Page 43 of Marked By the Enemy
Darian didn’t speak for a long time.
“You think he’s part of my court,” he said at last.
“I think he used to be. Or thought he would be.”
The skin became taut around his eyes. “And you still went through?”
“I had to.”
“You weren’t afraid?”
“I was. But I didn’t listen to him. Because the bond didn’t stop me. It warned—but it didn’t close the path.”
Darian rubbed both hands over his face, palms dragging hard over his eyes. “I can’t understand what’s real anymore, Talia. I’m unsure of what they made me forget. I’m unsure who that might have been.”
“Then we remember it together.”
He lowered his hands. His eyes met mine. “What if he was me?”
I didn’t flinch. “Then I walked past you for a reason.”
The tether curled between us.
“What if it was my father?”
“Why would he deter me?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? If he is trying to do something from the afterlife, perhaps he wanted to make things right again and take control from the Bone Seat.”
“You know, Darian…” I gripped his hands in mine.
He sucked in a breath, tense, but didn’t pull away. “What is it?”
“I understand there are memories you remember and don’t remember, and I’m only guessing you are very confused.”
He sniffed and turned to face the wall. He was silent for a few pulses of a heart before he turned back again. “What? What do you want to say?”
“That if and when you ever want to talk about it or try to figure it out together, I will always be here to help.”
He started laughing and pulled his hands away. “You? You don’t even know what you are, Talia. You didn’t ask for this bond, same as me. How could you possibly help fix it?”
He turned on his feet and walked away. He didn’t return.
The bond stayed quiet for most of the morning, but before noon, it tugged faintly. He was present, but far. Not distant enough to worry me, but far enough to be alone. He wasn’t in danger. He’d made that clear. Whatever he needed to sort through, he had chosen to do it without me.
I picked apples and peaches, checked the traps again, and returned with a rabbit and the fruit, though my hands moved without focus. The courtyard was quiet. The rafters above gave no shade. The air was so humid with an underlying tension, like it waited for something to be said and didn’t know how.
That night, I left his portion by the fire. He never returned for it. But when I searched for the bond before sleeping, I sensed him closer. Somewhere near the southern rise, where the old forge stones still caught heat after sundown. He hadn’t gone to the river. He hadn’t left the Keep. He was beside it, waiting. And the bond waited, too.
The following morning, the river was cold, even in summer. I waded in past the reeds and submerged myself all at once, breath held, released slowly through parted lips. The chill helped clear my thoughts.
My muscles ached from lack of sleep. My ribs ached from words I hadn’t said. I dunked once more. When I stood, the water slid off my skin in long streaks. I didn’t hear him until he stepped on the flat stone behind me.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Darian said.
I turned toward the voice. He stood at the edge of the water, boots wet with dew, sleeves rolled high. A satchel slung over his shoulder.
“You didn’t,” I said. My arms crossed loosely. “It’s your river too.”
