Chapter 33

Every breath he took brought with it a new rush of agony. He’d done well to keep himself still against the edge of the chamber, except he couldn’t stop from reaching out to Meira. The moment she’d moved close enough and her fingers had brushed his, he’d needed that touch. It was what he thought about when they’d shoved a blade through one of his hands. He remembered how she’d confessed to love when she didn’t understand why or how. Their kisses were art framed and admired in the confines of his memory. They were what he searched for in his mind when a guard had slammed his boot into Remis’ ribs under which several of them cracked.

What do you say, Nikremis Lexmore? Would you like to bond with a witch?

They didn’t know if it would work. They might just be giving each other infections down here in this awful dark dungeon. Though when the other option was the gallows he didn’t see much way around it.

He’d wanted this bond with her anyway, hadn’t he? The power and connection Kindred had spoken of felt like an intoxicating dream. He hadn’t wanted it like this though. What Meira wanted was important too. He didn’t want her with her back up against the wall and no other choice but to jump off a metaphorical mountain into the unknown. Would they catch each other if they tried?

It was already hard to breath but the question had made him exhale so powerfully that it became almost unbearable to inhale again.

As they were, they were bloodied, broken, and weak. If what Kindred had spoken of was real then perhaps this would give them a fighting chance. Meira could be more than a witch and a scale rider, she could be better. He could rival even the best of the mages. They could find a way out of this prison.

“Meira Spektor, it would be my pleasure.” His voice was rough from screaming through the pain before, but he meant every word he said.

Her thumb stroked against his cheek once before she gently pulled her hand away.

“Let me—” She growled under her breath. “Can you cut yourself with your nail? We don’t need a lot of blood.”

The hand that gripped the bars still had an open wound. He didn’t need to cut himself to draw for blood, he was already bleeding. Even his lip was busted and slow to crust over.

“No need, the guards already helped me out with this.” He shoved his aching hand through the bars and felt Meira gingerly reach out.

There was a short intake of breath as she felt around the wound. “I’m sorry,” she said before forcing her finger into the gash.

Dots of color appeared behind his eyes and Remis’ head swam. The cursed mark felt like someone had poured ice-cold water on it one moment and then thrust his hand into a fire the next. Meira’s touch eased away. The colors he’d seen disappeared as quickly as they’d come.

Then Remis wanted.

Meira.

A shared bond.

A life past tomorrow.

All of it he wanted so fiercely. He envisioned that bond, a stretching mental walkway between them, that he’d dove into in the forest with Merritt and Percy. Remembering how he’d flung himself at her until he’d been where she was. Only this time when his consciousness began to shift and his body felt as if it might float away, he found Meira already there. A bridge between them had formed and she stood at its center.

What distance had been created from his mind and his physical body had eased some of the pain he sat in. Now he was able to race toward her light, toward the angelic glowing version of herself that sprinted toward him.

“Don’t stop,” her voice rang out inside of him as though it was his own thought. Remis kept racing toward her, never slowing, not even hesitating when they grew close enough to collide. What part of them existed on this metaphysical plane, passed through each other.

His spirit passed through something thick as a curtain but velvet soft as it parted allowing him entrance. Light poured in and a fresh wind pushed back long strands of hair. He startled as he watched himself—no, not his body, but Meira’s—as she hurried through a home that he knew. He’d never seen this place, but he knew it. Because Meira knew it. His hands, her hands, cradled a small bird, its neck cocked at an unnatural angle. The space with its modest furniture and simple decor was home. They ran around searching for someone with the comfortable ease of knowing.

A woman, all curves, with the same green eyes as Meira stood in the kitchen bent over a bowl, peeling away the outer layer of an onion. Mother. She stopped when she saw them run into the kitchen and come to a sudden stop on the other side of the table.

“I can’t bring it back. Bring it back.” It was a hopeful demand that came from their shared lips.

Mother tucked away the sunbleached strands that had lightened from always working out in her garden and frowned. “It’s just a bird, Meira. Magic takes such a toll on one”s body; you must use it wisely.”

“But it fell from the tree. It’s just a baby.” Tears were gathering in their vision, blurring their mother’s image.

“It’s sad, my dear, but it is how the world is.” She left the onion behind and picked up a small cloth, gently wrapping up the body of the bird within it and guiding them outside. “We can bury the bird, give its body back to nature.”

They sniffled. “Martina said that witches can bring animals and sometimes people back to life. Why can’t we?”

Mother slowed then, watched them with a mixture of grief and amusement. “There are many types of witches, Meira. Some can make things out of thin air, others control the weather, and some can make a garden thrive. We are each given a gift, but much like we all look differently, our powers manifest in different ways.”

“But you said all witches can do things like start a fire.”

“Ah.” She nodded as they left the house and strolled through vibrant green grasses. “We can’t all control fire but we can all use nature for small tasks like such.” With a wave of her hand, a wind blew the leaves away from their path. “Anybody can master such magic if only they believe they might.”

The last word echoed. Remis’ vision blurred. Everything steadied once he was made in her body again. This time she was swinging a blade.

On and on it went. Remis relived more memories until suddenly he was thrust back into his body once more. He felt the heaviness of his movements, suddenly feeling sluggish where he’d once been quick and light.

Their cells were still dark but now as he blinked he could make out Meira’s outline and the shadows of her features. The thrum of power that ran in the dirt, water, and air and all things made from nature hummed all around him. He could sense the pocket of it that resided within Meira as well. How he’d sensed her before, her nearness through the bond of the curse, paled in comparison to how he felt her now. It was as though they shared a body. The discomfort she experienced from sitting on her knees on the cold hard stone, the hunger in her stomach, and a lingering curiosity.

