Page 111 of Broken Souls
“So is this hers from when she shapeshifted?” she asks.
“No. That colt she raised found her after mating season and gifted her his first horn.”
Her eyes widen in wonder. I let her stare at it for a bit, the silence between us this time not as heavy as it’s been for the past few days. With my fingers still around her wrist, I stroke my thumb across her skin ever so slowly, trying not to draw attention to my need to touch her. My chest aches as I watch the emotions flit across her face. Gods, she’s so fucking beautiful.
She glances up at me, then sucks in a breath when she catches me staring. Her cheeks heat an adorable pink as she clears her throat and quickly looks away. “You said I need to know about the kezja alicorns too?”
I spin her around by the arm, a quick pull and a sidestep so her back is pressed against my chest and my arms are wrapped around her. She stiffens.
“Kezja alicorns come together every year to find their one true mate. It is a ritual that takes place over a month in the skies of Halzaja, normally over the open ocean and out of sight. But whenever they happen to mate above land, tourists flock from all across the Seven Planes just to watch them, and celebrations are held for the entire time they’re above that city.
“It is the one moment in time when angels and demons work together. The angels police the skies above, and the drazic demons take care of any ruckus on the ground. The sight is said to be one of the most beautiful things to witness in all of the Seven Planes because the kezjic dance to find their mates.”
I drag her wand arm up her body, from the hip it was at to the opposite shoulder, then feather it out further until her arm is nearly outstretched but with her elbow still bent. As I guide her limb through a fluidity of motions, I move my other hand to her stomach and get her to rock her hips in rhythm to mine. “The movement starts in your wrist,” I say.
I can feel her concentration in the stiffness of her limb.
“Relax. Just close your eyes, and let the wind take you.”
“There’s no wind in here.”
“Close your eyes, Micha, and feel it under your wings.”
She blows out a breath, but her eyes drift shut. I guide her wrist up and down, side to side in slow patterns, and her heartbeat starts to slow as she stops fighting me. Her hips sway from side to side as her arm moves in fluid motions I no longer control. My fingers are just on her wrist, holding her to me as she soars in the imagination of her mind, the black feathers of a kezja alicorn ruffled in the breeze, the embers of its soul imprinting on the air behind.
“Good girl,” I murmur. “You’re doing so well.”
She stiffens for a few seconds, then relaxes again, finding that fluidity she needs. She isn’t graceful; her movements aren’t ‘pretty,’ but what they are is free.
And that is what kezjic’s value over everything else. The freedom tobe.
The wand starts to glow softly; the sound of a crackling fire hums from it, and Micha opens her eyes with a small gasp. “It feels…” She struggles to find the words, and a jolt of envy hits me. I practiced for ten years, dedicated hours every day to feel the connection with my wand, and yet it never happened. But she spends one hour, and the look on her face is one of utter amazement and joy and wonder.
The longer I stare at her though, the more my envy fades. I might not have ever felt the bond of a wand, and I might not feel the blood bond yet, but I have experienced all she is feeling now. I experience it every time I look at her.
She takes my fucking breath away.
“Marry me,” I blurt.
Her eyes jerk to mine. She knows we are to wed as soon as the baby is believed to make it to full term. Miscarriages are all too common in witches, and it is the last back-out clause in our marriage contract. A Shadow does not divorce.
Just like kezjic mate for life.
“I said I –” she starts, but I cut in.
“No, marry me now. Today.” I spin her around and drop to one knee in front of her. I pull off one of the rings I wear, a black band I thought gave me extra power until Mother told me the truth. I wish I had an actual ring picked out, one that didn’t have so many lies around it, but I don’t want to wait that long to ask her. To beg her to be mine again.
“I know I fucked up, Micha. I hammered that screw into your hands, cut that knife through your fingers, and I broke the promise I made to you. That you were mine to love and protect and fucking worship. And then I raped you, didn’t listen when you told me no. I ignored your boundaries for a second time, and even though I was under the effects of the Craving, I accept responsibility for that, and I am sorry. And I am so fucking sorry for the pain you are carrying and will continue to carry because of what I’ve done.”
I grab her left hand as she stares at me with wetness in her eyes.
“Fuck, baby, I know that pain will never go away. I know that trust will never go back to how it used to be, but if you bless me with a lifetime with you, I swear I’ll dedicate every moment of it forging a new trust, new memories to counter that pain.
“I need you, Micha.” My voice breaks as the words spill out. “These last few days, I have been listening for any whisper of your words, watching for any smiles you give. And when you laughed at what Maddox said at dinner last night, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him for getting to experience what I needed.”
I shake my head, trying to remember everything I have read these past few days about how to express myself, how to turn what I feel into words so I don’t fuck it up. But my chest is squeezing and my lungs are aching and my head is feeling all the pressure of research and midnight attempts at speaking to mirrors.
“I don’t want you to say yes to stop my pain,” I say. “Because I will carry the agony of what I did to you for the rest of my life. Shit, Micha. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did, and I will never forgive myself for that even if you do. But I’m asking you to marry me because I love you.”
