Page 24 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Fear flashes in his eyes, and it breaks my heart. He hesitates, but I can tell he believes me. He’s probably piecing together the evidence. I reach for him, but he steps back.
“Styx,” I whisper. “I’m not like the others, I promise. Like it or not, we’re all in this together. None of us had a choice. Give me a chance.”
His doubt vanishes, and he is again the picture of violence. “Perhaps I can’t use magic directly on you, but you are mortal. I can still crack open your ribs and feast on your heart.”
“This might be true.” I shrug. “But pointless. You just said it—I am mortal. Titania stole my magic. I can’t hurt you even if our bond allowed it.”
“What do you mean, allowed?” Bodin asks, eyes narrowing.
“It means that I am your mate. We are equals. Even if I had magic, I can’t use it to entrap or hurt you any more than you can with me. The worst we can do is steal each other’s magic without permission.” I roll my eyes. “I know this because my mom complains that my dad does it sometimes and surprises her.”
“Clarke.” Legion rests his head against closed fists, his shoulders sinking.
“Yes!” I gasp, heart soaring. “And Rush. You remember?”
He nods, trembles, and breathes with stilted gasps but keeps his head in his hands.
A frown pinches my brows. I can do nothing for him now except wait it out.
Fox said he had to constantly remind them of the truth—but it worked. Maybe that’s all I need to do now. Turning to the others, I show them my wounded palm. “When Fox activated the spell in the temple to swap with Styx, I broke the glass containing Tinger’s wisp?—”
“Who is Tinger?” Bodin barks.
“—my friend from Elphyne. That one drop of his mana filled me with enough power to trigger our bond. You all must have felt it as I did. Your magic poured into me from six different places. My mating mark turned blue—like your Guardian blessings. The same mark appeared on Fox’s neck and Styx’s. But when Tinger’s magic waned, I was left empty again. The bond faded.”
At their confusion, I deflate and scrub my face. Maybe this won’t work coming from me.
Legion makes a pained sound that draws our attention. He is hunched over, seized. His fists are clenched so tight that his fingernails cut his palms. A trickle of blood winds down each wrist, following the path of a distended vein until it hits a folded black cuff.
I fall onto my knees before him and gently place my hands over his fists. He vibrates with tension and continues to give low, shallow grunts of pain with each hissed intake of breath. What is it that hurts him so much? What memories are causing the pain? Or is it simply the load of so many, so fast?
“Legion,” I whisper. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re all here if you need anything.”
All here except Fox.
I tighten my grip on his hands—but they’re much larger than mine. It feels as ineffectual as a mouse gripping a lion.
“Try to breathe,” I add. “Inhale deeply and exhale slowly. It might take time to adjust to your memories.”
His hands flip to capture mine and squeeze. Hard. I try not to gasp from the pain. Instead, I repeat my instructions. Slowly, breath by breath, he stops trembling. Through the curtain of his hair, his long, thick lashes lift. Our eyes lock. The power of his recognition is visceral, robbing me of breath. Every doubt I’ve ever had about our connection, about me, about the world is washed away under the weight of his emotion.
“You came.” His hoarse whisper sounds almost awed, baffled, as if I am too good for him—for them. As if he’s the one who is awkward and unsure of himself.
A tentative smile touches my lips. “To be fair, I came because I wanted to kill you all.”
Styx snarls at the threat.
“But you didn’t.” He gives his Sixth an amused, affectionate glance. It reminds me of a look Rory once gave me when she found me hiding from Alfie and his friends playing Kiss-Chasey. I told her boys gross me out, so I hid.Just wait,her look said.One day, you’ll think differently.Legion’s gaze suddenly darkens on me, and he lowers his voice. “So, you and Fox . . .”
A blush rises to my cheeks. I bite my lower lip and nod. Some kind of peace settles in his eyes. There are no words to describe how he makes me feel at this moment. After suffering from eons of memories, it is the knowledge Fox and I found comfort in each other’s arms that gives him relief. It tightens my chest, connects us, and sings all at once.
His gaze hardens as he turns my palms face up.
“No one has healed you,” he mutters darkly, staring at the puffy wounds left by Tinger’s pendant. “May I?”
On my nod, he traces a finger in circles around my wounds. Magic itches my skin as it heals, sending shivers throughout my body. When it’s done, he helps me to my feet.
“This is ridiculous,” Styx snaps. “She has ensorcelled you. It’s obvious.”
