Page 33 of Bonds of Blood
“Mom,” I said, stamping my foot and dragging out the syllable. “Honestly, those traitors. And they’re ‘the girls’ now? Anyway, are you coming tonight?”
“I think I’ll pass, thank you. It’s not really my style, and I’d like to get some rest after all of — oh, gods. All of this.”
I studied her face and reached for her hand. “You’re okay though, aren’t you? You’ll tell me if you aren’t.”
She smiled. “More than you know, darling. I’ll need a little time to process everything that’s happened, but to see your father brought to justice brings me relief. Perhaps even some joy. Baylor should answer for his crimes.”
“No disagreement from me there. The Withering, trying to control you, actually controlling me? That was all kinds of fucked up, Mom.”
“I know, Locke.” She stroked my hair, smiling harder as she gazed into my eyes. “But things are going to be better from now on. It’s just you and me now, and I think I’d like that very much. Oh! And a little bird told me that you entered your undine form for the first time?”
Who the fuck was this little bird, anyway? Nosy little shit.
“I did! It was awesome. And weird. Mostly weird. And Mom, how come I was made of salt water? Aren’t you originally from a lake?”
She shrugged. “Water is water. I find that when I’m calmer, I tend to manifest as sweet, fresh water. Perhaps in your anger you remembered what it was like to become a raging ocean.”
“I did,” I breathed, and she understood. It brought utter relief, knowing that someone knew, that someone understood. Gods, how much weirder would my life have been if I’d transformed into an undine for the first time without knowing about my mother’s true nature, or without having her around to hold my hand through it?
“Let me know if you have any more questions about your rapidly changing body.” She clapped me on the cheek. “Hair in funny places and such. I’m going to go see if this castle has a spa.”
I let her off with another bratty, multisyllabic “Mom!” before I finally left the Spire of Radiance. The rest of our friends had already wandered off, Sylvain most likely for a shower, Ember and Satchel to, uh, catch up and reunite. I definitely needed a bath. People made of water needed running water, too.
I found the three of them in my bedchambers when I arrived, and I found them there again after I’d washed up, towel over my head and all. Actually, they’d found a fourth to round out their number. Cutler was on the table chitchatting with the others, he and Ember gesticulating wildly and making exploding noises with their mouths as they recounted their respective battles.
“Before anything else,” I said, finishing with my hair and draping the towel over the back of a chair. “Satchel? I’m so glad you’re back.”
He rubbed his hair, lowering his head to hide a bashful grin. “Aww. Me too, Locke. Thanks for helping me, everyone.”
“But there was one last thing I wanted to discuss with you.” I reached for the Wilde grimoire, flipping through its pages, looking for a particular page. “Here it is. A spell of unbinding.”
Satchel leapt to his feet. Cutler and Ember glanced at each other, then at us.
“You — you don’t understand, Locke,” he started to say. “Baylor Wilde, he took over my head and — he did the same to you! Please.”
“I understand what happened perfectly, Satchel, and I’m only doing this to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Little human,” Sylvain said. “What are you doing?”
“Only what needs to be done. Please let me finish.” I continued reciting the words of the spell. “I release you, familiar, from your bonds of servitude.”
Satchel fell to his knees. My heart twinged. “Please, Locke. Don’t do this.”
A soft breeze blew through the bedchambers. “No longer are you beholden to the whims of a wizard.”
“Master,” he cried, a desperate plea. “Please don’t send me away.”
I told him never to call me that. My heart twinged with pity as I recited the final words of the spell. “From this day forward, you shall call no one master.”
A last, decisive pulse of magic washed over me, the unbinding severing something so deep that it manifested in reality. A gust of wind blasted from a point centered precisely between us. And then — nothing.
Satchel sniffled, wiped at his eyes, then looked down at his hands. “Wait a minute. Is that it? What just happened?”
“I released you,” I told him, stroking his hair with the tip of one finger. “You’re not my familiar anymore. You’re free now. Free to do anything you want. Gods, I didn’t think I’d give you such a scare, Satchel. Sorry about that.”
He flitted up into my face. I yelped when he kicked at my collarbone, dragging his entire arm across his nose. “You’re such a jerk, Locke.”
“In hindsight,” I said, “I could have given you a heads-up about what I was doing. My bad.”
