Page 47 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

“That’s impressive.”

Ingrid glanced back at him, then looked at the nearly-empty pint of ale in his hand. “No, you’ve got it backwards.” She gestured to his drink. “Seeing all those goofy drunks makes it easier.”

“Goofy?” Dean threw his hands up dramatically.

“Yes, goofy. Reminds me what my life could’ve been if I’d never stopped.”

He broke his incredulous stare, looking out at the dancers with a glint in his eye, like the alcohol had brought out the philosopher in him.

“That’s a good way to look at it. Better yet, if you hadn’t taken that job in that bar, you probably wouldn’t have made it here. Never would’ve found your true?—”

“Nope.” Ingrid quickly stopped him. “I swear to god, Dean,” she laughed. “If you say fate, I’m going to?—”

“Home,” he said quickly. “You never would’ve found your true home.” Planting his elbows on the table, he added, “Despite everything, you’ve adapted. You’ve changed more in the last few days than I ever thought was possible. You know that, right? Can you feel it?”

Ingrid shyly turned away.

But Dean leaned further in. “Back on Earth, you had this… this energy, this magnetism. But now it’s more like an aura.

” He shook his head, suddenly self-conscious.

“Whatever it is, it brings out the best in whoever’s around you.

” He nodded to the twins as evidence. “Those two, they’d never bring it up, not with everything going on, but they suffered like hell this past month.

Especially Raidinn. But look at him now.

I barely recognize him. And that’s because of you. I’m sure of it.”

Ingrid shook her head. “You’re all just drunk.”

“Me? I’m not drunk.” Dean pushed his nearly finished drink to the very center of the table. “I only had two. Or, three if you count that one. I figured I deserved it. No?”

Ingrid only laughed.

“Alright, Ms. High and Mighty Sobriety. No more drinks. But how about a little fun?” He gestured with a coy nod to the dance floor. “Join me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on! One dance?” He reached out his hand, but she slid away on the leather of the booth until she was nearly off it. Dean followed after her, sweeping her the rest of the way with one arm, then up and over his shoulder.

“You asshole!”

“What’s that?”

“Ass… hole!”

“Sorry,” Dean laughed. “Can’t hear you up there!”

Dangling like that with her arms flailing and her backside in the air, she was slightly embarrassed and certainly angry, but once Dean put her back on her feet and put her hands in his, she was caught up in the surrounding commotion, watching the movements of the other dancers and trying to mimic them as best she could.

“Don’t watch them,” Dean said, noticing her trepidation and gripping her tightly. “Just follow my lead.”

Her eyes instinctively fluttered to his feet, but with a gentle nudge of her chin, he brought her gaze back up.

He told her to relax her shoulders and hips.

The violins had descended into a series of somewhat somber notes, and at the slow pace, Dean led in such a way that she didn’t have to think about where her feet should go next.

At ease, and happy to be among the Viator she’d been admiring just minutes before.

“Could you see yourself here?” Dean asked, chin hovering just over her head. The warmth of his breath carried a slight scent of the ale, but Ingrid didn’t mind it as much as she usually did.

“In Ealis?” she asked. “Or right here?”

“Here in Maradenn,” he said softly.

She nodded, thinking about those lovely townhomes she’d seen on the outskirts of the city, with the lush gardens, the livestock roaming around their backyards. It was a soothing thought, until the implication of what Dean had said hit her.

“I’m not staying behind here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dean drew his head back to meet her eyes. “No, that’s not what I’m asking. I mean, I thought about it but?—”

“Of course you did,” she interrupted. “Leave the damsel back in the castle, right?”

“That’s one way to put it. I won’t lie to you, Ingrid.

I’m terrified of putting you at risk.” He didn’t break eye contact.

“But when I thought about leaving you behind, I couldn’t stand it.

I couldn’t stomach being away from you. Every moment apart would be torture.

Every waking moment, I’d be wondering if you were safe.

If the people I trusted to protect you were doing their job. Just, torture.”

Ingrid flushed, tucking her head close to his shoulder but not fully resting on it. “That’s very sweet,” she said lowly. “But, let’s not forget, being around me twenty-four-seven would be torture too.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, forcing the grin forming on his lips to stay put. “I’d thought about that, too.”

