Page 24 of The Bound Mage
Nyra was long gone—along with Araya’s only hope of escape. What would she think if she knew the weatherworker had pushed to slit her throat and leave her in a back alley for Jaxon to find?
“Well,” Thorne drawled as they walked into the main hall. “You two look terrible.”
Araya flinched, her boots scuffing against the stone, and Loren had to bite back the urge to snap at his oldest friend over his tone. But Thorne’s sharp eyes betrayed his concern, lingering on the dirt smeared across Araya’s skin, mixed with blood where she’d fallen and scraped her hands. Loren was certain he didn’t look any better, but Thorne didn’t press them for answers.
“Eloria is looking for you both,” he said instead. “She wants you in Lumaria.”
“We aren’t available.” Loren tossed his cloak across the back of a chair, grimacing as the bond tugged in his chest, raw and sore. “Araya needs a proper schedule.”
Her head whipped toward him, her silver eyes flashing. “A schedule for what?”
“For training your magic.” He met her glare, refusing to look away even as her anger pulsed hot down the bond. “You almost killed us both because you don’t know how to use your own power properly. It’s dangerous and unacceptable.”
“No.” She drew herself up to her full height, crossing her arms over her chest. “I won’t do it. Who would even teach me?”
“Me.” Loren scowled at her. “And it’s not up for debate. You’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you without control.”
Araya flinched back, her hurt booming like a bruise between them. “Sorry to be such a disappointment,” she spat. “I guess that’s what you get for claiming a mate you never actually wanted. I’d rather eat glass than work with you. I want Thorne to teach me.”
The shadows reared back, hissing their displeasure. Their fury lashed at him, demanding he cut down the male she’d chosen over him.
“Enough.” Loren’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. He glared at Araya, meeting her silver gaze with his own fury. “You’re finished here. Go to your room.”
Her chin lifted, fresh outrage flooding their connection. For a heartbeat he thought she might defy him—but then she spun on her heel and stormed toward the stairs.
Loren watched her go. Every step she took clawed at him, her hurt and anger twisting the knife in an already open wound. But he didn’t call her back.
“You told her then,” Thorne said as her footsteps faded. “How did she take it?”
“Don’t be an ass,” Loren growled. “The shadows already want to rip you to shreds. Don’t give them an excuse.”
Thorne’s sharp gaze flicked to the darkness writhing at Loren’s feet. He wouldn’t be able to hear the whispers—the dark, insistent chorus demanding that Loren loose his grip and unleash them on the threat to their bond—but he took a step back anyway.
“You know you can’t ignore Eloria,” he said. “She’s regent. If she wants Araya in Lumaria?—”
“She’s not going,” Loren snapped. “Not unless you want to watch the shadows murder the entire Small Council. The way they talk about her—” he shook his head, sagging against one of the armchairs. “I’ll go by myself. I just…need a minute.”
“They’re that bad, then?”
“It’s a constant battle.” Loren sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Especially where she’s concerned.”
“You know, talking might help?—”
Loren straightened, shaking his head. “Just…keep an eye on her for me. Please. You’re the only one I trust not to try and use her.”
“Alright,” Thorne said reluctantly. “But?—”
“Thank you.” Loren turned for the stairs, not giving his friend a chance to finish. The shadows trailed after him like reluctant hounds, their incessant muttering not quite drowning out Thorne’s deep, disappointed sigh.
“I toldyou she wouldn’t be happy.”
Loren pulled his hood up, twitching his cloak to fully cover the shadows. They curled against him, muttering words he couldn’t quite make out.
“She never asked for any of this,” he continued, lowering his voice as they approached the outskirts of the shantytown that had sprung up outside Lumaria’s walls. “You have no excuse for being surprised.”
They didn’t answer him—not in words. But a cold band of power coiled tight around his chest, squeezing painfully tight against his ribs.Theyhadn’t wanted to leave her, howling so frantically in his ears that he’d given in and stopped to check on her before he left, hoping that it would settle them.
She’d been asleep, her face soft and unguarded in the dim light that shone through her window. She hadn’t even changed her clothes—as if exhaustion had dragged her into her nest of blankets before she could do more than kick off her boots. He’d stood there too long, battling the urge to reach for her until shame had driven him back into the hall.
