Page 91 of Burdened Bonds

I wake.

The pain hits me and I wince, my body contracting into a tight ball. I force myself to uncurl and reach for the cup of stale water resting by my side. With a shaking hand, I bring it to my lips, most of it spilling down my front and over my chin. My lips are cracked, and the water stings. I gulp it down. My leg is no longer contorted and twisted, my arm no longer hangs loose, but there are new injuries to my body. Cracked ribs that make it hard to breathe, a smashed nose, a bloody hand.

I drop the cup, to the floor, and lean back against the damp wall, panting.

I can hear footsteps behind the door. Drawing nearerand nearer, closer to my cell. I brace myself. It could be the delivery of today’s rations of food – if you can call it food. Or it could be another interrogation, another beating.

The lock clunks, the door draws open.

I blink. Am I dreaming again? Is my mind playing tricks on me? Or is this …

“Hello Tristan,” I say and he steps forward from the shadows.

“Looking good,” he tells me, stepping into the cell.

I manage a smile, the expression causing my lip to split open, and I taste blood in my mouth. “You know me, I like to look my best. Have you come here to gloat or–”

He frowns. “I’ve come to get you the hell out of here,” he says.

“Then I hope you’re prepared to carry me, man, because I can barely fucking stand.”

“Lucky I’m damn good at healing you then.” He steps further into the cell, crouching down in front of me, and peering through the darkness into my face. “Fuck, man,” he mutters, taking a grip of the back of my head and resting his forehead against mine. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

I open my mouth to reply to him, to give him one of my usual witty remarks, but I have nothing, nothing to say, just a lump forming in my throat.

“Just get me the hell out of here, Tris,” I whisper at last, “please.”

He squeezes the back of my neck and meets my gaze. His emerald eyes are wet. “Of course.”

Then he’s closing his eyelids and muttering under his breath. I feel his magic sink into my body, warm, comforting, all the pain melting away. My own eyelids droop.

“Stay with me,” Tristan says. “Stay awake.”

I nod and force myself to concentrate in on thesensations of his magic creeping through my body, working to repair all the damage. Is it my imagination or does his magic seem different than it did before? In my mind’s eye, his magic was always a vivid blue like the color of the sky. Now it’s more purple like the sky right after sunset. And there’s something wilder about it.

“Your magic’s changed,” I say.

“The bond,” he tells me.

“How … how does it feel?” I ask.

He frowns, his eyes still closed. “Painful.”

“Because you’re apart?”

He nods. “It’s impacting the strength of my magic.”

“Where is she?”

He hesitates, the frown growing deeper on his face. “I don’t know.”

I grip his wrist, leaning forward. “She’s not–”

“No, no. Fuck, I’d know if she were.”

“Then why aren’t you out searching for her?”

“I’m going to.” He opens his eyes. “But I came to rescue you first.” I lean back against the wall.