Page 74 of Sunder

She thought of the kiss he’d given her. The one they’d shared after she’d realised what was happening.

She wanted him to be bold with her, she realised. To be kind and thoughtful but also...

To want her.

Every part.

She rubbed at her nose before she nodded to the book. “Let’s get this over with.”

He opened it.

And she was too curious not to read the first of it. The handwriting was small and precise, and she’d made the right decision not closing the shutters so they’d have crisp daylight to read by.

There were lots of little details. Things she could not have remembered. Her height, her wingspan. How responsive she was to the first doses they’d plied her with when she’d cried for the second hour because the bond was cutting her in two.

This was elaborated upon in greater detail. She couldn’t remember the questions they’d posed to her. Was it a sharp pain, or dull? Cutting was an interesting word, did it mean it was a slicing pain or stabbing?

Evidently, her answers had not been satisfactory, and in subsequent days, they’d questioned her again—her responses becoming less coherent as they administered more of the numbing potion.

The ingredients to which Athan moved the book so he could peer at the contents more intently.

She expected to feel his outrage through the bond. There was a tension in his body, which she only knew because she was half lying on top of it. She did not go so far as to tangle her leg over his, but it was still far more than she’d expected she’d want of him.

His emotions were quiet. Contemplative. Which made her nervous for different reasons. If she would become a case to him rather than a person, and it was a gnawing sort of worry that made the next passages less horrific than they might have been.

It was the first posit that surgery might be required. Bonds must have a physical component—he’d theorised on the subject for years. And in a child so young who was responding poorly to the medication, an exploratory exam might become a necessity.

Athan swallowed, but that was the only reaction he gave, turning the page with a sombre look in his eye.

She should keep quiet. Let him keep going without prolonging the process with questions. But there was a strange pull at the bond that made her anxious, and she released a tremulous breath before she shifted, pushing the book slightly to the side so he would look at her instead. “I’m fine,” she reminded him, trying to smile. Trying to soften the serious nature of the texts with a promise that she was all right. Or... mostly all right.

They’d used to do that. When she’d wake from her drugged stupor, they’d give her a pat and assure her that no permanent harm was done.

They had to stop after a while, because... well... because.

He cupped her cheek and smiled back at her, but there was too much sadness in his eyes to make it sincere. “Really,” she urged, wriggling a little higher so she could be the one to look down at him. Her chest was pressed against his, and she shouldcare about that, shouldn’t she? Make sure there was proper distance. Maybe even squish one of the pillows between them.

But he was upset. She could hear the bond more clearly now, and they’d scarcely even begun. “We don’t have to read it,” she reminded him, and it felt good to have reversed their roles. She reached out and smoothed her forefinger down his cheek, then pressed it to the line between his brows. That earned a ripple of amusement through him, and she was glad of it. “We could go play with Brum,” she offered, and it wasn’t because she was cowardly. It was because he hurt, and she wanted to help.

“Brum watches the fish in the stream at this hour. We would bother him.”

“We can’t have that,” Orma agreed, trying to think of something else they might do.

Take a walk. Show her the infirmary. Anything at all, really.

“I need to read it,” Athan countered, smoothing his fingers through her hair and rubbing at the tense muscles in her neck. “I need to understand.”

Her throat burned. “I lived it, Athan,” she murmured. “And even I don’t understand it.” She took a breath and forced herself to meet his eye. “If it’s answers you want, they will not be in there.”

He smiled at her gently. Patiently. “All right,” he amended. “Then I want to know what was done to my mate, and I don’t want her to bear the burden of having to tell it to me.”

She wilted, her forehead resting against his chest as what little strength she had left her. She swallowed back the fears she’d already confessed to him. The arguments.

Instead, she nodded and settled back into his side. Let him hold her for a moment longer before he brought the book back and continued on.

???

It took her longer than it should have to realise what he was doing.

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