Page 4 of The Bound Mage
Araya choked on the dirty gag, twisting in her restraints. The straps cut into her wrists, harsh leather abrading her skin?—
No. Not leather. Silk.
Her eyes flew open. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, bile sour at the back of her throat. No rancid gag. No cold iron. Just a bed and dim sunlight shining in the window, illuminating the unfamiliar room.
This wasn’t Kaldrath, but it wasn’t Jaxon’s bedroom or even her small room at Serafina’s house either. She wasn’t even in theNew Dominion. She was on Eluneth, where she had spent the last week as the honoredguestof Prince Loren of Valendral, heir to the fae throne and the miserable bastard who hadrescuedher from her carefully curated life against her will.
Whoever was at the door knocked again, hard enough to rattle the chair jammed against the doorknob.
“Coming,” Araya croaked.
She freed herself from the tangled sheets, dragging a robe over her sweat-soaked nightgown. She moved the chair away from the door, cracking it open just enough to peer out at the fae Healer who stood on the other side.
“You were screaming,” Ilyana said, her delicate face creased with concern.
“I had a nightmare,” Araya said, her hand still tight on the doorframe. Ilyana had been here every day—checking on her injuries, asking questions. All on Loren’s orders, no doubt.
“Ah—” Ilyana’s expression softened with understanding. “That’s not unusual. Many refugees have nightmares?—”
“I’m not a refugee.” Araya interrupted. “And I don’t need daily check-ins with a Healer. I’m sure your skills could be put to better use somewhere else.”
“Of course.” Ilyana inclined her head, making no move to step away. “But I’m here now—so I may as well have a look.”
Araya sighed, letting the door swing open as she stepped back. They’d had a variation of this argument every morning for the past three days. The Healer wouldn’t leave until Araya finally gave up and acquiesced to the exam.
Araya flinched, hissing a breath in through her teeth as Ilyana pressed two fingers to the edge of the fading bruise at her temple. The Healer didn’t comment, simply adjusting the angle of her touch as she mapped the bruise with practiced care.
“Still a bit tender,” she murmured. “Any dizziness when you stand?”
Araya shook her head.
“Good.” Ilyana took Araya’s hand, moving it carefully to manipulate the joint. “This has healed nicely as well.” She turned Araya’s hand, studying the rune inked at the base of her thumb. “And how old were you when they bound your power?”
“Seven.” Araya tugged her hand out of the Healer’s grip, tucking it back inside her robe. “Why?”
“So young.” Ilyana sighed, a frown creasing her forehead. “It could explain the nightmares. You never got the chance to grow into your full magic—much less develop the stamina to wield it. Since your runes don’t work here you’re replenishing power more quickly than you’re accustomed to?—”
“What?” Araya straightened, her heart racing. “What do you mean they don’t work?”
“Human runes don’t hold power themselves, they borrow it. When you crossed the Veil you cut them off from their source—” Ilyana blinked, her voice faltering as Araya stared at her. “Didn’t Prince Loren explain this?”
“His Royal Highness hasn’t taken the time to explain anything,” Araya snapped. “I haven’t even seen him since he dragged me here against my will.”
“Oh. Well—” the Healer cleared her throat. “You were in much better condition than most fae who arrive here. Your magic was depleted, but you weren’t malnourished or gravely injured. It’s already recovering—it will keep growing to what should have been your natural limit here. Far past what the humans ever allowed.”
“No—” Araya’s stomach twisted. “I don’t want that. Undo it.” Her voice broke, catching in her throat. “Please.”
“It’s not something that can be undone,” Ilyana said gently. “Or something that can be stopped. Some refugees—especially if their power was bound young—say it feels like too much, too fast. But I have exercises that will help you build your magicalendurance. And if you’re worried about theta’nararune, you don’t have to be. Fae don’t conceive unless both partners are willing. If you want either of them removed, we have runesmiths who can assist?—”
“Removed?” Araya barked out a short laugh, pressing a fist to her mouth when it caught in her throat, too close to a sob. “I—no. I don’t want that.”
“No one will force you to remove them,” Ilyana said quickly. “Many females choose to leave them intact—even bonded females. As long as you stay on this side of the Shadowed Veil, you don’t have anything to fear here.”
“Until he crosses.” Araya gave a brittle laugh. “What happens then?”
“No human has ever crossed the Shadowed Veil,” Ilyana said gently. “He can’t hurt you here, Araya. You’re safe.”
Araya turned her back on the Healer, staring out the window at the churning wall of shadows that stood between her and everything she’d ever known. Crossing it once had almost killed her—but if any human could figure it out, it would be Jaxon Shaw.
