Page 8

Chapter

Seven

Araya stepped into Jaxon’s office, her gaze snagging on the spread of runesmithing tools laid out across the desk. Every one of them was iron-tipped—for use on fae. Her fingers twitched, a shiver skimming down her spine before she could stop it.

Focus on now, she told herself, taking a deep breath. This was necessary—once it was done she wouldn’t have to think about this again.

Kai looked up from his instruments, a broad grin splitting his face. “Araya,” he greeted her warmly, his tone a sharp contrast to the cruel instruments in front of him. “Ready?”

“Is anyone ever ready?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. In Kaldrath, a non-answer like that would have earned her a slap—or worse. But Kai only chuckled.

“I guess not,” he conceded. “You’re a mage, so I won’t bore you with all the basics. You already know you have two primary runes— ly’ithra to regulate your magic and ta’nara to—” His voice faltered, and he grimaced slightly. “To suppress fertility. Jaxon requested personal control of the ly’ithra rune, with ta’nara staying as it is for now. ”

Araya nodded, and Kai’s grin widened, his relief evident.

“I’m glad you’re both on the same page with that,” he said. “It’s not always this straightforward.”

“Do you do a lot of bondings?” Araya asked, sinking into one of the leather armchairs in front of the desk as she tried not to let her nerves get the better of her.

Kai’s grin faltered. “Some.” He cleared his throat and busied himself with the iron-tipped instruments on Jaxon’s desk. “Most of them are… transactional.”

Araya knew the kind he meant. She’d seen them too—formal, hollow things that bound fae females to powerful human mages they barely knew. Technically, there were safeguards in place—even Garrick had ensured she knew she had the right to reject Jaxon’s petition.

But accepting meant safety. A warm place to sleep and enough food to eat. The chance to raise your own children, instead of having them ripped from your arms.

How could any female reject that?

“Jaxon’s not like that though,” Kai said, giving her a lopsided smile. “He cares about you—you’re lucky to have him.”

Lucky . Araya had said as much herself to Serafina. So why did it feel like Kai had slapped her across the face?

“Anyway—you know that ly’ithra is a conduit,” Kai continued, oblivious. “It monitors and regulates your magic, ensuring it doesn’t overwhelm you or anyone else. Right now, the Arcanum has control over it, siphoning off any excess power before it becomes dangerous.”

Araya stared at the instruments laid out on the desk, Kai’s words barely registering as her breathing quickened and her heart pounded in her ears. Was she really doing this?

“Araya?” Kai’s voice broke through her panic, soft but steady. “Are you with me?”

“Yes,” she croaked, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

Kai reached into his kit and placed a small blank on the desk between them. “We’ll infuse this with your blood to replace Jaxon’s usual amplifier. With the bond, he’ll be able to draw power directly from you and store it, instead of relying on the Arcanum.”

Araya picked it up, examining the porous, yellowed surface. “Bone,” she said, turning it between her fingers. “One of the better amplifiers. How much blood?”

“Just a drop,” Kai reassured her. “The power comes from you—all your blood does is link your magic to the amplifier so Jaxon can draw from it.” He picked up the iron-tipped needle, pausing when she flinched. “Your runes were done at Kaldrath, right?”

Araya stiffened, but inclined her head slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Kai said, true sympathy in his eyes. “The rune work I’ve seen on fae who came from the camps is…brutal. I wish I could tell you the process is painless, but all I can do is reassure you that I’m an artist—not a butcher.”

His gaze flicked to the door as Jaxon entered the room. “It’s not uncommon to have some flashbacks during the process. Do you need some time to prepare?”

“She’ll be fine,” Jaxon said, his hands dropping heavily to her shoulders as he came to stand behind her. “Won’t you, Starling?”

Araya nodded, but her breath hitched and her body tensed instinctively as Kai took her hand, the iron needle hovering above her skin. You’re safe , she told herself. This wasn’t Kaldrath. She’d chosen this. Jaxon’s hands tightened on her shoulders, the weight grounding her. Or was he restraining her? She didn’t know anymore.

The iron needle stung, then tingled as it pricked her finger, a bright red drop of blood welling up immediately. Kai held it over the piece of fae bone, letting that drop fall onto its surface where it was immediately absorbed.

Not so bad—nowhere near the agony that haunted her nightmares.

“Perfect.” Kai handed Araya a cloth to press against her finger and passed the amulet to Jaxon. “Put that on, Jaxon. Araya—” he took her hand back, turning it so he could study the rune inked at the base of her thumb. “Don’t worry, we’ll go as fast as we can. Just stay with me.”

Araya nodded, trying to focus on the present and the soothing circles Jaxon was tracing on the back of her neck with his thumbs, but panic surged in her chest, threatening to sweep her away as Kai’s magic tugged on a thread of her soul.

“Stay with me, Raya,” her mother’s voice whispered, ragged with fear. Araya stumbled, struggling to keep up as the sharp shards of black rock shifted under her feet. Dried blood already crusted her arms from an earlier fall, and her legs shook with exhaustion, but her mother’s panic kept her moving.

