Page 21 of The Sin Binder’s Chains (The Seven Sins Academy #2)

I think we’ve fought every imaginable creature in this gods-forsaken place today.

Twice.

The Void doesn’t believe in rest. It doesn’t believe in exhaustion. It only believes in taking. In wearing us down one fight at a time, stretching out every battle until it becomes too much, until muscles give, magic flickers, and instincts slip.

And I feel it.

Every part of me is worn thin, my body leaden, my mind drifting between wakefulness and something dangerously close to collapse.

If it weren’t for Elias, I wouldn’t be on this horse at all.

Not that he seems to mind.

"You know," Elias muses, adjusting his grip on me, "for someone who usually fights like a pissed-off hellcat, you make a very convincing damsel in distress."

I make a noise against his neck that is neither a protest nor an agreement, just sound.

Elias exhales dramatically, like this is some massive inconvenience for him and not just another excuse to talk. "It’s fine. This is fine. Carrying you is my burden to bear. My curse. My cross to carry, if you will. You’re my sin, Luna."

I don’t even have the energy to groan. "Please shut up."

"Absolutely not." He shifts slightly, adjusting me so I don’t slide off entirely. "Besides, if you pass out, who will hear the greatest story ever told?"

"If you tell me about the time you allegedly seduced a siren, I swear to the gods.. "

"First of all," he interrupts, "I did not seduce her. It was mutual seduction. And secondly, no, this story is way better."

I mumble something that might be "fine" or "kill me now."

He takes it as permission.

"So," Elias begins, "Caspian has always been painfully hard to mess with, which is a crime, honestly. No fun. Always sees it coming. So naturally, Silas and I made it our life’s work to change that."

He pauses dramatically, then drops his voice lower, as if telling me a great, dark secret. "And we finally found his weakness."

I blink blearily against his throat. "…Which was?"

"Horses."

That startles a weak, breathless laugh from me. "Horses?"

"Not in general," Elias clarifies, grinning. "Just one horse. A specific horse. We called her Widowmaker. Meanest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Hated Caspian specifically. Didn’t mind anyone else. Just him. We still don’t know why.

Maybe she sensed the angst. Maybe she was sent by the gods to humble him. We may never know."

I shake my head, already regretting engaging. "Elias. "

"Anyway," he barrels on, "Silas and I had a brilliant idea. Caspian was due for a hunt, right? And we thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be hilarious if the only horse available to him was Widowmaker?’"

I snort. "No."

"Yes," Elias says gleefully. "So we swapped the horses the night before. Moved his actual one just out of sight. Widowmaker was saddled, ready to go. Caspian didn't notice until it was too late."

"What happened?"

"Ah, well, see, that’s the best part." He leans in conspiratorially, like we’re sharing some great, terrible sin. "Widowmaker let him get on. No issues. Perfectly docile. Which should have been the first red flag, honestly."

"And?"

"And then she waited until they were well into the woods before she absolutely lost her fucking mind." Elias laughs, deep and unrepentant. "Flipped completely. Took off full speed, nearly threw him into a ravine, then made a beeline straight for the nearest river."

I make a choked sound, pressing my forehead harder against his shoulder. "No."

"Yes." He’s delighted. "And to make it worse, Widowmaker stopped right before she got to the water and just launched him. Straight in. No hesitation. Like she’d been waiting for that moment her whole life."

I can’t stop laughing, weak as it is. "Oh my gods."

"Best part?" Elias says, still grinning. "She just left him there. Went trotting back like nothing happened. He had to walk the whole way back. Soaked. Furious. Genuinely contemplating murder."

I shake my head. "I can’t believe you two lived to tell that story."

"We didn’t." Elias sighs, overly dramatic. "I’m a ghost now, Luna. A tragic, beautiful specter, haunting the world with my unfinished business."

"What business?"

"Mostly pissing off Caspian."

I close my eyes, letting myself sink against him, warmth creeping into my exhaustion.

Elias hasn’t said anything cringeworthy in an hour.

It might be a record.

Or maybe I’m too exhausted to notice.

Either way, I don’t mind him right now. Which is saying something.

I should be thinking about the creatures we fought. The way the Rift bent around us like it was alive, like it was reacting to me. I should be planning, calculating what Severin’s next move will be now that he knows we’re here.

But I’m not.

I’m here.

Pressed against Elias, tucked against him like I belong there, my body too heavy to move, his arms keeping me upright with a kind of effortless ease, like I weigh nothing, like holding me is natural.

Like he doesn’t notice.

