Page 94 of Grave Situation

That’s not as comforting as he seems to think, given our history of him disliking me.

Master Samoine also stands. “I think I’d like to stretch my legs—it was a long flight, and the return journey promises the same. Master Kahwyn, will you join us? I have some questions about the archers’ suicides.” He places the very faintest emphasis on the last word, as though he wants to cement the cause of their deaths in everyone’s minds.

The group disperses, with only Coryn staying to talk softly to a still-sobbing Arimen. Master, Jaimin, and I walk out into the barren fields. Farther south, farmers are still able to get crops in winter, but here in the northern part of Camblin, the frosts and occasional snowfall make it too risky.

“Very well,” Master says when we’re out of hearing distance. “Tell me exactly what happened. When did you realize that… that Leicht…” He trails off uncomfortably.

I blink back tears and clear my throat. “They were shooting arrows toward Leicht,” I say. He knows this, but the story would feel incomplete if I didn’t repeat it. “I thought they were stupid—arrows against a dragon? They were only going to make him angry. Then…” I stop walking and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. “It was as if I wasn’t real anymore. As if my limbs were gone. I knew—I knew…” I open my eyes. They understand. I don’t need to finish that sentence. Resuming our walk, I say, “She was falling, and I wanted to… catch her. It seems stupid now, but I couldn’t let her hit the ground. Leicht caught her and set her down, and I already knew, but seeing her… Leicht was screaming; I could hear him screaming, but then I realized I wasn’t just hearing with my ears.

“His screams were in my mind too. The part of me that was Tia was gone, but there’s something else there now.”

Master looks troubled. “I don’t need to tell you that this is impossible.”

“Believe me, we all know.” I wave a hand to indicate that “we” means me, Jaimin, and Leicht. “But somehow it happened anyway.”

He sighs, then glances at Jaimin.

“I know the twins can—could—communicate mind-to-mind,” Jaimin says quietly. “I’ve suspected for quite a while.” He looks me squarely in the eye. “I won’t betray you.”

I don’t have the emotional energy to untangle everything those words make me feel, so I shove it all aside. “If people knew, they’d lock us up and experiment on us. They still would, especially now that…”

He shudders and repeats, “I won’t betray you. And if somebody finds out and comes for you, I’ll stand between youand them. I don’t understand everything that’s happening, but I know what it feels like to be an anomaly. We stick together.”

“I trust the healer,”Leicht says.“Tia liked him.”

“Thank you.” I ignore Leicht, even though the reminder of how highly Tia regarded Jaimin is comforting, and turn to Master. “We can tell him everything.”

I don’t know if Master feels as confident about that as I do, but he doesn’t betray it in his expression or words. “Talon and Tia weren’t just able to communicate telepathically—they were present in each other’s minds in a way that is, to use a word that’s rapidly becoming meaningless, impossible. The best theory we have is that Talon is so gifted a telepath that as an infant, he unintentionally imprinted on his sister’s brain. Neither of them could remember a time when they couldn’t share thoughts and images.”

“Tia couldn’t initiate a conversation,” I continue. “But she could let me know when she wanted to speak to me. It always felt like she was pulling on an invisible string. I could always tell what she was feeling, and she was the same—if I had a strong reaction to anything, she’d immediately check on me. We were just… linked.” A wave of grief swamps me. The place in my head that was always Tia feels hollow and empty and so very wrong.

Jaimin wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I lean slightly into him. He smells like herbs and horses, and he’s warm against my side. I resist the urge to lay my head on his shoulder. For the first time since Tia died, I don’t feel so devastatingly alone.

“I suppose we need to work with the assumption that the bond transferred when Tia died because of the connection that existed between you,” Master muses. His brows are drawn together in a frown. “I don’t know enough about the bonds between dragons and their riders, I’m afraid. Did Tia ever tell you anything?”

“Not much,” I admit. “Just as there are some things about magehood that I couldn’t share with her, the riders have their secrets too.”

“So she never mentioned whether a bond could be broken?”

Leicht’s hiss in my head is answer enough. “She never said, but… it can’t.”

For a moment, Master looks confused, but then his gaze goes over my shoulder, back toward the camp where Leicht is. “Oh. He truly is in your head, then? He can hear what you hear?”

I shrug, uncomfortable with the concept. “So it seems. I’ve yet to discover a way to block him out.” Although in my defense, I’ve been preoccupied with other things.

“This presents a larger problem,” Jaimin says. “The bond between you and Tia could be hidden. But a bond with Leicht?—”

“He says nobody will know unless he wants them to,” I interrupt.

“Yes, but does he plan to return to the dragons’ valley today? Because that’s what Hearne and Kanesha—and their dragons—will expect. With his bonded gone, it would be the norm for him to go back there, correct?”

“I… He hasn’t said.” Part of me feels ill at the idea, and I don’t fully understand it. Is that because of the bond, or am I just loath to let any remaining link to Tia go?

“Canhe even return?” Master asks. “I thought dragons and their bonded riders couldn’t be separated over long distances for prolonged periods—much like you and Tia.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. Leicht, for once, is quiet. How typical. The one time his input might actually be useful, the overgrown lizard keeps his thoughts to himself.

They both look at me expectantly.

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