“Exactly.” She adopted a whiny, exaggerated voice meant to mock herself. “What’s this place called again, Dean? What is that smell, Dean? Does this flower do anything cool, Dean? What are those tattoos, Dean? Do a lot of Viator have tattoos?” She cringed at the memories.

“To be fair,” Dean said. “I thought that last one was very important.”

“What, the tattoos?”

It was a short conversation, glossed over when they’d first walked into the tavern.

One of the couples sitting near their table had small but intricate markings on the tops of their foreheads, just below the hairline.

They were like vines found in the forests of Ealis, with microscopic symbols woven in so discreetly you might miss them if you didn’t know what to look for.

Ingrid had noticed them immediately, however.

“You didn’t give me a full answer, by the way,” Ingrid pouted. “I figured Viator couldn’t get tattoos.”

Dean reached for the leather collar of her vest, asking permission with his eyes, then lowering it slightly to get a good look at the ghastly face tattooed over the center of her throat. “You’ve had these for how long?”

“As long as I’ve been sober,” Ingrid said, thinking back.

“It’s possible your skin absorbed them. They don’t look like they’re fading. But they still might.” He noticed her dismay and added, “Tattoos here are done with viseer stone-shavings and open flame. So you can always get new ones?”

“I wouldn’t want to replace them,” Ingrid sighed. “It’s not about the tattoos, really, it’s about the memory. What they meant to me back then.”

Dean squeezed her hand in response, shifting to their left to get a better look at the couple they’d seen when walking in.

They were a stunning pair, unworried and tranquil in their youth.

One had fiery red hair, braided down the middle and stretching to her back.

And the other was dark featured, short curly black locks framing her cherub visage, parted just enough to show off the tattoos.

“Those specific tattoos,” Dean said. “They’re marriage marks. Viator bonding themselves in eternal matrimony.”

Ingrid came to a stop. Whether it was simply culture shock or the first sign of an approaching vision, she couldn’t help the emotion surging through her. She arched backward to take in the tattooed pair of females once more.

“That’s what they call it?” she asked. “Eternal matrimony?”

Dean nodded. “Yes… and?” His smirk was punctuated by a devilish beam in his eyes.

“I was just saying,” Ingrid scoffed, trying to hide how affected she was. “There’s not like, a more informal term? Like hitched or something? Eternal seems so dramatic.”

“Right.” Dean choked back a laugh. “You were just saying.”

“And don’t get it twisted.” She rounded her face in front of his. “Now, please, go on.”

Dean pinched his eyebrows in an animated, mocking way, like he was thinking. “I don’t remember what I was saying.”

Ingrid didn’t fall for it. “The markings!”

“The what now?”

“The marriage bonds!”

“No, no.” Dean made his mouth a small circle, goading her. “Say the actual term.”

“Why?”

“I liked how it sounded coming out of your mouth.”

Ingrid was annoyed, but not nearly enough to keep her from doing as he’d asked. She liked this side of him. The perfect blend of the seriousness he showed when in the presence of everyone else, and the whimsy he seemed to reserve just for her.

He watched her closely, then, as her lips parted, Dean focused intently on the motions of her mouth.

“Eternal matrimony,” Ingrid said begrudgingly.

“There it is.” Dean hummed, satisfied. “That was even better the second time. Right, so, as I was saying. Those markings.” He nodded to the couple again.

“They’re from the sacred texts. The Book of Pax, made up of accounts from followers and advisors of Queen Izadora.

The symbols bond the couple together with old magic, creating a direct line from one soul to the other.

Meaning they can hear each other’s thoughts. ”

Ingrid balked at that. “Really? I don’t think anyone would want a direct line to my thoughts. Most of the time, I don’t even want to be in there.”

Dean smiled. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Ingrid shot back, pressing a finger into her temple. “I bet you couldn’t last a single night inside here.”

“So the weddings off?” Dean asked.

“Definitely.”