Which is rare for him.

Normally, he’d be running his mouth. Some awful line, some ridiculous attempt at flirting that’s less ‘charming rogue’ and more ‘local disaster.’ But he’s quiet now, his body loose in the saddle, one hand holding the reins, the other firm around my waist, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of my coat like he forgot he was touching me at all.

And maybe that’s why I don’t move away.

Because for once, it’s easy.

Easy to sit here, easy to listen to his voice, easy to let the exhaustion settle into my bones without trying to shake it off.

Elias is easy.

Not like Silas.

Silas is comfortable. Elias is… something else. A weight I don’t mind bearing, a presence that makes everything feel less heavy when it should be suffocating.

I shift slightly, pressing my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of leather and something distinctly his, something warm and sharp at the same time.

Still, nothing.

No comment. No smug remark.

I’m almost impressed.

I feel the exact moment it hits him, the way his body locks up, his breathing stalling like he just realized he’s holding me. Like he just noticed I’m this close, practically curled into him, my breath against his throat.

His grip on my waist tightens.

A slow inhale.

A pause.

"Soooo..."

Oh no.

"Would this be a bad time to ask if you’re in love with me?"

I make a noise. It might be a groan. Might be a suffering sound only gods can understand.

He grins.

I can feel it.

"I mean, it’s fine if you are," he continues, leaning ever so slightly toward me, like he’s soaking this in, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to ruin the moment. "I just think we should probably talk about it now before it gets weird."

I exhale sharply against his neck, debating whether it’s worth spending the last of my energy to punch him off this horse. "Elias."

"No, no, it’s okay," he interrupts. "This is a safe space. You can tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"That you’ve secretly been in love with me this entire time, but were too afraid to admit it. It happens. I get it."

I huff out a laugh. "Elias."

"Yes, darling?"

"Shut up."

He does not.

But he does laugh, warm and rich, pleased with himself in a way that makes me roll my eyes but doesn’t make me move away.

I don’t need easy.

But right now, I don’t mind it.

He begins listing off all the reasons he’s allegedly lovable. It’s been five minutes.

"I’m just saying," he says, shifting slightly to adjust his hold on me, "if you really think about it, I have the full package."

"Oh gods."

"No, no, hear me out." He clears his throat, his voice dropping into that tone, the one that means he’s about to say something awful. "First of all, I’m handsome. Objectively."

"Debatable."

"Rude," he says, offended. "But fine. Let’s go deeper. My personality? Immaculate. Witty. Fun. A little dangerous. The perfect mix. Like if a scoundrel and a poet had a beautiful, irresponsible love child."

"I hate everything about this conversation."

"I’m thoughtful," he continues, undeterred. "I mean, look at me. Carrying you. Keeping you warm. Sacrificing my personal space so you don’t fall off this horse and die. Heroic, really."

"Heroic." I repeat flatly.

"Exactly."

I sigh. "You forgot humble."

"Ah, yes." He nods. "Humble. Painfully humble. Tragically so, even. A true burden I must bear."

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head against his shoulder. "I can’t believe you’ve thought about this."

"Luna." He leans in slightly, voice dropping to something conspiratorial. "I’ve memorized this."

"Of course you have."

"It’s important to know your worth."

I sigh, letting my eyes drift shut for a moment. "Please tell me you’re done."

He tilts his head, considering. "I haven’t even gotten to my best qualities."

"Elias."

"Like my loyalty."

That makes me pause.

Because despite the absolute mess that is Elias, even though he just compared himself to a dangerously attractive poet-scoundrel hybrid, he’s right about that one.

He might joke. Might deflect. Might make everything seem like it doesn’t matter.

But when it does, when it matters, Elias stays.

And that’s not something I can ignore.

He must sense the shift in my silence, because instead of filling it, he just… breathes.

His fingers tighten slightly where he holds me upright, not teasing for once, not trying to ruin the moment.

I exhale slowly, my body relaxing deeper against him, feeling the way his does the same.

And for once, he doesn’t ruin it.

"Also," he says suddenly, "my hair is fantastic." And now he hasn’t shut up about his “fantastic” hair.

I didn’t even mean to start this conversation. I made one tiny mistake, and now I’m trapped.

"So," I murmur, still pressed against him, my voice thick with exhaustion, "why is your hair gray?"

Silence.

Absolute silence.

For once in his loud, obnoxious, never-ending existence, Elias doesn’t have something to say.

I blink up at him, my cheek still resting against his shoulder, and realize he looks... offended.

Genuinely.