Page 32 of Ties of Death

Mundil’s bracer is battered, dull copper. Grommet holes with ragged brown leather ties line one side to tighten for fit. The most interesting thing about it is the curling script rimming its edges, but I can’t read it. I wonder if it’s the same runes that the monks use in their magic.

Daenn slips the bracer on, and immediately there’s a pulling sensation in my chest. Daenn staggers. I rush to his side, catching his arm.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “It was just unexpected.” He tugs away from me and walks to the bed. His steps are straight, but he drops onto the bed with a little more heaviness than usual for him.

That pulling sensation continues. I’m being carved out with a spoon. Painful, yet distant. I search for my magical reserves,and I don’t think I’m imagining that they’re thinner. Less accessible.

“It’s working.” Daenn’s voice comes out a little ragged.

“Is it?” I counter. If I feel this way, how ishefeeling?

He only gives me a nod, and it’s in character enough with who he is now that I can’t tell if it’s because he’s in too much pain to speak or if he’s just being taciturn.

“Is it killing you?” I can’t help but ask. I need to know if it is before it’s too late so I can rip the bracer off him, since he’ll probably be too weak to do it himself.

The question earns me a raspy chuckle. “No, Emi. It’s not killing me. I’m fine. The force of it shocked me a little at first, but it’s already ebbed.” His mouth pulls down into a frown. “I don’t think it’s going to be enough. We’ll have to go get the other one. And I’ll leave this one on—perhaps it will continue to siphon my magic away over time and the deed will be done by the time we get back to the mountain.”

I can tell he’s right. The pulling sensation has lessened, though it hasn’t faded entirely. I hate it. His worry threads through his fear over our bond. I want to call him on it, but what good would it do? The magic is dangerous. We knew there was a risk in searching for these bracers. It’s a risk Daenn is willing to take.

It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

…Isn’t it?

18

Seared into My Memory

Iwake sobbing.

Blank eyes and contorted faces fill my vision, lingering even into my waking. I barely even saw our attackers, but they’re seared into my memory, preserved solely to populate my nightmares.

There’s a soft touch on my shoulder, and I scream, scrambling backward across the bed. Maybe it’s the man I killed, come back to haunt me from death.

“You’re safe.” Daenn’s voice is soft, with a rumbly quality like he just woke up. “I won’t hurt you.”

I gasp in a breath and force myself to look at him, focus on him instead of the horrifying images in my mind. It’s far harder to do than it should be, but once I manage it, my whole body begins to calm. Whatever else he is, however complicated our relationship is now, Daenn is safe. I may not have believed it when he first stole me away—was that really only a few days ago?—but I do now.

“Was it a nightmare?”

I can only nod. I don’t trust myself to speak quite yet.

Daenn is crouched by my bed, but he carefully shifts to sit on the edge. I didn’t even hear him move from his spot on the floor in front of the door. “About the attack?”

My small shiver is answer enough for him. Anger and a flare of protectiveness flit past me over the bond. “They’re gone, Emana. They can’t hurt you again.”

This drags words out of me, clawing their way free in an anguished cry. “I killed him!”

Understanding softens Daenn’s face. He closes the distance, laying one gloved hand on my blanket-covered knee. “You defended us. Killing isn’t something to revel in, but sometimes it’s necessary.”

I know his words are true… logically. But I can’t banish the lingering guilt or my grief over the life I stole. “It’s so… so permanent. And heavy.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t try to soften the word. “But would you choose differently if given the chance?”

I want to say yes, but… “If I had, you—we—might have died.”

“They certainly would have kept trying, though I’d like to think my skills are honed enough to avoid outright death from such a cowardly attack.” There’s a hint of wryness to his tone, but he sobers as he continues. “We definitely wouldn’t have gotten out of the fight unscathed.”

“You think I made the right choice?” I don’t mean to phrase it as a question, but that’s how it comes out.

---