Page 5 of Entwined

And am I welcome to take the bond of your human? Asteria straightens, turning fully to face my mother. As far as I know, a bond cannot be dissolved, but it can be transferred. She looks like she’s smiling. Will you allow me to try to take your bond?

No, Ocharta says. I don’t allow it.

I’m less concerned about your refusal, Asteria says. You didn’t have permission in the first place.

Mom stands up. I had begun to think she wasn’t allowed to move. “Why would you take my bond?”

She won’t, Ocharta snarls. You’re mine forever.

That’s why, Asteria says. My sister can’t be allowed to ruin things that could otherwise be beautiful. Asteria’s head swivels upward, staring at where I’m sitting on Azar’s back. A bond between blessed and human can be a powerful thing, but only if it’s voluntary.

My mother drops to her knees, her face falling into the dirt.

I forbid it, Ocharta hisses.

“I’ve begged for death.” I can barely hear my mother, with the way she’s facing the ground.

I realize that Ocharta must be forcing her there.

Mom raises her voice. “No one will grant my wish. I suppose having a different blessed might be my only other option.”

What did you do? Asteria asks. How did you take the bond?

She’s asking Azar a question he can’t answer.

“He felt for my bond,” I say, “just as you’d feel for the capacity in any human, and then he pulled as hard as he could.” I shudder. “It was not comfortable.”

Mom’s laughter is dark and hollow. “Nothing about this ever has been.”

Asteria shifts and her eyes narrow as she stares intently at Mom. And then I feel it, the soul-sucking feeling, like an enormous vacuum’s pointed at me and turned to maximum.

My hands tighten on the ridges on Azar’s back.

She can’t take you, Azar says.

“She’s not even trying,” I say.

But as the feeling intensifies, I almost wonder.

Is she?

The feeling moves quickly from uncomfortable to painful. It seems like the trees around us should be bowing, their branches whipping toward the source of the vortex-feeling—Asteria. The pain grows slowly, but steadily, until my hands are trembling where they’re gripping Azar’s red scales.

My mother, however, is shrieking, her body rigid and trembling. Her skin’s pale, her eyes rolled back in her head, and her muscles are taut.

“Stop,” I say. “It’s killing her.”

The suction-feeling disappears, and I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Mom collapses against the dirt, completely spent.

That’s not how it felt for you? Asteria looks entirely fine, totally unbothered.

I lean against Azar’s back. “Not like that, no, but maybe because Ocharta’s fighting it.”

Her lovely face sags a bit. I’ll think about it and try again.

Ocharta’s laughing as Azar launches into the sky. I hate leaving my mother like that—prone and lying in the dirt, with her tormentor now free and apparently healed—but I’m not sure what else to do. I didn’t even wave at my mom before we bolted.

“Don’t you need to, like, tell them you’re leaving or something?”

---