Page 81 of Unbound

"You don't have to do that."

"You can tell me when you'll be here, or I'll simply make a point of following you around at all hours. One way or another, I’ll be here."

My lips curve up. "You're threatening to stalk me?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Why? Why have you been trying so hard to keep me alive? And don't tell me it's because I helped you in the elemental plane. You were protecting me before that."

Raith's face is an unreadable mask. It’s several long seconds before he finally answers. "There was somebody I used to know. Somebody who was a far better person than me. I failed to keep him alive when the time came, and I swore I would find a way to make it up to him."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"You remind me of him. In a way. There's a… light in you. Something that seems like it would go on burning even in a fucking rainstorm. That's how he was. Too good for this world, maybe. And I let it take him."

His eyes blaze with the memory, and my heart aches for him, his grief becoming mine for a moment, sharp as broken glass and twice as cutting.

"What was his name?" I ask, voice soft.

"Gareth."

He doesn't say more, but the silence seems to have a voice of its own with Raith. I feel a sudden certainty that Gareth and his death had something to do with the scars on Raith's body. Maybe Gareth is even the reason he's here at Confluence.

"I'll let you know before I come back here."

"Good. Now get back to your room, Nessa. I'm going to hang back and make sure he doesn't have you followed."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak again. It's not because I'm worried I'll talk about my what Voss told me, either. I'm afraid to speak because Raith finally let down his walls, even if it was only for an instant. And gods. I didn't realize how badly I wanted to be let inside his guard—to be closer to him.

Ever since that first day, I felt a confusing kind of connection to him. A pull.

And until recently, all I've ever sensed was him pushing me away from that force.

Tonight, he let me drift just a little bit closer, and I'm terrified by how much I want more of that feeling—that closeness.

I head down the stairs, noting Typhon's unusual quietness but figuring he's just grumpy after a day of posing as a flying fish.

Despite the confusion lingering at the edges of my mind, one thought remains clear in the swirl of emotions the last half hour brought: I've found an ally in the most unexpected place. Someone who understands what I am. Someone who can help me control my powers.

And all I have to do is keep it to myself.

18

"You're outnumbered three-to-one. The enemy has the high ground on this ridgeline here with established fortifications. What's your plan?" Instructor Pilton's voice cuts through the Military Tactics classroom, his single arm gesturing emphatically at the large map pinned to the front wall.

Two days have passed since my meeting with Voss, and I still can't shake the unusual lightness in my chest. The knowledge that the Rector of Confluence knows what I am, understands it, and doesn't want me dead… to call it a relief would be an understatement. Tomorrow evening, I'll meet with him again for my first official mentoring session. With any luck, I might even manifest my power during our meeting.

Considering my unbound manifestation could be absolutely anything, my mind has been constantly wandering with possibilities. Mostly, though, I just hope it’s not something terrible—something like what Lorkan Grace manifested.

I drag my attention back to the map, studying the scenario Pilton has laid out. The classroom is arranged in tiers, with legacies at the front in comfortable chairs, aspirants behind them in decent seating, and until recently, offerings crammed at the back on hard benches. Now that we're all aspirants, the class feels less stratified, though old habits die hard. Most former offerings still cluster toward the back, myself included. Little by little, we’ve mingled with those who started as aspirants, but it’s slow progress. For the most part, cliques and groups of trust already formed before Confluence Day, and we’re still seen as outsiders.

A legacy in the front row—a tall, thin air with white-blonde hair—suggests sacrificing a portion of his forces for a distraction so the rest of the squadron can get behind the enemy for a surprise attack. Pilton immediately launches into a critique of the approach, his bushy eyebrows drawing together as he paces.

"You could solve this tactical problem easily,"Typhon notes dryly in my mind."One ancient water dragon could eliminate their entire force without complex maneuvering."

"Not helpful," I mutter under my breath.

"Miss Thorne," Pilton calls suddenly, making me straighten. The damn man misses nothing. "You seem to have strong opinions on this matter. Care to share your approach with the class?"

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