Blood Bond (The Stones of Terrene Chronicles Book 4), page 31
She turned slightly. “Are you supposed to be up and moving?”
He eased against the rail, favoring his side. “Says the one who constantly ignored the sage’s counsel regarding her own injuries only a few months ago.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, annoyed, but not enough to warrant sticking her tongue out in the freezing air.
She shrugged and looked out over the mountain range they wove through. “Fine. But don’t complain to me when you get scolded.” She caught his smirk from the corner of her eye, but turned her attention to the bits of ice adhered to the metal rail. “How do you do it?”
Zak’s brow knit. “Do what?”
“Talk to me. Act like nothing’s changed.” She chucked a piece of ice over the rail, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Not look at me like I’m a freak.”
“Hey.” He gently tugged her away from the edge, bobbing slightly to try to catch her gaze. He tilted her chin up, the warmth seeping through his gloves a shock to her frigid skin. His thumb rubbed her cheek. “I love you.” He smirked. “And I know that you love me. And I know that everything that’s happened in the last month was not something you could control any more than I could. The bond is broken. Victor is dead. There is nothing controlling you now. You’re free.” He leaned in, his lips hovering over hers, his breath sweet and warm. “And I trust you.”
Tears leaked from the corners of Jade’s eyes as she tilted her head up, instinctively leaning in, kissing him.
He eased back, still holding onto her. “And I know it’s going to be hard, settling in, finding our new normal. But we’ll do it. Together. In our own time. Got it?”
He gently chucked her chin, smiling softly at her. “Also,” he lifted his other hand, revealing her necklace. The necklace that Ben and Zak had gifted her, the necklace that Victor had taken away. The wrench charm spun slowly in the air, sunlight glinting off the jewels and metal.
“Raine found it back in Tastow,” Zak explained, his voice soft. “She gave it to me for safe keeping.”
“I thought I’d never see it again,” Jade whispered, her tears welling up again.
He gently brushed her hair to the side and settled the necklace around her neck, clasping it for her. “Now it’s back where it belongs. And something we can always remember them by.”
Her vision blurred, and she tried to wipe away the onslaught of new tears, but he pulled her into an embrace, his shoulder taking the brunt of her bittersweet grief. She was scarred, changed, having lost family and friends, and yet not alone. They’d lost so much and gained even more.
She’d missed this. Him. His unbreaking, unshakeable love, his trust, his faith in her. Even after horrors beyond her imagination, his arms wrapped around her, a safety net, a barrier against the cold. A warm haven after the storm.
She was home.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Christopher
Christopher wasn’t in Magus Heights anymore. He didn’t know where he was, except that he was outside, and it definitely wasn’t winter.
He blinked, the sky’s bright blue making his eyes water. Every part of him hurt. The muscles in his leg cried out with each movement. The arrow had shifted, and the steady stream of blood that trickled down his leg began to slow. He inhaled air, but it felt like water in his lungs. Each breath becoming harder.
He was dying.
His eyelashes fluttered, and he turned his head. Long stalks of grass waved gently, brushing against his face. A field of flowers stretched out as far as he could see. Yellow, red, and orange blurred together with such a simple beauty. A stark contrast to the scene he’d left behind. Beyond, a strange tower reached to the sky, oblong chunks of sky visible through the metal framework. A strangely serene yet dissonant melody whirled in the breeze, filling him with a sense of peace, despite the questions that pounded in his head.
Had it worked? Was Zaborah alive? The others? Was Andrea free?
He closed his eyes, focusing on each rasping breath. He felt … different. Like the bond was really gone. Was it because he’d crossed into a land that didn’t have magic, or because the bond was truly broken?
There were no chains in his mind.
No compulsions.
Nothing.
Andrea was free.
He’d done it.
He’d atoned for taking down the barrier. He’d given his sister a chance at a normal life.
He was free.
It was all worth it.
Peace stole over him, dulling the pain, cradling him as his consciousness slipped away. And pain was no more.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Raine
Raine woke up to a foreign world.
She seemed to be in a ditch of some sort. Grass tickled her arm, vibrating. Something large and metal rumbled by, and she pushed herself up to her knees in time to catch the sight of something remotely buggy-like whizzing away.
It didn’t seem out of the ordinary, where the Void had dumped her. Just a trench of sorts, at the corner of a smooth road, near a small collection of crosses varying in size.
This was nothing like home.
The familiar weight of the sword at her hip comforted her. She wasn’t completely helpless in this strange place.
Grass slipped under her boots as she clambered to the top, standing on the green ledge of vegetation next to the gray, packed road. She hesitated, looking back to where she’d been. Was there something special about this place? Some reason why she’d appeared here?
She could come back later. She could ask Pa––
She couldn’t ask Papa. She’d never see him again.
She sank to her knees, arms curled around herself, trying desperately to shield herself from the onslaught of sorrow and pain and silent apologies. Was Papa even alive? She’d left him. There’d been no other choice, but she’d left him. After all he’d done to raise her and care for her, she’d left him.
He’d given her his blessing, and he’d been the one to push her through, knowing she wouldn’t willingly leave him in such a position. But the weight of that action was too heavy for her to think about right now.
