A Cursed Hunt (The Wings & Witches Series Book 1), page 27
The glowing light of a torch returned. She couldn’t lift her head to see who it was. Exhaustion kept her still. Shadows passed over the walls of her cell. The bit of light was enough to reveal two stone walls and more bars between her prison and the next. It revealed a hunched form tossed into the cell next to her. Another click of a lock and then the light receded.
The constant wheeze of someone else’s breath was loud compared to what she’d grown used to. They’d walked themselves into the cell but it didn’t sound as though they’d moved since landing in their bed of straw.
“Meira?” A rough whispered voice.
She stiffened. “Remis?”
He let out a long slow breath that broke off into a fit of coughs and a groan. Him in a cell next to her didn’t bode well for her theory of his betrayal. He didn’t exactly sound as though he was at peak health either. So where had he been?
“Thought I might find you down here.” He exhaled, along with the shuffle of his movement. Meira imagined his face pressed against those bars. His beautiful features would be quite the contrast to their dingy surroundings. “How are you?”
Meira could laugh at the simple way he’d asked such a polite question but that would require energy she didn’t have. “I’m alive. For now. Where were you?”
“In another cell much better than this one. They had me locked up in a room for hours. Questioned me for a while…” The way he trailed off suggested they did more than question him. They’d hurt him. “They’ve decided that they’ve found me guilty of consorting with a witch. We’ve got until the morning.”
And exactly how many hours was that?
She pulled herself forward. Straw stuck to her palms as she crawled closer to the sound of his voice and found his hands clutching the iron bars. They were running out of options. “I can go back in time, bring us back to the house and we can run.” Or she could go even further than that, but she wouldn’t know why she’d done it then either, she might not have time for her memories to catch back up again. Then they’d somehow be right back in this position again. That’s not even to mention if she could lose herself to the witch’s sleep again.
“Would you remember if you went back?” Remis pulled her hand through the bars and pressed a kiss against her knuckles.
“No,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if the curse would be removed either. Did this travel with her through time and space?
“I hate that you don’t remember.” He pressed her palm against his cheek and leaned into her touch. “I hate that there is a time with you that I have not experienced.”
The cool kiss of metal supported her head as she leaned against the bars. Silence was easy between them. It held all the things she wished to say, the emotions she wanted to admit to. The quiet held her love for a man she barely knew but felt nonetheless.
“Could you go back to a time before the curse? Could you forget me?”
Meira sighed. “I’m not sure. I can’t travel more than perhaps a few months back and the energy it would consume would make me ill. Bram said I’d been in bed for nearly a month this time. And I don’t know if the curse would follow. Considering I woke up with it, it’s likely safe to assume that it would.”
Remis squeezed her hand. He’d let her go if it meant she would live. That’s what he was getting at. She’d let him go once and though she wasn’t quite certain what had been the deciding factor, she hated the idea of doing this all again.
There might be one other way to escape their impending fate. A chance that she’d remember everything they’d shared and refuse the end the Empire would want of her.
“Would you like to know how scale riders bond with their Bold Wings?” Meira asked. Remis let out a slow breath and she took that as her cue to continue. “We share blood. A rider will find a Bold Wing when they are still fresh from the mother’s nest, young enough that they can be overpowered and outsmarted. Not yet flying either. The rider then makes a cut along unarmored flesh. Between their claws, just below their ears, or more dangerously just underneath their snout. We prick our fingers; you only need a little blood anyway, and rub it against the wound we’ve inflicted. Mrithun left scars from our bonding.
Then all of us wrestle our Bold Wings to the top of Mountain Ridmond. And we jump. If our Bold Wings take to flight for the first time and catch us on our descent the bond is solidified.”
She could remember every torturously scary moment of her bonding with Mrithun. Not all riders made it, not all dragons bonded. Some dragons took flight and didn’t bother to save their potential rider. Others died alongside the rider. All of this happened at the young age of ten.
Mrithun hadn’t yet darkened into her onyx scales when she’d been that young. The diamond-shaped scales had appeared almost violet under the midday sun. Meira had also found it so interesting that she was farther away from the other Bold Wings that were huddled around each other. An outsider. Just like her, she’d thought.
Mrithun put up one heck of a fight too. Threw Meira off her back at least a dozen times. Another child had seen and told Meira to find one who was more submissive. But no, even then, Meira knew Mrithun was meant to be hers. Even when the young Bold Wing had bitten into her arm, threatening to tear the meat clean off her bones, Meira had refused to give up on her.
“You jump? From the top of a mountain?” Remis sounded skeptical.
“That is the tradition.”
There had been several long minutes of falling through the haze of fog and cloud where Meira had convinced herself that she wasn’t going to be chosen. That perhaps Mrithun was too stubborn to take a rider or she simply had found Meira as an annoyance. Then she’d seen the rock terrain coming plainly into view, and as she’d prepared for impact, Mrithun had swooped up under her. Colliding with the dragon's spiked spine had been painful and she might have yelped if the breath wasn’t knocked from her lungs.
“There are no mountains for us to readily jump from,” he said into the darkness.
