18. Mira

eighteen

Mira

"I think it best if we start with some ground rules."

Tairyn's voice rolls through me the same way his gaze does.

"I wasn't aware we were playing a game," I retort, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow at him.

His mouth twists into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Of course you were."

As much as I like to tease and poke at Sunder, that desire is tenfold with Tairyn. However, it lacks the same light-hearted nature. It's darker. Deeper.

I don't understand it, but it's almost compulsive. Something about his face, the way he carries himself, pushes me. With almost a bored tone, I say, "First rule: don't fall in love with me. You won't be able to let me go like you promised."

Hiding my shock at my presumptuous words, I watch as gleeful surprise sprints across his face and disappears. Tairyn chuckles softly, a hint of something dangerous beneath the surface, like a giant leviathan lurking beneath the smooth veneer of a moonlit lake, silently biding its time. His laughter is like the slow ripples spreading out, hinting at the beast hidden below.

"Second rule," he says, his green eyes twinkling with wicked delight, "don't presume to give me orders, nin anto anna."

The words are foreign, clearly an elvish language. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of asking him what it means. Instead, I narrow my eyes at him and retort, "Third rule: speak in a language I understand."

Tairyn arches an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "As you wish," he says, with a slight bow of his head, the picture of sarcasm. "My last stipulation is that you refrain from touching me, however tempted you may be."

His tone is stern, no longer taunting. My mind immediately flashes to being bent over like a rag doll and spanked. Heat floods into my chest, my cheeks. "No worries there," I spit back. Not my most elegant reply, but I can hardly think straight when I'm flustered.

"Good. We have an understanding then. Sit, Vessel, and I'll begin."

I grit my teeth against both the ache in my leg and the pain in my ass known as Tairyn. I don't know what I hate more; him probably calling me a bitch in Elvish or Vessel. When I plop down on the chaise, he moves fluidly beside me. So close I can smell him. Our gazes lock and there's no mocking or twisted amusement as he kneels beside me. Heat radiates from his fingers as they hover just over my leg.

"Think of Chroma like a rope draping deep into a bottomless well. Each of us is granted a different hue, like a singular thread in a rope. If you're strong enough, you might occasionally be able to grip the entire rope, demanding it obey you. That's how you channel white. There's no secret, only strength."

The intensity in those emerald eyes glaze over as he turns to my leg, concentration deepening the furrow in his brow just as a single thread of white slinks from his hand into my flesh. A sudden rush of cold, easing the ache inside. I take a deep breath, watching as a single bead of sweat drips from his brow from effort as he pushes the last of into me. Finally, he finishes and leans back on his heels. A hint of exhaustion touches his eyes.

A small voice in the back of my head notes his action, using enough magic to tire himself to heal what is nothing more than an inconvenient injury at this point.

Internally, I roll my eyes at that voice. He also took me prisoner.

"Will you remove this shield now so I can try?"

Even tired, I'm not stupid enough to think he couldn't overpower me if I tried to attack him with my Chroma. More and more, I'm convinced that the episode with Yurghen was a crazy fluke. I've never replicated anything close to that, and with Tairyn, I think I might need that much power to take him down.

He takes his time rising to his feet, only answering once he's leaned his shoulder against the bookcase. His eyes rake across my entire body, both an inspection and an unspoken warning. Don't make me crush you, it says. Probably more eloquent, though.

Without a single motion, the shield between me and my Chroma is gone. It comes flooding back into my veins, itching to be released. I breathe instant relief as I close my eyes and immediately sense the two bonded threads in my mind.

One is taut, ready to break. Hard yet brittle, the sense of Sunder when I caress that thread nearly brings a tear to my eye. The other is thicker. Softer and wrapping around the other. Bobble is holding Sunder together. I can detect them both faintly, far to the East.

Immediately I sense something pulse from them, like a blurry picture coming into focus, and I know they can feel me too. A mutual acknowledgment of our welfare, our existence.

I suppress a smile and open my eyes, only to remember that I need to look like I'm trying to channel white.

"How are the two louts?" he drawls from the corner of the room.

No use in pretending. "Far." The bitterness in my tone is for Tairyn along, though. He did this to us. Tore us apart. My reply seems to catch him off guard. His lips tighten, and for a moment, he looks almost regretful.

