Page 15 of Sunder

Let them go.

“Can we walk first?” she tried, seeing if her voice worked or if it had been lost as her heart raced with an urgency settled in her veins that frightened her.

She was a child again.

Rushing forward. Thrilled and exhilarated.

Full of hope and certain there could not possibly be any consequences.

But this was a different Orma.

One that could keep her steps measured. Would keep her head.

She would not engage with him, even if she found him. She would learn of him, that was all. Lucian would keep his disappointments to himself if she turned around at any time and went home.

But she didn’t want to go back. She reached out and allowed the tendrils of shimmering light to weave through her fingers, tickling her skin and promising everything would be all right. If she just kept moving, if she just went a little faster as they reached and pulled.

She did not wonder what she looked liked. Did not question when suddenly she was airborne, her wings moving of their own will, pulling her upward. Faster. Enough with her slow gait. This was more important. Fundamental.

Instinctive.

Lucian followed, but she was only vaguely aware of his presence. It was more a nuisance than a comfort—but those weren’t her thoughts, were they? They were this half-formed bond, wanting nothing to interfere now that she’d finally, finally, paid attention.

It frightened her more than she could say.

The numbing haze was a balm, full of promises that could not possibly be real.

She was truly mad. One healer had said so. When all his knowledge had failed to provide a cure and she was still there, wretched and miserable.

She wouldn’t be able to take it. She’d start raving at some point. Dancing along with her lights that weren’t real, and they’d have to consider more drastic measures for her protection.

But it wasn’t just about that, was it?

It was the appearance of it. One of the most prominent families in the city, allowing their mad daughter to roam about freely.

An embarrassment.

She drew her hand back, and her wings slowed. She was higher than she’d gone for a long while, the city below blanketed in black, punctuated with the warm glow of homey windows and bits of moonbeams.

“Orma?” Lucian called, coming as near as he dared. “What’s going on?”

She should answer him. She knew that, in the part that was suddenly caged. Penned. Something else had taken over, and she darted past him, wanting away from him. He’d stop her. She knew that. She wanted to call out to him, to tell him something was very, very wrong, and he needed to take her home. To shutter her window and fetch her parents, and most especially to pour tonics down her throat until this awful feeling went away.

The one that surged and trapped her.

The one that flew with more speed than she’d ever dared attempt in her fragile state.

She would pay for this for days afterward.

Lucian was faster. She glanced back more than once, and to her horror, she felt her teeth bare in something near to a snarl. And it wasn’t her, it was the tangled bond, suddenly free and so terriblyangry.

Orma wasn’t crying, but she wanted to.

She had never imagined this could turn out so badly, not even as she’d tried to dream up even the worst scenarios.

She flew downward. Spinning and twirling as the threads reached out, tangling amongst themselves in their fervour to grasp hold of their target. It was too far—the street below approaching far too quickly, and she closed her eyes and brought her hands out to cover her head.

Only to lurch back as Lucian caught her, pulling her to him as he darted them upward once more. “Talk to me, Orma,” he insisted, shaking her slightly until her eyes focused on him.

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