Page 109 of Entwined

Interesting, Freya says. I wouldn’t have expected you, a warrior, to choose the strength to endure.

I lift my chin. “You don’t know me.”

Her laughter’s light and bright and painfully beautiful, like everything else about her. You’re right. And you’re wrong.

Again, I feel the sensation of falling as I’m slammed into another scene, another snapshot, and then. . .

I’m in chains.

Axel’s in human form beside me, also in chains.

Shift, I command him. Do it. It won’t hurt as badly.

His eyes find mine, and a pulse shoots through the bond. I’ll feel what you feel. Always. We’re doing this together.

No. This time, unlike the last, I can still feel that it’s not me—I know this is a dream. It’s a vision. It’s not real.

Get me out, I scream. Freya!

You put yourself here. It’s your bond—your decisions—your fault that he’s here. If it weren’t for you, his Azar half wouldn’t have died. You dropped down among the humans to save them as they attacked his people. You released your shield and let the one named Gideon inside to kill you.

A human I don’t recognize—burly, large, and brutal, with hard eyes—is holding a bull whip. It’s a horribly large handle, but his beefy hand still manages to encircle it. “You’ll do as I ask, now.” His hand falls then, and the whip’s tattered and bone-shard adorned end arcs toward Axel’s back.

His bloody, mangled back.

Shift! I shout. Please!

Axel’s body shudders when the nine-tailed whip strikes, but he doesn’t cry out. He simply grunts, and when he looks at me, he shakes his head. If I do, he’ll whip you instead.

The savagely terrible man strikes him again and again, blood spattering away from Axel’s ruined back. Each time, I see the desecration growing, and each time, Axel merely grunts. But then, after the fifth strike, or maybe the sixth, Axel coughs, spitting up blood.

I’m desperate this time. Beyond desperate. Make it stop!

You have the power to stop this right now, Freya says. Only you can stop it, in fact.

How? I’ll do anything. Anything at all. I already know it in my bones—the guilt I feel over what I’ve cost Azar is overpowering. I’ll do anything to make the damage stop.

He never had to die, the flame blessed prince. He chose it. Freya’s voice is calm. He could have given up his memories of you, released his hold on the bond, and that part of him would never have died.

That makes no sense.

I agree. He should have given up his memory of you. You had already died—by abandoning his ties to you, he would have remained strong enough to fight the humans. His grief made him weak.

Another crack sounds as the ends of the whip turn yet another section of his back into hamburger. The man wielding it is laughing. “No matter how brave you are, brother, she’s next. Eventually, in that weak form, you’ll die.”

Axel grunts.

In that moment I realize that since the time we met, I’ve done nothing but weaken Axel. Azar. All of him. I’m an anvil around his neck and always have been.

So what if he loses his memories of me?

He chose to keep his memories of you and live as Axel, Freya says. Would you take that choice from him now, just to restore his strength?

Yes! Do it.

You’re sure?

The whip comes down again, and for the first time, Axel flinches and cries out, and the man holding the whip grins. “Cry for me, brother. Cry.”