Page 98 of The Bound Mage
His voice broke, the ache bleeding through the bond shattering something in her chest. Araya rose up on her toes, brushing her lips against his. Loren sank into her, his hands framing her face like she was the only place he could still breathe.
“There’s only one thing that could stop me from coming back to you,” Araya said when they came up for air, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm. The shadows curled around them both, enveloping them in velvety darkness. “And even then, I’d try.”
Chapter
Forty-One
Dawn crept through the trees,its pale light filtering through the budding branches and gilding the thin mist that curled along the forest floor, pooling in the ruts left by the passing wagons.
Araya watched it, the tension in her chest easing slightly.
Because this was just mist—nothing but water, light, and the hush of an early morning. There were no monsters hiding in its depths, and the only shadow here was the one curled in the collar of her cloak. It had refused to leave her, its presence an invisible comfort even though they didn’t know how far it would be able to stay with her now that they had completed the bond.
The cart bumped over a root, jostling the children packed into its bed. Araya pressed her palm to the side, steadying it as the young fae pulling caught himself. He was still a child himself by fae standards—but he and his friends had begged to stay and fight, only agreeing to come with the children when Loren sat down and gravely charged them with protecting the last hope of the fae.
That hope huddled in the wagons they pulled now. Fifty children, bundled under threadbare blankets. Some blinked sleepily at the trees as they jolted over the uneven ground.Others were too tired to stay awake, their heads lolling with each gentle sway, while others stared into the forest without blinking, stiff and silent.
The very youngest weren’t in the wagons at all. They were carried—in slings tucked tight to their mothers’ breast, or held close against the shoulder of one of the chaperones who walked alongside the wagons. Healers and elders, along with one sworn acolyte begrudgingly assigned to them by the High Luminary.
“Do you really think the temple can stand against them?”
Araya glanced over at Eilwen, meeting the other female’s worried violet gaze. Selan slept in a sling across her chest, his tuft of soft hair just peeking out of the top.
“It’s a good plan,” Araya answered carefully, mindful of the small ears listening. “Gods willing, they don’t even make it ashore.”
Eilwen nodded, but none of the tension left her shoulders. None of the others with them had lived under the New Dominion. They didn’t know what it was like to wake to screams. To see neighbors and loved ones vanish without a trace. To be reduced to nothing but the magic in your blood.
But Araya knew. And so did Eilwen. They were the only ones who understood—in intimate and horrifying detail—what would happen to these children if the Arcanum took them.
And that’s why they were the best people to protect them.
The sun had already climbed well above the horizon when the temple finally came into view. The older children pulling the wagons slowed, faltering as they approached a structure that hardly resembled the abandoned, shadow-shrouded ruin they knew from stories.
The High Luminary had set to work as soon as the shadows started clearing, charging acolytes and devotees to finally lay the dead to rest. With so many growers freed to help, soft greengrass now blanketed the battlefield where bones had littered the mud, studded with sweet-smelling wildflowers.
Veria caught Araya’s eye, nodding as she directed the chaperones and older children to help the younger ones from the wagons. A few little ones clutched toys, or each other’s hands. But no one cried. Even the youngest understood the need for silence as they filed up the stairs and through the gaping hole where the shattered doors had been moved aside.
Araya lingered beside the cart, finding the place where the bond lived deep in her chest. It ached—stretched too tight by the distance between them—but Loren’s presence was still there. Grim and focused, full of tense apprehension instead of the panic and rage she’d expected.
“They haven’t made landfall yet.” She let out a slow breath, not sure if she was relieved or terrified by the revelation. “I thought they were supposed to be here by dawn.”
“Sometimes scouts are wrong.” Eryn shrugged, his hand resting near his dagger as he scanned the tree line. “They could have run into fog at sea. Or maybe they’re gauging our defenses.”
“Maybe they turned around,” Eilwen said quietly. She stared down at her son, her eyes glued to his sleeping face. “King Loren has control of Veilnow. Maybe they’re afraid to face it.”
Araya glanced at Eryn. The spymaster met her gaze, shaking his head slightly to confirm what she already knew. There was no way the New Dominion just gave up. Not if Jaxon knew she was here.
“We should walk the perimeter,” he said. “Just to be safe.”
“That’s a good idea.” Araya turned to Eilwen, forcing as much steadiness into her voice as she could. “Go inside and get Selan settled. I’ll join you as soon as I’m done.”
Eilwen managed a wan smile, tightening her hold on the sling. Araya watched her climb the steps, holding her breath until she disappeared into the dark mouth of the temple.
“She’s so scared,” Araya murmured. Her own voice felt too loud against the hush of the morning.
“They all are." Eryn fell into step beside her as they began their circuit of the ruined walls. “But you have a way of keeping them steady. The way you speak to them, the way you make it feel like there’s still hope…Loren could learn a thing or two from you.”
Araya’s mouth tightened. “He has his own strengths.”
