you save my life, Aura Lucidia?” he asks.
“As many as it takes,” I say, exhaling my fear.
Releasing me from his gaze, he raises his head, his focus shifting to the glitter bulbs. One of them drifts up to my eye level. Colors swirl inside it, shapes taking form only to quickly vanish, leaving misty shadows behind.
“I didn’t bring them here,” I say.
“I know you had nothing to do with this,” he says. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, I need to get you inside.”
Carefully and quietly, Nathaniel picks a path through the bulbs until he reaches his door and nudges it open with his boot. Some of the glitter bulbs spill inside the hut as he turns to enter sideways and carry me through the opening.
The silence behind us is thick. I can’t see very far back now, but the humans are no longer shouting. They are quiet instead. Shocked, I guess, that nothing happened. No doubt relieved, too.
As Nathaniel nudges the door closed, a final bulb floats inside before the lock clicks and we’re alone again. Yesterday, he told me that Mathilda placed a spell on this hut at his request so that nobody could enter without his permission. Hopefully, the additional spell she placed around the hut this morning will keep the humans away from the porch. Even if Nathaniel walked unharmed through the bulbs, that doesn’t mean anyone else can.
He carries me to one of the kitchen chairs, awkwardly dragging it out from the table with his boot before easing me onto it. He positions me so I’m sitting with my left arm to the chair’s backrest. His mother’s pelt is slung over the chair where I left it, a soft surface against which I can lean.
I sigh as I drop my head to the top of the backrest, feeling safe for the first time since we left this hut yesterday.
Nathaniel quickly pours a glass of water and raises it to my lips. I take it from him one-handed, managing to drink all of it before he passes me some dried fruit, followed by some day-old bread. He tells me to chew slowly. He keeps refilling my glass until I’ve drunk as much as I need, and he also eats and drinks, promising as he swallows, “I’ll make sure we get some proper food soon.”
Finally, he kneels in front of me again, stroking the strands of my white hair from my face. My hair is coated in a film of sweat and dirt, the scent of death thick in my senses.
His hand pauses on my cheek. “I have to fix your arm now.”
I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment. “I know.”
“It won’t hurt. I promise.”
I give a short laugh. “You said you’d never lie to me.”
“Do you think I’d start now?” He arcs his eyebrows at me in a challenging expression, Shifting forward, he eases his palm around to the back of my neck. His thumb strokes the aching spot at the base of my neck, easing the sore muscle there.
Despite how much his touch soothes my pain, I’m wary, narrowing my eyes at him.
A small smile lifts his lips. The challenging light grows in his eyes. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” I say, still guarded.
His thumb lowers, but only by an inch, slowly working down the side of my neck. “What about this?”
“You know it doesn’t hurt,” I grumble, my accusation only half-hearted.
The corner of Nathaniel’s mouth twitches up. He slowly leans in and brushes a kiss across my lips, a tingling contact, before he rises from his seat.
My eyes fly open as he circles around behind me. I’m not sure what he intends to do and every part of me is suddenly on edge.
“Trust me,” he whispers, dropping a kiss on the top of my head before he reaches for the clasps down the left side of my armor. He’s watched me either peel the armor off myself or do it up multiple times, so he knows how it works.
I relax when he doesn’t touch my joint. Instead, he carefully opens the armor across my back, but only to expose my skin. Easing my hair aside, he gently kneads the muscles down the left-hand side of my spine, easing down to my lower back and over to my right side, working his way slowly upward but remaining close to my spine. Now that he’s positioned behind me, I can’t tell if I’m glowing at his touch.
His hands soothe the screaming muscles all of the way from the small of my back to the base of my neck. He doesn’t deviate from that path, simply working his way back down. Then up again all of the way to the base of my neck.
I shiver when he drops a kiss on my bare skin beneath my left shoulder blade.
I hear the smile in his voice. “You couldn’t scrub this one off.”
His family name is painted across my left shoulder as well as across my heart.
I stiffen a little. “Hagan said I dishonored you.”
The smile doesn’t fade from his voice. “That’s a human law. You’re not human, remember?”
He’s trying to ease my worry the same way he’s easing my muscles, but it won’t work. “He said it was up to you whether or not we’re still married,” I say.