"Well, that's a real shame. I thought for sure they'd be able to put that brain cell to use and find you sooner." Feigning disinterest, he retrieves a worn leather-bound book from the shelving behind him. However, he doesn't reinstate my shield despite me confirming I've just connected with my mates.

"Why did white Chroma appear when we touched in the forest that day?"

The question pops up, emboldened by the presence inside my mind, but he gives me a withering stare that I almost shrink back from. "I know my intelligence and knowledge seem boundless, but I do not, in fact, know the answers to everything."

"And why did they say you smelled like Yurghen?"

"Certainly, because I do. Or did, at least. Hopefully, I've fully scrubbed my body clean of it by now."

He slams the book he's been thumbing through and shoves it back into place along the shelf. "Are you going to dodge every question I ask, Tairyn? If you want a bond, let me in. Get to know me in return. And that means showing some trust."

Tairyn's eyes flash with something I can't quite identify before it's cloaked back behind his usual cool demeanor. His fingers tap a rhythm on the spine of another book, and I recognize it as a habit when he's thoughtful, or perhaps uncomfortable.

"Fine but you'll answer my questions in return," he grumbles out, but the smarmy smile is back. He waits for me to agree before continuing. "When I first woke up in this… state, I sought him out. Asked if I could apprentice and learn more about soul magic."

"Is that how you got your Chroma back without the bond?" I ask, a little too eager perhaps. He doesn't balk at that follow-up question though and nods.

"You could say that, yes."

His features darken, as if seeing something troubling in the distance. A shiver of trepidation seizes me on the inside, a sudden realization that this path I'm treading, seeking answers from Tairyn, is dangerous. I swallow audibly, pressing on regardless. "What did it cost you?"

His gaze snaps to mine, sharp and focused. "Everything," he whispers. I remember my brief time in Yurghen's tower, a subject to his experiments. A shadow rolls over me, casting Tairyn in a different light. I remember the way the light in Sunder's eyes dimmed at his torture, all in the name of scholarship.

I look at Tairyn now, all sharp angles and defenses. Walls around him are so high you could call him a one-man fortress. I bet it did cost him everything to go there and learn from that monster. Leaning back in my luxurious chaise, a blip of sympathy for him blossoms in my chest.

"When I heard a rumor about what'd been done, I went there to his tower to see for myself. Grabbed a few useful books while I was there. It wasn't hard to pick up your scent from there. Of course, that meant sidestepping him. Now, that's three questions you owe me." He holds up one finger as he asks, "You said the bond is not about physical intimacy. Tell me what you know about this."

"Wait. What do you mean by sidestepping him? Like his… body?"

His eyes dance with renewed interest, but his face betrays nothing. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

My heart is racing like he's already dropped some horrible bombshell on me. There's something in his tone screaming WARNING! WARNING! All my alarm bells are ringing.

"Yurghen is alive. His soul is tethered to this world. He can't be killed."

His screams echo in my mind. His burning, charred flesh. "No, he was basically a pile of ash when we left."

Tairyn's head shakes, almost regretful. The blood drains from my face.

"What does that even mean? Is he coming for me? What about Sunder and Bobble? Are they safe?"

The questions pour out of me, a torrent of panic. Tairyn's gaze narrows, looking at me with an intensity that makes me feel like I'm under a microscope. He raises his hands, motioning for me to settle down. "Calm yourself, Vessel," he says, his voice surprisingly soothing. "Safe? I wouldn't say that. But… Yurghen isn't in a condition to be a threat, not for now at least."

"What does that mean? Not a threat for now?" My voice is rising again, edging on hysterics. My hands ball at my sides, fingernails digging into my palms. I'm not sure if I'm more terrified or angry.

Tairyn sighs, running a hand through his meticulously groomed hair in an uncharacteristically frustrated gesture. He hesitates, his keen green eyes studying me carefully. "I don't have all the information. For now, you need to rest, as I've lost count of the number of questions you now owe me."

Rest does not come easily that night. I toss and turn, mind racing over every horrible possibility. It's nearly dawn when I finally succumb to exhaustion.