“Just a little further. We’re almost safe.”

But they weren’t. The humans’ voices grew louder behind them, and then suddenly, there were soldiers everywhere. Her mother’s grip tightened. Too tight.

“She’s part human,” her mother pleaded as soldiers advanced, shoving Araya behind her. “She grew up here.”

“Breathe, Starling,” Jaxon’s voice whispered, pulling her back into the present. His hands rested heavily on her shoulders, an anchor holding her in place.

Araya flinched, her hand spasming in Kai’s grasp as the memories rushed over her. He glanced up at her, something a little too much like understanding in his gaze. Gods , was he seeing these too?—

“Gods,” the human woman shook her head in disgust. “Fae—always with the tricky answers. As if we don’t already know her father was half-fae—that makes her three-quarters. Barely human at all.”

She grabbed Araya by the chin, turning her face roughly from side to side—inspecting her. “How old is she?”

“Only seven,” Araya’s mother pleaded. “Please—she’s so young ? —”

“Young enough to forget, if we’re careful,” the woman said, releasing Araya’s chin and shoving her back into the soldier who had ripped her away from her mother’s legs. “Take them both. If the mother fights, punish the child.”

“Breathe, Starling.” Jaxon’s voice curled around her like a chain, his grip pinning her to the chair. “Breathe.” But the voice wasn’t Jaxon’s anymore. It was her mother’s?—

“Keep holding her,” Kai said, his voice strained. “This part hurts?—”

Araya’s hand spasmed. She fought to stay present, to focus on Jaxon’s arms around her and the sound of his voice in her ear. She was safe?—

Her name was Araya. Her name was Araya. She repeated it over and over, a frantic whisper as the two women pinned her to the chair, another trying to hold her head still.

“Do you want jagged tips for ears?” The woman holding the sharp, silver scissors demanded. “Hold still.”

But Araya couldn’t. She screamed as the scissors cut through her flesh, the tears running down her cheeks mixing with the blood streaming down the sides of her face.

“Almost there,” Kai’s voice cut into the memory. Araya wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself.

They’d promised they would let her mother go if she told them her name.

Rough hands pinned her to a cold, hard table, strapping her arm down with thick leather straps. “Her name is Araya,” one of the human women said to the runesmith. The man nodded, wiping blood from his iron-tipped needle.

“It’s for your own good,” the other woman said when Araya started to scream. Araya could only sob, every stab of the iron needle sending a new wave of pain through her hand, up her arm, and into her very soul.

Araya clenched her jaw, fighting to focus on the now. She was not at Kaldrath. She was not seven years old. She was twenty-eight, sitting in Jaxon’s office. She had chosen this—chosen Jaxon.

“You’re doing so well,” Jaxon murmured, whispering the words into her hair as the tug on her soul worsened, tearing at something buried deep within her. “It’s almost over, Starling.”

Araya couldn’t answer. She couldn’t hear anything over the memory of her mother’s screams and the sudden, deafening silence after the human soldier had cut her throat.

“Jaxon,” Kai gasped. “Now.”

Jaxon leaned over, pricking his finger against the needle Kai offered. A single drop of blood welled up—dark and inevitable.

It fell.

The rune on Araya’s hand flared. She cried out, screaming as the bond latched onto her like a trap snapping shut. Hands were on her, holding her down—Jaxon. Strong and reassuring, not the cold, merciless grip from her memories.

“It’s done,” Kai said finally, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

“You did so well,” Jaxon murmured, gathering her into his arms. “It’s over now.”

Araya couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but shake in Jaxon’s arms as something foreign made itself a home inside her skin. It pulsed through her veins like a second heartbeat— his heartbeat.

She shuddered, her breath catching as that foreign pulse settled in beneath her skin. She could feel him there—his power entwining itself with hers until she could no more have ripped it out than she could have cut out her own heart.

She’d chosen this, Araya reminded herself. But her magic rebelled, bucking helplessly against the chain she’d allowed them to wrap around her.

“Bucket,” Kai said.

Someone shoved a bin in her hands just as her stomach heaved, her body wracked with spasms. Araya vomited, again and again, Jaxon’s touch and murmurs of comfort a distant hum against the storm of her memories.

Finally, she had nothing left.

Someone pressed a glass of water into her hands. Araya took a tentative sip, the cool liquid soothing her throat but not the heat curling in her chest. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the present, but her skin didn’t feel like her own, the strange sensation of Jaxon’s magic entwined with hers pulsing beneath her breastbone .

“Araya,” Jaxon’s voice was softer, almost tender, but the underlying steel remained. “Look at me—you’re stronger than this. I know you are.”

“The worst of it should be over.” Kai cleared his throat. “You’ll feel… off for a while, but that’s normal.”

“Great, thank you, Kai—” Jaxon’s tone was clipped. “Can you let yourself out?”

“She should actually be observed,” Kai said, frowning. “At least for the next few hours. What she went through—it was a lot.”

