Page 59 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

I told them that Aegis had been the one who placed the mellitrium cuffs on my wrists when I was a child, admitting that Markus must have been aligned with Penjan for most of my life.

Io healed me while I spoke, his eyes narrowing as he considered each detail.

He laid my feet across his lap as he worked on them, and I couldn't help but feel my heart contract at the familiarity of his touch on my skin.

It felt like home to be close to him again, perhaps the only real sense of home I had ever had.

I wasn't sure I would ever shed the pervasive feeling of loss when I considered him.

Most of the broken bones in my feet had apparently knitted themselves back together during my magical outburst, so they took far less time to heal than the rest.

When he was finished, he helped me to sit up, and then he took a moment to attempt to remove the mellitrium cuffs from my wrists.

The expression of consternation that crossed his features told me that even his magic was not up to the task of breaking whatever spell kept them in place.

"There's magic here that I don't recognize," he said. "This will take a master, I think."

"It's okay," I said. "I wouldn't know what to do with magic anyway. Maybe I would accidentally melt myself down into a puddle of goo."

Io and Aben laughed, and I thought I even caught a look of mirth from the stoic Britaxia.

Io moved around behind me, searching the back of my head for signs of injury.

I already felt a lot better. The arms had been the worst of it but the slight pressure of his fingers on my skull made me wince and told me I must have hit my head at some point even though I couldn't remember having done so.

"How do you feel?" he said, after he had taken care of the head injury and helped me slide my arms through the sleeves of his coat.

"Much better," I said, releasing a breath.

He continued searching though, running a hand down the side of my neck, assessing.

It sent shivers down my sides. He was only searching for injury, but the touch felt like so much more to me.

It was as though I had been starved of it, and the light pressure of his fingers quenched a hunger I had not known I had.

My chest and guts twisted sharply. That now familiar heartache over the situation I was in replaced the physical pain quicker than I would have believed possible.

It seemed to flow back into all the places freed up by the healing, so that my body ached in an entirely different way.

The pain of my broken heart returned in full force.

"So how did you manage to heal yourself?" Britaxia asked, curiosity obviously winning out against the anger she generally aimed in my direction. "You never actually said."

I explained about biting Mordred, and the strength and rage that had followed—how I’d felt my body healing itself.

I watched their expressions go from curiosity to horror, and then back to clear astonishment.

"He said they had not finished the binding, but I don't know whether or not he was lying.

I...I accidentally crushed his neck before I could question him further.

" I looked down, feeling horror and shame at the things I had done in that blood-fueled rampage, despite the things those men had done to me.

"Well, that's...uh…" Aben began, but then he laughed. "Well, it's pretty badass," he finished with a look of pride directed at me.

Io stood and reached down for my hand to pull me up. On my feet, I did my own assessment of my injuries and belatedly remembered the stitches I ripped loose from my eyelids. My hands went to my eyes, searching gingerly for the wounds.

"What is it?" Io asked, pulling my hand away and looking at my eyes, worriedly.

I didn't care to add to the agony that all my injuries had seemed to cause him, so I shrugged it off. "I thought there was something there, but I was mistaken."

He reached up and ran a fingertip along my lash line. I heard his sharp intake of breath as his fingers found the remains of the scars.

"They stitched your fucking eyes closed?"

I reached up and took his hand, but I was shocked to find his skin was icy cold. I dropped it with a start. His nostrils flared and his mouth tightened into a thin line.

"I will kill them all," he growled so low I could barely hear the words.

A heavy, somehow oppressive wind kicked up the hair around my face as Io turned and began moving in the direction of the balcony. Each foot he laid on the roof tiles sounded with a loud crack as the tiles splintered under his feet.

"Io," Aben warned. "Calm yourself, cousin. You can't take on the entire Penjani army." He stepped in front of Io and put a hand on his shoulder.

A sharp crack sounded, and Aben pulled his hand back with a hiss of pain.

Io pushed past Aben, and I had the sudden thought that he might just be able to take them all on after all. The very air around me tasted and felt of him. And he was angry—so very angry.

I rushed to catch him, standing in front of him and placing my hands on his chest. He stopped, his eyes sliding down to me. They were wild, alive, and far away as though he didn't see me at all. I felt the roof tiles rumble under our feet again.

"Io, man, she's fine. You're going to bring the fucking roof down under us!" Aben said, clutching his hand to his chest as though it still pained him.

Flames licked up from Io's palms. They looked strange and muted as though seeing fire through dark glass.

They began snaking up the edges of his arms, singeing the material of his rolled-up shirtsleeves.

Something of that shadowy face of death began to show through his skin, and his shoulders rose harshly as his breathing quickened.

"Do something, Aben!" Britaxia hissed.

"I'm trying, Tax."

I reached out, taking Io's hands in mine.

Aben lurched forward. "Watch out!" he said, reaching out as though to break the contact between my hands and Io's. He stilled as I pulled Io's burning hands to my face and held them there.

"I'm okay," I said. "See?" I guided his hands across my face and down my neck, showing him that I was whole, trying to prove it with the feel of my unbroken skin.

Slowly, he relaxed. That faraway look in his eyes receded, and he focused on my features. His breathing slowed, and he began to move his hands across my face himself.

The rumbling in the roof tiles ceased, and the weird flames on his hands lessened until they were only a faint golden glow.

He cupped my face and pulled me towards him, leaning his forehead against mine. He let loose a shuddering breath. "I will never let anyone hurt you again, Sera. I swear it."

"I know," I said, laying my hand against his cheek, feeling the coarse stubble that covered his jaw.

And then he released me, dropping to one knee in front of me.

I reached for him automatically, but he pulled his sword from its scabbard and held it point-down in front of him—as though offering it to me.

I tentatively reached out my hand, unsure what to do. I looked to find that Aben and Britaxia had pointedly moved to the edge of the roof with their backs to us.

Io clasped my hand onto his sword. The warmth of his big fingers pressed mine onto the smooth, rounded idylstone inlaid into the pommel.

When he spoke, it was with a reverence that I did not expect. His deep voice said the words, and they washed through my soul like fire, like a burning chain entwining us together, binding him to me just as surely as though my soul was reaved to his.

"Nothing like this will ever happen to you again, I swear it.

I offer my body and strength to ensure it, my kingdom to uphold it.

I pledge my sword and my life to you, Aelia of Windemere.

With this vow, I become your servant—of blood and of bone and of fire.

I will give my life to defend you and lay my honor and duty at your feet.

I shall never move against you lest this blade be quenched in the blood of my own beating heart. "

Silence fell. The only sound was the thundering of my heart in my ears as a warm breeze ruffled Io's hair, sending the dark strands dancing across his forehead.

"You have to accept," Aben said, from behind him.

I looked down at the big, beautiful, powerful man kneeling at my feet, and I felt tears spill from my eyes.

The honor was too great. The oath of fealty, said in the old words—words that had survived the cataclysm that burned the world—words from an ancient civilization when almost everything else had been lost to the forces of time and nature—words that carried more than just their weight in service.

They were an unbreakable oath of loyalty—binding him to me by blood and by bone and by fire.

"I accept," I said. He laid his forehead against our clasped hands for just a moment as the harsh, guttural cry of a dragon echoed through the smoky air.