Page 89 of Bound By Darkness

He scratched his head as a puff of air clouded around him. Only the stars and occasional sprite lighted the grassy expanse.

“The records mentioned your family, too. I knew her name from there, scribbled among the parchment.”

“That’s personal information.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have looked, but I was interested in you. In your story.”

“I’m starting to hate that word,” I muttered. “My story isn’tinteresting. I lostmy entire family in one night because of King Hywell… because of Armas yet it’s been reduced to a mere few sentences.”

I missed them more than anything. I missed their laughter. I missed how my sister and I would sneak out of the house to the ocean while my mother frantically searched for her missing daughters.

“Tell me more,” he said softly after a pause. “Tell me who they were, what they believed in, what they looked liked. Tell me so their memories might live on in someone else.”

It shouldn’t have dispersed my frustration so quickly, but it did as I opened my mouth and told him of a time before the prison—of my fondest memories.

I told him how I’d discovered my family dead that night, their corpses rotting in the bedroom. I told him how I’d fled and how my casting ability exploded as guards tracked me. I told him my family had been discovered because they had been hiding me.

He listened through it all, his chin dipping in nods occasionally as I told the story of my past.

My mouth grew dry as I talked, shed tears, and reminisced about a painted life filled with vibrant colors until they turned dull. Somehow I’d wound up sitting next to him, the edges tickling my nose as I hugged the blanket to my neck.

“They sounded wonderful,” he stated after a few moments of silence. “Except for your mother.”

I scoffed. “That’s the most accurate thing you’ve ever said.” My vision blurred as I remembered years of torment. Years of suffering her abuse while my father was absent. It’s why I hated it when he left, because the hitting and the chains would unveil themselves.

It’s why I hated chains, because she stuffed me into them each night my father was absent to keep her safe. To keepothers from discovering a caster lived among them—a cursed caster unlike my sister.

He chuckled, his eyes hazy and thick. “Was she always like that?”

I shook my head as the memories dissipated to black. “No,” I added. “No. It wasn’t until she found out about my casting she declined. I was the spawn of curses, so she shielded me from the world in fear of her life. If not for my father, I would have been chained to my bed forever.”

My fingers grazed over my wrists at the faint lines slowly fading with time. Sometimes, it still lingered. A phantom ghost dragging me to the ground.

I blinked as I loosened my grip around my wrists, my knuckles white. “Anyways,” I muttered, brushing the concern in his eyes away. “She preferred Yeva to me. They were two peas in a pod. Wherever mother lingered, Yeva followed suit unless she defied her orders to hang out with me.”

“You must have been close.”

My heart grieved at the statement, my eyes growing wet. “Yes,” I choked. “Even if mother disapproved, we were together when we could be. Sneaking out until dawn, exploring vacant shorelines, or exploring the nearby forest.”

“What about your father?” he asked. “Did he disapprove of the two of you being together?”

“Oh no,” I said abruptly. “Father did everything he could to keep us together, but as I said, he wasn’t around much. He traveled a lot. A merchant making a living based on the valuable items he collected from various cities.”

A smile crept across my face at the stories and merchandise he would spread onto the kitchen counter. “For a human, he’d explored and seen more than most Fae would in their entire existence. A true free spirit.”

“Did he ever travel back home to the Mainland?”

“No. He ran away from home and said he refused to return because nothing waited for him there.”

Ivan’s eyes softened as if replaying a memory in his mind. “I know that feeling.”

I bit my lip as my legs curled to my chest. “Tell me more. About you. About your past.”

“There’s not much to tell. You’d find it hauntingly boring.”

“Please.” My head turned to the side, my eyes narrowing softly as I leaned into the air between us, my heart steady and my mind quiet. Always quiet around him.

He ran a scarred hand down his face as he scratched the stubble forming along his jawline. I did not think he would speak, but he cleared his throat after a few minutes.

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