Moving. She had to keep moving.
She had to find Ben. Find his sister. Could they find Christopher, too? Where would he and Ben appear? Were they right behind her?
She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the paper that Ben had given her a week ago with Sara’s address printed in his bold scrawl.
A starting point.
Now to find someone who could give her directions to Sara’s.
Hopefully, Ben was already there.
Chapter Seventy
Ben
Sand.
It stretched in every direction, and huge dunes of rock and gravel sprawled as far as Ben could see. Merciless sunshine and heat bore down on him, parching him.
His head felt foggy, unattached. His throat, swollen.
Tacky blood covered his hands.
The flies loved it.
His side ached, blood crusting his clothes to his skin. Every movement seemed to rip his abdomen injury further, spilling fresh blood to attract more flies.
Where was he?
What had happened?
He pulled on his memory, trying to reach out and catch the wisps of flashes. Explosions. Laurent’s blood seeping through his fingers. A grenade.
Torturous day passed into the cool of night.
He pulled himself to his feet, swayed, then collapsed.
How much time passed, he didn’t know.
Voices babbled in a language familiar, and yet foreign. Hands pawed at his side, pressing into swollen flesh. He screamed, his voice a hoarse gasp.
Blackness, sweet relief that blackness, swallowed him.
Chapter Seventy-One
Weston
Weston gathered his meeting notes together, carefully layering the pages to avoid smudging the still-drying ink from his copious notes. He had aides to do such menial things, now that he was back in Lucrum, but he preferred to buck that tradition and do simple chores himself.
He wasn’t the leader his father had been.
Besides, the sacrifice of the three Void Born had begun a wave of change amongst the people, in regards to how Void Born were perceived and should be treated. He wanted every stray thought he’d had in regards to his new proposal to stay in his hands until he could present it.
The Sages’ Jubilee celebration—honoring the seven sages who had erected the barrier to protect their lands—had come and gone. But he planned an addendum to dedicate a day of feasting to their Void Born liberators. He just needed to find a suitable name for the holiday.
Weston would lead the Aerugan people into a new age. One not marked with pointed cruelty and a corrupt leader. He could and would mete out punishments when due, but the discipline would fit the crime. No more throwing people in the dungeon for perceived slights. Gone were the days of requiring servants to perform demeaning tasks just to boost his own ego. He would listen to his people. He would work for their betterment, for their safety, for their growth.
And part of doing all that was to orchestrate meetings like this evening’s. There was much work to be done, and it was a struggle, to be certain. Figuring out how to help the newly freed people for starters. How could the nations work together to get these previously bonded home to the families they’d been separated from? How quickly could they end the civil war that’d been raging for the last two weeks in the north—after the breaking of the blood bond? And how could they provide shelter, food, and care for the people still trapped in the south during the peak of winter?
So many questions, and only a handful of solid answers.
But the seven southern nations were still working together, providing resources to be shared, giving manpower to march north, sending supplies, ideas, and whatever they could to prevent a massive humanitarian crisis.
Great comforts in times of great grief.
Outside the meeting room window, oily black smoke from burning funeral pyres marred the fading sunset. Families mourned, friends wept, and the citizens of Lucrum endeavored to pick themselves up and rebuild.
How long would it take to recover? Emotionally? Physically? Mentally?
Weston had asked that question to Andre right before leaving for Lucrum. Andre had only smiled, eyes sad and mouth lined with sorrows as he’d signed, “One day at a time.”
Andre and King Brandon were only a day behind Weston. Soon they’d be back in Lucrum to meet with some of the best mani-meds Lucrum could offer. Brandon’s road to full recovery from having to amputate his arm would be a long one, and it would be good for them to travel together and rebuild their friendship. Still, Weston missed his friend. He hadn’t lost Andre––not in the way he’d lost Niles. But he felt both absences.
The silence was deafening.
Abigail had followed Weston to Lucrum, citing the need to check on the soldiers that Antius had sent to Aerugo’s aide. Weston was grateful for her company, as she provided a glimmer of normalcy in the post-war chaos. But she’d be returning home in the morning, and Weston didn’t want to face the hollowness in his heart that he’d be forced to acknowledge when all the distractions were gone. His mother had done well, keeping things as organized and taken care of as possible in his absence during a war, but the people expected him to step up, and that required him to let go of the past and move into the future.
Weston shuffled the papers together into an even stack, again—the ink long-since dried. He knuckled the creamy stationary. He should start thinking of cementing some of the alliances, now that the common bond of eminent doom and war was wrapping up.
A hand brushed his elbow, and Weston startled.
Abigail stood there, eyebrow cocked, and a small smile playing at her lips. “Those papers are as neat as you can get them. Are you going to just stand there all day, blowing steam out your ears?”
Heat infused Weston’s cheeks, and he dropped his gaze from her amber eyes to the crystal tabletop. “Sorry. I got lost in thought. Too much going on.”
“Obviously.” Abigail shot him a look, then crossed her arms, satin silver robes flowing gracefully with the movement. “If you’re just going to be a statue, then I’ll spend my last hours of the day in Lucrum sight-seeing by myself.” She raised an eyebrow again, skewering him with a stare full of challenge. “But I was wondering if you were ever going to show me that workshop of yours.”
