Page 32 of The Bound Mage
Araya stepped back, a pink flush darkening her cheeks all the way to the jagged tips of her ears. Loren let his hand drop, the echo of her tension humming under his skin.
“You said your mother was fae and your father was half-fae.” He tucked his hands behind his back so he didn’t reach for her again, willing his voice to stay steady. “Did you ever speak Valenya?”
“I—Yes. At one point.” She frowned. “But I was very young.”
“Would you like to see if you can remember?”
He knew it was a mistake the instant her face lit up. His resolve to keep his distance crumbled, the myriad of reasons why getting closer would only break both their hearts paling against the brightness of her smile.
“I’d like that,” Araya said. And—Goddess help him—Loren smiled back.
Chapter
Eleven
They settledinto a rhythm after that. Every morning, Loren was already waiting for her when she arrived, some book or scroll laid out before him and a cup of steaming tea at his elbow. She’d been horrified at first—until he’d shown her how the pages had been enchanted to repel moisture, protecting them from the ever-present damp and spilled tea cups.
Hours stretched into days, quickly becoming weeks at that oak table, his shadows draped lazily over the surrounding tables and chairs. He might spend a whole morning patiently helping her translate the texts she wanted, offering quiet instruction on Valenya as they went.
“You’re picking it up quickly,” Loren said, watching her from across the table.
“I’ve had worse teachers.” Araya buried her nose in the journal he’d given her to read to hide the way her cheeks flushed at his praise. It felt too easy, too natural to sit across from him like this. And while her logical mind knew it was the bond—pulling her toward him and blurring lines she couldn’t afford to lose sight of—her heart struggled to remember that he was her captor, not her friend.
“Here,” he said, turning the scroll he’d been perusing toward her. “This word—it’s one of the roots we talked about yesterday.”
Araya leaned forward, shoving the loose waves of her hair over her shoulders for what felt like the hundredth time. She didn’t know what had possessed her to leave it loose this morning. It was so impractical—always getting in her face and catching between her back and the chair.
“Dara,” she murmured, feeling the shape of the word with her lips. “That means fear, right?”
“Dread,” Loren corrected. “That’s why we call the shadowsdara’el—the dread.”
“Because they’re not actually shadows, right?” Araya frowned down at the scroll. “That would benoct’el.”
“Correct.” Loren nodded, his gaze drifting over the delicate, faded script. “Dara’elmight appear as shadows, but it’s not just simple darkness. It’s pure power. A gift from the Goddess herself.”
Araya traced the word again, stealing another glance at him. He stared down at the parchment, the ever-present dark circles under his eyes worse than they’d been even a week ago. Did he have nightmares too? Or was it something else that kept him awake at night?
“I thought they were going to kill you,” she said softly. “On the boat.”
“They were.” Loren tugged at his sleeve, rubbing at the dark mark it hid without seeming to realize what he was doing. “Until you talked them out of it. Which was foolish, by the way.” He frowned at her, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening. “You had no idea they wouldn’t just kill you too.”
“We all would have died if they’d sunk the boat.” Araya shrugged. “And I didn’t think it was fair that they were judging you so harshly.”
“That’s their job.” His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “The Goddess gavedara’elto the fae to mark those worthy of leading in her absence. The strongest, the most capable—the fae who were most suited to guide and protect her people until her return. A job I’m clearly failing at.”
Araya frowned, something about the way he said it settling wrong in her chest. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” she said. “You endured twenty-five years of torture without ever once giving the Arcanum what they wanted.”
“And yet, the shadows don’t obey me.” He waved a hand at the shadows spread out across the room. “They react. Sometimes, our goals align…but when they don’t?” He shook his head, his jaw tight. “I thought they were going to attack you in the dining room. I live in constant fear of losing control and hurting someone I love.”
Araya’s stomach twisted, the accusation he didn’t speak gnawing at her. “And that’s my fault, isn’t it? Because I don’t want to complete the bond?”
Loren’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing.
“No—” he leaned forward, like he might reach for her but thought better of it at the last moment. “Bonded pairs are typically more powerful—but it’snotyour fault,ael’sura. The shadows are mine to control—or to fail at. That’s on me, not you.”
Araya flushed, her gaze fixed on the journal open in front of her without seeing it. Maybehebelieved that, but she had a feeling his sister would have disagreed.
“We’ve been at this for hours.” Loren snapped his book closed, shoving back from the table. “It’s time for lunch.”