Nathaniel trails kisses down my spine, seeming unfazed by the question in my voice. “Aura… beautiful woman… the choice will always be yours.”
“Then we’re still married.” I relax again, leaning against the chair while his hands pass across my ribs, slowly easing across all of the muscles of my back, one hand finally kneading the spot beneath my right shoulder blade while his other hand slowly clasps my right hand where it rests against my side. His thumb presses into my palm, easing across each of my fingers and moving on to my wrist.
Inch by careful inch, he works his way up my arm, along my forearm and then my bicep, firm enough that I can feel his touch beneath the sleeve of my armor. He works his other hand along the ridge at the top of my shoulder until his hands meet in the middle across my shoulder.
He promised me it wouldn’t hurt.
It doesn’t.
My right arm gently lowers away from my back, slowly shifting to my side into a more natural position.
“Easy, Aura,” he whispers, planting kisses up the side of my exposed neck. “Not too fast or your muscles will tense up.”
He shifts again—without taking his hands from my back—so that he’s kneeling at my right side. Gradually bending my arm at the elbow, he guides my arm forward the slightest distance while he continues to knead at the muscles across my shoulder, until I can rest my hand on the top of my right thigh.
“Nearly there,” he whispers, shifting around to my front again.
Tears suddenly burn at the backs of my eyes, slipping down my cheeks before I can stop them. “I thought you were gone.”
“Never.” He smiles, leaning forward to continue massaging my shoulder as he takes my right hand and softly draws it forward and up. At the same time, he leans across to brush another kiss across my lips. It’s so much like the move he made against me when we first fought that it takes me back to our first encounter in the Misty Gallows. I drove my dagger toward his stomach. He pulled my dagger arm forward but past his torso so that I ended up plastered against him. That was the first time I inhaled his body heat, his caramel scent.
I swallow a sob, unable to hide my vulnerability. “I thought you were really gone.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He presses his cheek against mine, smudging the tears trickling down the side of my face. Then he turns so his lips nudge mine, a gentle reminder that he’s right here, warm, alive, and determined to help me.
I’m covered in dust and blood. His clothing is still tattered and filthy, but his skin is clean. Even so, his kiss deepens as he continues to draw my arm up, placing my hand on his lowered shoulder. His fingertips press along the sleeve of my armor until both of his hands rest across my injured shoulder.
I sense my shoulder shift and the tension in my arm finally eases. A quick glance tells me that the joint is no longer pressing unnaturally to the front, even if I can’t see the sw
elling and bruising beneath my armor.
“There,” Nathaniel whispers against my lips, the same way he spoke when he first wrote his name on my face.
He lowers my arm to my lap and then his fingertips rise from my body for the first time since he started massaging my back.
Gripping the base of his shirt, he peels the torn material off his body. The deadly wound in his torso is healed, but I gasp at its appearance.
A small, crescent-shaped scar now sits above his heart.
It’s exactly the same as mine.
He gives me a wry smile. “We have the same scar.”
I’m shocked as I study it. “Always a mirror. Why does this happen?”
I’ve asked this question before. Along with why I glow when he touches me. The connections between us are far too strong to be caused by a Law I invoked only two days ago.
“We could chase answers. Or we could focus on the present,” he says with a gentle smile that tells me what he’s already told me: He doesn’t know.
Returning his attention to his torn shirt, he considers its structure before he rips sections of it to extend its length. Then he carefully wraps the makeshift bandage around my forearm and neck, creating a sling.
“That will do until I can make you a better one,” he says. “How does it feel?”
I allow the weight of my arm to settle into the base of the sling. “It’s fine.”
“Good. Go carefully from now on. No sudden movements.”
I reach for him with my left arm before he can rise—an awkward movement on my part. “Nathaniel… When do we have to fight?”
He sinks back onto the chair opposite me, his expression suddenly drawn. “The Vanem Dragon will come for us when he chooses. He will take us to the border to fight there. Like last night, it will probably be around midnight.”
“Then we only have twelve hours left. Possibly less.”
My statement falls into a chasm between us. I press my lips together, trying to stop the tears. I’m tired of pushing away my paralyzing fear and grief about the path I have to walk. “I can’t… This is not… How can we…?”