That’s right. She’d mentioned that in her letter. Something akin to nervousness vibrated under Weston’s skin, but he pretended the fluttering sensation wasn’t there.
He dropped the papers on the table and cast about the room, catching the eye of an aide. He pointed to the papers and called out, “Take these to my office, please.”
The aide nodded and scurried forward, scooping the stack up with a flourish and disappearing out the door with them.
Weston turned fully to Abigail and offered her his arm. “I would love to show you my real workspace.”
Her cheek dimpled as she settled her hand in the crook of his elbow, and they started moving toward the door as one. Guards pulled open the doors for them, and she waited till they were past to ask, “Have you ever been to Antius, Lord Weston?”
“Regrettably, not yet.” Weston waved off a guard and angled toward the shortcut hallway leading to the workshop. Whales, Abigail was going to meet Pistoia. He may regret this soon. “I aspire to visit sometime, though.”
“Hm. You should consider coming in the spring.” Abigail’s face betrayed nothing but serenity as she spoke, making Weston wonder what she was thinking under the veneer of calm. “In the spring, everything is lush and beautiful, and the spring storms on the water are a beauty to behold.” She cast him a speculative glance, and he caught a glimmer of amusement in her eye. “We could show you an example of how Elph and humans mix peacefully, and you could learn firsthand some more of Elphen culture.” She shrugged lightly. “Of course, spring will hit in seven weeks’ time, so that may be a bit soon for you.”
Seven weeks would pass like an eternity, if it meant he could visit the woman he was starting to consider a friend.
The words slipped out of him without a second of thought, “I’ll be there.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
Jade
Jade ran off the Phoenix’s ramp and straight into Krista’s arms. Krista rocked back on her heels, her grip on Jade as strong as Jade’s grip on her.
Krista sobbed, smacking Jade’s arm. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!” She grasped Jade’s shoulders and shook Jade lightly. “What were you thinking? Why in all of Terrene—do you realize—” Krista cut herself off, closing her eyes, tears tracking down her cheeks.
Jade’s own face was wet, and she ignored the movement of others disembarking and entering the Aerugan palace.
Jade’s voice quivered. “I had to. I couldn’t let him hurt you two. I just couldn’t.”
“Don’t you dare do that again.” Krista’s voice broke. “Never, ever, again.”
“I promise. Oh, whales, I’m so glad you’re okay.” Jade tucked herself into Krista’s hug again, drawing strength from her best friend, her sister.
Krista wiped at her face and sniffled. “Come on, Briar’s inside.”
Jade looked back at the Phoenix and smiled to see Zaborah nudge Zak’s shoulder before heading down the ramp and passing them. Zaborah flashed Krista a quick grin, and tossed Jade a quick salute before disappearing inside.
Zak made his way down the ramp with a slower, more reserved pace. His boots touched the Aerugan soil, and he scuffed the toe of the boot against it. He glanced up at Jade through his eyelashes, his lips twisted in a bittersweet grin. “We made it.”
“Against all odds, we did.” Jade cocked her head at him, guessing which thoughts churned below the surface of his calm. She grabbed his hand, knitting their fingers together as she did the same with Krista. Zak’s thumb rubbed the back of Jade’s hand.
Jade spoke to Krista, “Lead on.”
Krista led them through the alabaster halls of the palace, deftly weaving through the bustle of soldiers camping on every flat surface. Doldran reds, Aerugan grays, the green of Antius, the grayish purple of Perennia. A glance down another hall showed a smattering of soldiers from Lasim, Piovant, and Vodan, all with varying injuries. How many had come? How many were left? How many battles had taken place in other areas of Terrene before the bond broke?
The warmth of the kitchens stole over Jade, banishing the last of the chill in her bones. Briar had his back to them, pulling a tray out of an oven while he whistled a jaunty tune that Jade remembered from their days on the Sapphire. He set the tray down and her mouth watered at the sight of his cinnamon spice cookies. A man with a brilliant orange-and-pink swirled shirt reached for one, and Briar turned to smack his hand with a towel.
Briar glanced up and his eyes lit with warm joy. “Jade, Zak!” He slapped down the hand towel he’d used for the tray and hustled past Kerlee and three other chefs.
Kerlee spun on the stool he’d perched on, his jaw dropping at the sight of them. He scooted off his stool and held his side as he hobbled behind Briar’s smooth gait.
Briar had gotten used to his prosthetic while she’d been gone, Jade noted. Satisfaction settled in her heart, balm to her concerns. She’d made the right choice.
Briar stuck his finger in her face. “You scared us all half to death.” His posture softened, and he caught her in a hug that smelled of spice, flour, and kitchen sweat. “And you have my deepest thanks,” he whispered into her ear. He gave her a stern look. “Just don’t do it again, please.”
“I don’t plan on having a situation that requires it.” Jade snarked.
Kerlee teasingly pushed Briar aside. “Stop hogging her to yourself, Cupcake.” He settled his hands on Jade’s shoulders and grinned tremulously while shaking his head. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” He pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank the Author you’re okay.”