“I’ve thought about that. I don’t think that it is so much that the jump is required but more so it is a choice given to the Bold Wing. They have to want you back.”
Meira could admit now that she did want Remis. At least in some twisted way. She’d wanted to kill him, and maybe that would have solved everything, or maybe when her memories returned she’d realize she’d ruined her life. There was too much unknown for her to make any sort of decision and now here she was with these overwhelming feelings. Now she knew what it felt like when he touched her. She longed for his smile and the way he laughed.
Did he want her though? Truly? Would he choose her?
Remis had been interested in what Kindred had said, but he was interested in the power that it gave him. Was that enough? To be bonded to another human would be far more intense than what they felt with this curse lingering on their skin. Right?
“What do you say, Nikremis Lexmore? Would you like to bond with a witch?”
It might be the only thing that could save them.
33
Remis
Every breath he took brought with it a new rush of agony. He’d done well to keep himself still against the edge of the chamber, except he couldn’t stop from reaching out to Meira. The moment she’d moved close enough and her fingers had brushed his, he’d needed that touch. It was what he thought about when they’d shoved a blade through one of his hands. He remembered how she’d confessed to love when she didn’t understand why or how. Their kisses were art framed and admired in the confines of his memory. They were what he searched for in his mind when a guard had slammed his boot into Remis’ ribs under which several of them cracked.
What do you say, Nikremis Lexmore? Would you like to bond with a witch?
They didn’t know if it would work. They might just be giving each other infections down here in this awful dark dungeon. Though when the other option was the gallows he didn’t see much way around it.
He’d wanted this bond with her anyway, hadn’t he? The power and connection Kindred had spoken of felt like an intoxicating dream. He hadn’t wanted it like this though. What Meira wanted was important too. He didn’t want her with her back up against the wall and no other choice but to jump off a metaphorical mountain into the unknown. Would they catch each other if they tried?
It was already hard to breath but the question had made him exhale so powerfully that it became almost unbearable to inhale again.
As they were, they were bloodied, broken, and weak. If what Kindred had spoken of was real then perhaps this would give them a fighting chance. Meira could be more than a witch and a scale rider, she could be better. He could rival even the best of the mages. They could find a way out of this prison.
“Meira Spektor, it would be my pleasure.” His voice was rough from screaming through the pain before, but he meant every word he said.
Her thumb stroked against his cheek once before she gently pulled her hand away.
“Let me—” She growled under her breath. “Can you cut yourself with your nail? We don’t need a lot of blood.”
The hand that gripped the bars still had an open wound. He didn’t need to cut himself to draw for blood, he was already bleeding. Even his lip was busted and slow to crust over.
“No need, the guards already helped me out with this.” He shoved his aching hand through the bars and felt Meira gingerly reach out.
There was a short intake of breath as she felt around the wound. “I’m sorry,” she said before forcing her finger into the gash.
Dots of color appeared behind his eyes and Remis’ head swam. The cursed mark felt like someone had poured ice-cold water on it one moment and then thrust his hand into a fire the next. Meira’s touch eased away. The colors he’d seen disappeared as quickly as they’d come.
Then Remis wanted.
Meira.
A shared bond.
A life past tomorrow.
All of it he wanted so fiercely. He envisioned that bond, a stretching mental walkway between them, that he’d dove into in the forest with Merritt and Percy. Remembering how he’d flung himself at her until he’d been where she was. Only this time when his consciousness began to shift and his body felt as if it might float away, he found Meira already there. A bridge between them had formed and she stood at its center.
What distance had been created from his mind and his physical body had eased some of the pain he sat in. Now he was able to race toward her light, toward the angelic glowing version of herself that sprinted toward him.
“Don’t stop,” her voice rang out inside of him as though it was his own thought. Remis kept racing toward her, never slowing, not even hesitating when they grew close enough to collide. What part of them existed on this metaphysical plane, passed through each other.
His spirit passed through something thick as a curtain but velvet soft as it parted allowing him entrance. Light poured in and a fresh wind pushed back long strands of hair. He startled as he watched himself—no, not his body, but Meira’s—as she hurried through a home that he knew. He’d never seen this place, but he knew it. Because Meira knew it. His hands, her hands, cradled a small bird, its neck cocked at an unnatural angle. The space with its modest furniture and simple decor was home. They ran around searching for someone with the comfortable ease of knowing.
A woman, all curves, with the same green eyes as Meira stood in the kitchen bent over a bowl, peeling away the outer layer of an onion. Mother. She stopped when she saw them run into the kitchen and come to a sudden stop on the other side of the table.
“I can’t bring it back. Bring it back.” It was a hopeful demand that came from their shared lips.
Mother tucked away the sunbleached strands that had lightened from always working out in her garden and frowned. “It’s just a bird, Meira. Magic takes such a toll on one's body; you must use it wisely.”
“But it fell from the tree. It’s just a baby.” Tears were gathering in their vision, blurring their mother’s image.
“It’s sad, my dear, but it is how the world is.” She left the onion behind and picked up a small cloth, gently wrapping up the body of the bird within it and guiding them outside. “We can bury the bird, give its body back to nature.”
