Page 37 of Synodic

They were much lighter now, almost glowing with small freckles of light.

My dad had been right. Something was swimming in the grey depths, and I could see that long-dormant creature reaching for the surface. Waiting to be unleashed.

The physical change frightened me, and I shook my hands out absentmindedly as my fingertips sizzled with panicky jitters. I returned to my room and dressed in a pair of black running leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweater that hid my ghastly bruise. I let my hair air-dry, bringing out my natural waves before pulling it back into a messy ponytail. The shorter pieces slipped from my grasp and fell to frame my face.

I sent out a few emails and put my auto-response toaway. Work was the last thing I wanted to worry about as I dealt with the realization that I’d been traveling to another world. I could definitely take time off for that.

I dimmed the lights in my room, shut the curtains, and sat on my floor with my eyes closed and back straight. Resting my hands comfortably on my knees, I slowed my breathing to a gentle pulse and cleared my mind of everything except for one thing—Rowen.

I was surprised by how arranged my thoughts were. Normally, they were confused, jumbled balls of yarn, but in this moment I knew exactly what I wanted. Behind my eyes, the tangled mess unraveled, revealing a single strand of silvery starlight. I knew I only had to pull on the string, follow it, and it would take me where I wanted to go.

I gently ran my fingers along the beautiful thread of consciousness, the refracted bits of stardust dancing and sparkling along my skin. My breath was so shallow I was barely breathing at all.

I tugged at the mesmerizing string, and the moment I did, I felt a whisper of hesitation. Would I be able to come back? Would I be stuck in Luneth forever?

But it was too late. I was already falling through stars of dust, light, and shadow.

16

A smug grin lifted my cheeks at the success of my first intentional crossing.

I was in Luneth, sitting in the same straight-back position from moments ago in my bedroom. The exact dome, bed, and netting from earlier today surrounded me, but a different gaze greeted me back to this strange new world. Instead of Takoda’s kind smile, it was Rowen’s worried scowl.

“Thank the Spirits,” he exhaled in evident relief as his forest eyes burned with the fire that crackled in the center of the room.

Careful not to put any pressure on my tender wrist, I slid across the blankets, stopping when the slit of the canopy draped down around me. Now face to face with Rowen, his eyes leveled up to mine through the thick of his lashes. He sat on a wooden chair at the foot of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The low neckline of his shirt billowed forward, and the nearby firelight danced across the strong planes of his face, arms, and exposed chest, accentuating the deep cuts of his precise body.

I saw him through new eyes, knowing he was more than just a figment of my imagination, and I studied him further, attempting to decipher the shadows that leapt across his face.

“What happened? Is Takoda alright?” I asked, snapping out of my trance, knowing I wouldn’t solve the puzzle that was Rowen tonight.

“We saw you were appearing, and he left to brew you a healing tea—to help with any injuries you sustained from Graem,” he said, his expression twisting with disgust.

“What happened to him?"

“We let him go. He’s more useful to us as a messenger than a corpse,” Rowen said with a strained edge. “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done—not killing him, watching him scurry back into the forest. After he threw you down, I was frightened by how still you were. When you leave, you are gone in the blink of an eye, as if you were never there. This time you slowly flickered away. And honestly, I don’t know what’s worse—you vanishing in an instant or slowly slipping through my fingers. I wanted to kill him for what he did to you.”

“I’m fine,” I said, strangely grateful for the events that led me to know this was all real.

Rowen sighed and slowly took my hand in his large calloused palm. I held my breath. He’d never handled me this lightly before, and I questioned the sudden gentleness. He carefully pushed up the sleeve of my sweater, his fingertips tracing along the translucent skin of my wrist until he revealed the entirety of my marred and swollen arm.

His eyes darkened. “You are not fine.”

“It’s just one bruise,” I said, surprised by his keen attention to my body.

“No, Keira, it’s not.” He hooked one finger along the neckline of my shirt and gently tugged the material down.

Confused, I followed his gaze. I hadn’t noticed before, but all across my chest and down my shoulder were dark sweeping bruises. Most likely from where Graem’s clumsy fingers clawed at my neck as he tried to undress me.

“I should have killed him,” he said vehemently, and it wasn’t just the fire burning in his eyes now but a searing hot hatred.

His fingers lightly brushed against my collarbone, knocking my breath into hyperdrive. Usually he avoided physical contact if he could, but here he was reaching for me, touching me as if he needed to feel that I was just as alive and real as he was.

The walls of Rowen’s measured control lowered as he flattened his palm against the bare skin of my chest. He trailed his hand at my neck, gently tracing the purple bruises as if willing to erase them with his touch. My heart hammered through my ribcage, and I wondered if he could feel its rampant beating. Somehow his touch was even more amplified now that I knew he was a man of flesh and blood, not dreams and mist.

With my chest rising and falling beneath his hand, I never took my eyes off his furiously pained expression. He looked to be torturing himself over what happened with Graem.

He was right. It was traumatic and violating, and I cringed at the thought of that giant’s eyes and hands on me, tearing at my clothes, but Rowen’s soothing touch was more powerful than Graem’s, and it overrode the memory of being aggressively strip-searched.

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