He held up his hand, pleading. “But I didn’t tell you the best part yet. A marked couple can communicate between worlds. Give and take power when needed. And most importantly, the markings ensure the two will find each other in the afterlife.”

Ingrid fought the wonder at that, stifling another rush of empathic emotion.

“It’s… it’s beautiful.” The commitment. The outright and absolute dedication to sharing every ounce of oneself.

To essentially break off a piece of one’s mind and soul and gift it to their spouse.

It was terrifying, perhaps a little self-destructive, but?—

She couldn’t finish the thought.

Suddenly, something clicked into place. She looked back at her table, at her friends.

At Callinora. She remembered what the princess had said about Queen Enitha of the Isles, how she’d poisoned her husband Arryn into believing he wanted to be there.

Miles and miles away from his eternally bonded partner.

“Did Queen Enitha break their bond?” Ingrid asked succinctly. “Can she do that?”

“She can only influence someone to break their own bond,” Dean said.

“I’ve never heard of anyone powerful enough to break another’s marriage mark.

” He shivered slightly, thinking about the process.

“Arryn must’ve done it himself. Think of it like cutting out your own heart and cauterizing the chest cavity yourself.

Then having to do that every day for the rest of your life. That’s how painful it’s said to be.”

“Did Callinora feel it too, then?”

Dean blinked slowly. “If one half breaks, the other vanishes too. And in the same agonizing way.”

Ingrid’s breath caught. “Oh,” she said in a haunting whisper. “That explains… well, the way she is.”

“The king, too,” Dean added. “If you’re marked by the matrimonial rite, and your spouse dies, it’s like being emptied out internally. His crown was hiding his bond. It remains after death, but you can never fill the void. Not until you join your other half in the spirit realm.”

“How awful,” Ingrid said, conflicted. “Do they all go through the ritual? Do they recognize the marriage if—shit, sorry. I’m doing it again. The barrage of questions.” She put her hand over her mouth, but Dean quickly removed it, placing it back on his shoulder.

“There’s no other recognized form of union in Ealis,” he said. “It’s that, or courting. That’s why you’ll find a lot more unmarked Viator than marked ones. It’s forever, not just in words but in flesh. The pain of separation never leaves you. Never ceases. Never sleeps.”

Never.

The word seeped into her. And all at once, Ingrid could feel a fragment of what the bond might feel like. Her heart breaking itself in two, then mending back together with the help of another’s. It was more than pain. It was a splitting of one’s soul.

The pain of it thundered within her.

Her blood slammed against her veins.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Looking to Dean with her eyes wide was her only way to communicate.

“Okay,” he said calmly, holding her tight. “Don’t fight it. Let it in, and it will pass.”

He didn’t panic, didn’t ask what was wrong, he only held her. Brought her head into his chest and stroked her hair. Somehow, he’d known right away what was happening.

“Focus on one thing at a time,” he said soothingly. “One breath, just one. Let it in, then let it fade.”

He moved his hand to her back, drawing circles with his fingers.

"I’m just going to keep talking, okay? Distracting you,” he went on. “You’ll be getting these spells more often now.”

Ingrid looked up to him, jaw clenched, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

Dean seemed to shrink at the sight. “It’s okay.

This happens to be one of the few things Karis did tell me about.

Growing up, he’d have episodes whenever he heard about something—anything that could be considered important to the workings of this world.

It’s just your power rooting itself in Ealis.

Getting familiar. After a while, you won’t have them anymore.

” He paused, shaking his head. “Fuck. I should’ve known talking about the bond would tap you into the feeling. I’m so sorry.”

Ingrid did her best to relax her body, unclenching her jaw, letting herself go completely limp in Dean’s arms. She closed her eyes and did as Dean told her to do.

She let it in. Let it in and let it fade away, submitting herself to the ripples of unrelenting magic coursing through her, until it was gone.

“Is it over?” Dean looked deep into her eyes, anger and shame still painting his cheeks red. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you this would happen. I didn’t—fuck. How could I forget?”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Ingrid did her best to hide the lingering pain as it subsided. “Don’t beat yourself up. There’s so much to remember.” She smiled up at him. “Why do you think I ask so many damn questions?”