Page 52 of HeartTorn

She whips her head to one side and scowls up at me. “I won’t. Not until you tell me what you mean to do with that sword.”

“This doesn’t concern you.”

A furious expression washes over her features. “Can you hear that song?” she asks, tremulously. “Can you hear it? Because I can—louder than anything. It’shersong, Taar. And it deserves to be heard.”

I hear no song, only the dissonance of Nyathri’s growls and occasional screams. She is incapable of true song anymore, not in this tortured state. “She is hearttorn,zylnala,” I say, trying to make my voice gentle. “She cannot survive in this world, not without becoming twisted beyond all recognition. Can you not sense that her soul is already nearly lost? Whatever song you think you hear, it is broken.”

“But it can be fixed.”

I shake my head. “The only way to fix this song is for anothervelarinto be formed—a soul-bond. But no licorneir this far gone can be bonded again.”

“But you haven’t tried!” Tears spark in her eyes, and she clenches her fists as though she wants to pummel me. “You’re just going to kill her? You won’t even attempt to find another bond?”

“It too great a risk for both her and the rider.”

Ilsevel looks around at the gathered people. They’ve gone silent now, watching this bizarre tableau of a small human woman berating their king in a foreign tongue. Halamar and Tassa stand on either side of Kildorath just outside the Meeting House. Beyond them, the figures of the eight elders crowd the door, keeping to the shadows. Ilsevel swings an arm, indicating all of them, the whole city, in a single gesture. “Why don’t youlet them decide? Why don’t you let them take the risk if they’re willing?”

I gaze down at her, silent, stern.

“You’ve said it yourself.” Her voice cracks with tension. “You’ve told me there are too few licorneir and, therefore, too few riders. Surely there are those here willing to risk a great deal to form a bond! What about . . .” She spins around and points directly at Tassa. “What about your sister? Have you asked her?”

In that moment I’m grateful most of those gathered do not understand what she says. So much for promising to submit to my rule over the next month! I feel the watchful gazes of the elders, far too keen and interested, waiting for her to overstep so they may justly demand her death.

“Enough,” I growl, low in my throat, and drop my head toward hers. “You’ve been granted a stay of execution. Don’t throw it away over one licorneir.”

Her eyes burn as they meet mine. “But . . . that song . . .” She winces, as though hearing something beyond my range of perception. She ducks her head and turns it to one side, her lips rolled back in a grimace. Then she looks up at me again, pleading. “If you’re willing to risk your neck for a human you don’t know, can I not choose to risk mine for a licorneir?”

We stare at one another. Though I loom over her by more than a head, three times her breadth and ten times her strength and muscle, I feel the force of her spirit striving against mine. She sees through me, straight into my heart in a way no one else ever has. How did I ever become so vulnerable? How did I ever let my guard down?

“Is there anyone here,” I call out in Licornyn, still without breaking eye-contact with her, “who is willing to attempt avelarinwith this licorneir?”

“Kya!”several voices call out at once. One of them is Tassa. She leaps forward several paces in my peripheral vision. I lift myhead and gaze slowly round at those figures crowding to the edge of the green. Their faces are frightened but determined.

“The danger is great,” I remind them, though I shouldn’t have to. They can see for themselves what Nyathri has become; they know what she can and will do to them if given half a chance. “You may not survive the attempt. No one,” I add with emphasis, “has successfully bonded with a licorneir this far gone tovelrhoar.”

“Neither has a human entered the Hidden City before,” Tassa pipes up, her voice crisp and clear in the chill air. “Today seems to be a day for new and impossible things.” I glare her way, but she meets it with a determined lift of her chin.

“Very well,” I sigh. “Every man and woman who have passed theirsylarveltrials may present themselves as candidates to bond with Nyathri. The bonding attempts will be held in the temple, under the supervision of Onor Gantarith, and will commence at noon today.”

25

ILSEVEL

The unicorn riders lead Nyathri away, dragging her between them as she screams and struggles. Her song breaks across my senses like shards of broken glass. It’s all I can do not to cringe and cover my ears. But there is still something melodic in that sound, something of the song that once was. Not for long though. Soon it will morph into a terrible cacophony, riven beyond all hope of repair.

I cannot take my eyes off her. I watch until she is led out of sight, and even then my gods-gift reaches after her, seeking that broken song. Seeking that truth which my soul understands: shame and guilt and heartbreak and sorrow. I want to sing with her, want to join my voice with that clamorous melody, for it seems to me that I might, in the singing, know relief at last for everything that’s so painfully trapped inside me.

Taar’s voice rumbles close at hand. He’s speaking to his sister, who sends me a sharp look before pointing a finger at her brother’s nose. He holds up both hands in a placating gesture. She sighs, nods. They seem to have reached some sort of agreement, and Taar glances at me briefly. His lips part as though he’s going to say something. But then he presses his mouth into a hard line, turns, and marches away, following after the Licornyn riders. The city folk part to let him pass, and he soon disappears from view.

Myvelracord tightens painfully. I surreptitiously rub my forearm, even as Tassa turns to me, narrow-eyed. “Come, brideof my brother,” she says. Her gaze flicks momentarily to my arm then back to my eyes. “You’re with me for the time being.”

Glancing around, I am suddenly aware of how deep into enemy territory I have come. Hundreds of hate-fueled faces surround me, silent but terribly focused. My only ally is this intimidating woman who hates me as much as any of them, who only tolerates my existence for the sake of her brother. “Where are we going?” I ask her, determined not to let my voice shake.

“To the temple.” She indicates my forearm with a wave of her hand. “Thanks to this marriage of yours, you cannot be far from Taar without causing him pain. You must be kept close while the bonding attempts are made, but out of sight so you don’t distract from the proceedings. I am to be your caretaker.”

“And what of your own chance to bond with Nyathri?”

Tassa grimaces. “That is my concern, not yours. Come.”

---