Had she been in his head too? Leafing through his memories? What had she seen?

Your father hits you. Her voice in his thoughts.

Remis jumped away from the bars. She’d spoken that but not out loud.

You have a sister.

You love your friends very much.

All true. All things that she’d glimpsed as they’d slammed into each other’s minds.

“You were not forthcoming with your injuries. I can feel them,” she admitted, thankfully out loud.

Remis forced himself to his feet. He swayed, but this time it wasn’t because the guards may or may not have broken a bone in his ankle. It was because the magic he often drew from the world was seeping into his skin without him even trying. It was building up under his flesh and swimming inside of his head. He could hardly think. It was intoxicating.

Both hands skimmed over his bruised ribs. He’d sworn before that they were broken but he breathed easier now. Even the hand Meira had mixed their blood on could easily be moved without him wanting to grunt in pain. Was this how Meira always felt?

“No,” she answered. “This is more. This is better.” She hadn’t stood from where she’d knelt against the bars. Her breaths resounded in the small space.

Remis waved his hand. Wind came to his beck and call tossing straw to one side of the room and thickening the musty scent. He’d done that. He’d done it and he hadn’t even tried, he’d barely even had the thought!

“Meira this is amazing. I’ve never felt so…so…amazing.” There were no words for this.

One minute he’d convinced himself that his father was right. That he would never amount to anything and perhaps his dreams were far too silly and out of reach. Now he was far more than he might have ever been.

“Mrithun. We have to get to Mrithun.” Meira was up then, grabbing the iron bars and tugging them apart as though they were made of thin pieces of string. Her breath was coming in staggering pants as she turned to look back at Remis.

He reached for the bars next, though he didn’t have the strength to pull them apart, all it took was a thought for the magic in him to speak to the magic that resided inside the metal and they moved for him. This was madness! This was magestry!

One step was all it took to get him out of his cell and standing before the witch. He felt her relief as though it was his own and rushed forward tugging her into his chest. He had to breathe her in, hold her, and know she was okay.

“I don’t know what this means for us,” she murmured against his clothes.

“We’ll figure it out, together.” It came naturally to press a kiss to her forehead as if he’d already been doing it for months. All of this was madness though. They’d not known each other for hardly more than a week but he knew he trusted her more than he trusted his own father.

You certainly can’t kill me now,Remis thought and he swore her laughter echoed inside his head.

“Any idea where Mrithun is?” He scratched at his forehead. The guards had dragged him into the building and neglected to offer him the grand tour, but he’d seen plenty as they tossed him into the room and then after when they’d brought him down here. If they could get a level higher, they’d be met with resistance, but they could get to an exit.

Meira turned from him and pointed down the long corridor of cells. “This way.” Then she was running, bolting away with quiet footfalls and fading back into the dark. He lurched forward, too afraid to get lost, though he doubted that would even be possible now. Meira’s life was like an extension of his own body. He knew her, felt her, shared this undeniable well of magic with her.

Sprinting after her, Remis did his best to ignore the smell of rot as it became so thick he was certain there was a dead body down here somewhere. At the end of the hall though, they came to a door. Meira tried the handle and rattled the lock but it didn’t move. He moved in time with her, aware of her next move without her having to tell him. Remis gave her space as she stepped back and kicked the door in with three kicks that sounded far too loud. He strained to hear if the sound had called the guards to investigate.

Light flared in the room, pouring out around curling lips and sharp pointed teeth. Mrithun breathed fire but it stayed trapped in her closed jaw. It was enough to illuminate the room for brief seconds. The Bold Wing was tied like a hog, her wings pinned to the ground. Black blood seeped from her wounds and pooled around her.The harness on her back remained but several of the straps were tattered, torn, and hanging loosely from her body.

“Help me pull the stakes out of her wings!”

Remis hurried to one side and Meira to the other. His muscles strained against the stakes clearly pounded in with the use of a large hammer but he was able to yank it free. More fire flooded the Bold Wing”s mouth as he forced the next one out. In the light, he was able to glance upward. They were in a tower, one that opened up to the night sky. How torturous that must be for Mrithun to be pinned facing the sky she could not take flight in. These guards were cruel men who didn’t understand anything but the hatred they’d been taught.

The moment they’d gotten Mrithun’s wings free they’d each sprung toward the ropes, hastily working at undoing the knots. Remis’ fingers were pricked with splinters from the wood and ropes but he kept trying.

“Stand back!” Meira shouted.

He’d nearly tripped over his own feet backing away toward the walls as Mrithun began thrashing in her bindings. Ropes tore and snapped as the beast rose. With a roar that had him covering his ears, Mrithun broke through the bindings over her mouth and her flames coated the wall before her. Heat filled the room and ate away the cold that had settled in from sitting on the stone floors.

A man bellowed from the opposite end of the long hall. “Sound the alarm! The prisoners are escaping!” Not even a second later a bell was being rung. What time they had, had officially run out.

“Get on her back. We’re going to fly out of here,” Meira shouted, already reaching for one of the spikes that ran along the dragon’s back and hoisting herself up. She offered him a hand.

“Her wings! How can she fly?” The spikes had driven several gaping holes through her wings. He couldn’t imagine that it was very conducive to flight.

“She’ll fly.” Meira beckoned him up. He grabbed her hand, letting her help pull him up behind her.

“How can you know that?”

Meira flashed him a smile, only visible because Mrithun had sent a column of flame through the busted door. “Because she told me.” They took flight then to the sound of men burning. The throes of death had never sounded so good.