“She’ll be fine,” Jaxon said, his grip tightening on her shoulders. “I can take care of my own bond, Kai.

Kai hesitated. She felt his eyes on her—sharp, searching—but she couldn’t lift her head to meet his gaze.

“She just went through hell,” Kai said. “If anything happens?—”

“If anything happens, I’ll handle it,” Jaxon reiterated, his tone final.

Araya barely heard the soft click of the door closing. Her world had narrowed to the quiet pressure of Jaxon’s thumb tracing slow, calming circles along her jaw. Soothing her.

“It’s done, Starling,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “You’re mine now. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I can walk,” Araya argued, trying to tug her arm out of Jaxon’s grip even as her legs shook.

Jaxon just snorted, half-carrying her down the hallway. He shoved open the bedroom door, lighting the aetherlamps with a flick of his wrist and bathing the luxurious room in a warm, golden glow.

“You’re burning up,” he said, his deft hands already loosening the laces of her dress and peeling the damp fabric of her chemise away from her clammy skin. Araya shivered, goosebumps racing over her skin at the sudden chill.

“I need—” her voice faltered, her gaze catching on that wide, soft bed. But Jaxon shook his head, steering her toward the bathing chamber instead.

“I know what you need, Starling.” He turned the tap, sending water rushing into the massive tub. Steam billowed up, fogging the mirrors and filling the room with the sharp, sweet scent of vanilla and spice.

“Jaxon—” Her protest came out as little more than a groan as he stripped off his own clothes and lifted her in his arms, lowering them both into the rising water.

Araya gasped as the scalding water closed around her, instinctively twisting in his grip. But Jaxon didn’t let go.

“Easy,” he said, holding her tightly against his chest. “Relax for me, Starling.”

She did, eventually. Bit by bit, her muscles loosened. Jaxon kept one arm around her as he reached for the washcloth, running it slowly over her limbs. Then he moved to her hair, unraveling the braid and combing his fingers through the damp strands until she slumped against him, too worn out to keep herself upright.

Her eyes drifted closed. Somewhere in the fog, she heard the splash of water, the shift of movement as Jaxon slid away. Clothing rustled. Then his arms were around her again, lifting her from the water.

She whimpered as the cold air hit her skin, but he didn’t pause. He dried her off, wrapped her in a thick towel, and gathered her close.

Relief surged in her chest as he carried her from the bath. The bed was only a few steps away. She didn’t care about anything else—just sinking into that softness and letting it all go.

But Jaxon didn’t lay her down.

Instead, he settled her on the edge of the bed and kept an arm around her waist, steadying her as he knelt to pull the blankets aside.

“I’m sorry, Starling,” he murmured, voice low, almost tender. “But there’s one more thing we need to do tonight. ”

“Jaxon—” Her voice broke on his name, trembling with fatigue and fear. “I can’t?—”

“This will help,” Jaxon insisted. His grip tightened on her arm, his fingers digging into her bicep hard enough to make her eyes water. “I just need to see how much you’ve been holding back. Trust me.”

Trust him . Araya opened her mouth to protest again, but the air rushed from her lungs in an agonized groan as Jaxon’s magic pulled tight inside her.

Her own magic slammed into her like a tidal wave as Jaxon pulled at her core, coaxing and commanding. She gasped, doubling over as raw power surged through her veins.

“Jaxon—” she cried, clawing desperately at his wrist. The conduit around his neck swung as he leaned over her, its glow pulsing in time with the beat of the aether in her veins as it bent to his will.

“You’re holding back.” Jaxon’s breath brushed her skin, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “Let go, Starling.”

There was no comfort in his voice, only command. Araya tried to resist, tried to hold on to herself, but his power— her power—was relentless, bucking her feeble attempts to collar it. She cried out as the last thread of restraint snapped, her aether exploding outward in a blinding rush.

This was why the Arcanum bound their magic—not to weaken them, but to save them from themselves.

It tore through her—wild and unrelenting. Her power had always been something she could guide, like a current beneath her skin. But this was a flood, and she was drowning in it, swept under by her own power.

Gods , it hurt?—

Araya clung to Jaxon’s wrist, her gaze locked on his face as she silently begged him to stop, to cut the flow—but he only laughed, his eyes wide and bright with triumph as her power surged through them both .

“Gods,” Jaxon breathed, his grip on her tightening. “Do you feel that?” He laughed, staring down at her with awe. “You have no idea how magnificent you are, Starling.”

By the time the last surge of power ebbed, Araya sagged against the pillows, black spots dancing at the edges of her vision. Jaxon climbed into the bed beside her, tucking the blankets snugly around them both before pulling her into his arms.

“You can sleep now, Starling,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me.”

Safe. Something about the word rang false, but Araya couldn’t find the energy to pull away. Her entire body ached, every shallow breath dragging like broken glass through her lungs.

“You’re right where you belong,” he murmured, tucking her closer. “And nothing will ever take you from me again.”