They sniffled. “Martina said that witches can bring animals and sometimes people back to life. Why can’t we?”
Mother slowed then, watched them with a mixture of grief and amusement. “There are many types of witches, Meira. Some can make things out of thin air, others control the weather, and some can make a garden thrive. We are each given a gift, but much like we all look differently, our powers manifest in different ways.”
“But you said all witches can do things like start a fire.”
“Ah.” She nodded as they left the house and strolled through vibrant green grasses. “We can’t all control fire but we can all use nature for small tasks like such.” With a wave of her hand, a wind blew the leaves away from their path. “Anybody can master such magic if only they believe they might.”
The last word echoed. Remis’ vision blurred. Everything steadied once he was made in her body again. This time she was swinging a blade.
On and on it went. Remis relived more memories until suddenly he was thrust back into his body once more. He felt the heaviness of his movements, suddenly feeling sluggish where he’d once been quick and light.
Their cells were still dark but now as he blinked he could make out Meira’s outline and the shadows of her features. The thrum of power that ran in the dirt, water, and air and all things made from nature hummed all around him. He could sense the pocket of it that resided within Meira as well. How he’d sensed her before, her nearness through the bond of the curse, paled in comparison to how he felt her now. It was as though they shared a body. The discomfort she experienced from sitting on her knees on the cold hard stone, the hunger in her stomach, and a lingering curiosity.
Had she been in his head too? Leafing through his memories? What had she seen?
Your father hits you. Her voice in his thoughts.
Remis jumped away from the bars. She’d spoken that but not out loud.
You have a sister.
You love your friends very much.
All true. All things that she’d glimpsed as they’d slammed into each other’s minds.
“You were not forthcoming with your injuries. I can feel them,” she admitted, thankfully out loud.
Remis forced himself to his feet. He swayed, but this time it wasn’t because the guards may or may not have broken a bone in his ankle. It was because the magic he often drew from the world was seeping into his skin without him even trying. It was building up under his flesh and swimming inside of his head. He could hardly think. It was intoxicating.
Both hands skimmed over his bruised ribs. He’d sworn before that they were broken but he breathed easier now. Even the hand Meira had mixed their blood on could easily be moved without him wanting to grunt in pain. Was this how Meira always felt?
“No,” she answered. “This is more. This is better.” She hadn’t stood from where she’d knelt against the bars. Her breaths resounded in the small space.
Remis waved his hand. Wind came to his beck and call tossing straw to one side of the room and thickening the musty scent. He’d done that. He’d done it and he hadn’t even tried, he’d barely even had the thought!
“Meira this is amazing. I’ve never felt so…so…amazing.” There were no words for this.
One minute he’d convinced himself that his father was right. That he would never amount to anything and perhaps his dreams were far too silly and out of reach. Now he was far more than he might have ever been.
“Mrithun. We have to get to Mrithun.” Meira was up then, grabbing the iron bars and tugging them apart as though they were made of thin pieces of string. Her breath was coming in staggering pants as she turned to look back at Remis.
He reached for the bars next, though he didn’t have the strength to pull them apart, all it took was a thought for the magic in him to speak to the magic that resided inside the metal and they moved for him. This was madness! This was magestry!
One step was all it took to get him out of his cell and standing before the witch. He felt her relief as though it was his own and rushed forward tugging her into his chest. He had to breathe her in, hold her, and know she was okay.
“I don’t know what this means for us,” she murmured against his clothes.
“We’ll figure it out, together.” It came naturally to press a kiss to her forehead as if he’d already been doing it for months. All of this was madness though. They’d not known each other for hardly more than a week but he knew he trusted her more than he trusted his own father.
You certainly can’t kill me now, Remis thought and he swore her laughter echoed inside his head.
“Any idea where Mrithun is?” He scratched at his forehead. The guards had dragged him into the building and neglected to offer him the grand tour, but he’d seen plenty as they tossed him into the room and then after when they’d brought him down here. If they could get a level higher, they’d be met with resistance, but they could get to an exit.
Meira turned from him and pointed down the long corridor of cells. “This way.” Then she was running, bolting away with quiet footfalls and fading back into the dark. He lurched forward, too afraid to get lost, though he doubted that would even be possible now. Meira’s life was like an extension of his own body. He knew her, felt her, shared this undeniable well of magic with her.
Sprinting after her, Remis did his best to ignore the smell of rot as it became so thick he was certain there was a dead body down here somewhere. At the end of the hall though, they came to a door. Meira tried the handle and rattled the lock but it didn’t move. He moved in time with her, aware of her next move without her having to tell him. Remis gave her space as she stepped back and kicked the door in with three kicks that sounded far too loud. He strained to hear if the sound had called the guards to investigate.
Light flared in the room, pouring out around curling lips and sharp pointed teeth. Mrithun breathed fire but it stayed trapped in her closed jaw. It was enough to illuminate the room for brief seconds. The Bold Wing was tied like a hog, her wings pinned to the ground. Black blood seeped from her wounds and pooled around her. The harness on her back remained but several of the straps were tattered, torn, and hanging loosely from her body.
