Chapter 5

Jerika clutched her borrowed cloak tighter, grimacing at the sharp pain that simple movement caused. She hated feeling so weak and helpless but at least she was free, no nagging burn at her back reminding her of orders she hated but had no choice but to follow. 

Freedom, as it happened, was bittersweet. She had no home to return to, no family she could trust. Yes she was free to make her own choices now, but those choices were severely limited. Did that even still count as freedom? For now the only real choice she had was whether to remain in the company of the young and untried storm mage or to take her chances on her own, drawing on every dirty trick she had learned over the years to stay alive.

Perhaps it was her fear, her vulnerability, talking but she didn’t want to be alone right now. She had spent years building her tolerance to the pain of the binding sigils simply so she could spend time alone either before or after an assignment, but now… Now, she longed for company, for friends, for people who would not use and abuse her for their own purpose. 

She had known the young lord less than a day, but she could sense his character. While seemingly callous and self serving, detached from emotion and ethics, there was something about him that just screamed trustworthiness. 

“Do you need to stop for a bit?”

His smooth tenor voice jolted her from her thoughts and shook her head automatically, “I’m good. We should keep moving.”

His gray green eyes followed her as she stalked past him and into the crossroads, studying her, watching for weakness. A hand on her arm halted her progress.

“You don’t have to pretend to be okay, you know? I know exactly how much getting rid of the binding took out of you. Blood loss alone would leave you weakened, fatigued, but there’s also the aftereffects of my power. There’s a reason people don’t generally set out on journeys mere hours after being electrocuted. I know we are running for our lives here, but… We can take a minute or two.”

Rika allowed herself to actually focus on how she felt and admitted that, yes, she could use the break. Her back and sides were still tender, the cloak rubbing against the raw skin with every step she took, and she was no stranger to anemia, she could feel the sluggishness caused by the blood loss, as well. 

“Very well. But only for a few minutes.”

They retreated from the road, out of sight of the crossroads and into the shade. There, she lowered herself to the ground, grudgingly accepting Fyr’s help, if only to avoid more well meaning scolding. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief. Now that her mind wasn’t consumed with keeping her body moving, she found she wanted to know more about her companion. Curiosity was a dangerous thing but she couldn’t help but wonder.

“So a young lord with storm magic? I assume since I was sent after you that the family didn’t take it well?”

Fyr snorted, “They didn’t know. Not when I ran. The only one who knew was a maid, Corsha.”

“Corsha… I think- I knew a girl whose cousin was a maid for some noble family. If I recall correctly, they lived together and were practically sisters. The maid's name was definitely Corsha; Analie used to cry for her at night.”

Fyr scooted closer, interested, “A mage?”

“Yes, a blood mage. A powerful one, specializing in healing. She had apparently dabbled in it once or twice, not even really realizing what she was doing. Her family sold her while her cousin was supposed to be at work to minimize the scandal, but… She told me Corsha came back and clawed a man’s face to ribbons when she saw her being dragged away. Corsha was beaten and Analie was told Corsha was dead.”

“I doubt Corsha would’ve tattled on me, not after that. Assassin isn’t Father’s style and I’d like to believe mother would’ve kept the secret had she known. That leaves my brother…”

Jerika watched in awe and no small amount of fear as the wind picked up and tiny blue sparks began flickering around Fyr’s hands. She quickly grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers, the act of a close friend, not the virtual stranger she was. 

The contact had the intended result and he calmed, his power slowly calming with him. When his eyes opened they were full of surprise and gratitude. 

“Thanks.”

Rika squeezed his fingers, “Magic is tied to one’s emotions. It is very easy to lose control, particularly among the young and untried. You must learn to separate your emotion from your actions, to slow down and think before setting the power loose. Not only is it dangerous for such a power as yours to be so quick to react, but if a storm blows up every time you get angry, we'll be absurdly easy to track.”

Fyron sighed and released her hand, “I know. I’ve never been the most emotional person but lately…”

“Lately it seems that every tiny thing sets you off?”

He looked at her, surprised, “Yes. How-?”

“I was the same. It seemed that everything in my life was destined for ruin. Everything I’d ever wanted, taken from me one by one. It began when my parents sold me to a shadow house. Then when I finally became somewhat used to my place there, things changed again. I won’t tell you all the disturbing details but I will tell you this: hope is a dangerous thing. The more you hope for, the more you can have taken from you.”

When he grew quiet, she allowed her thoughts to drift to everything that had been taken from her. She no longer felt anger, or sadness when she thought of them, only a profound emptiness. 

It wasn’t just the betrayal of her parents selling her, or the squalor she had been forced to live in after that. It wasn’t the pain she had endured or the despicable acts she had been forced to commit, no. It was the loss of a chance at love that had pained her the most. More than riches, or power, or safety, or comfort, love was what she had longed for all her life.

At one time, she thought she had actually loved Vekir Feol. She had saved his life and  willingly followed his orders, accepted his marks and thought them a sign of his returned affection. When he had dragged a knife across her skin and lapped at the blood, kissing his way up her body, when he had pressed his mark into her broken skin and had his mages heal her, displaying such care, she had thought it love. She had been naive and disastrously foolish. That was not love, that was possession.

Now she knew he had an adoring wife and legitimate children and his mages were naught but bought and paid for tools. Every kiss and caress, every act of kindness, was nothing more than currency, buying those tools’ loyalty and obedience. Once she had found out the truth, she had wondered if the pious and ever faithful wife knew of his dark secrets.

Rika had come to the conclusion that the woman must be just as naive and foolish as she herself had been, for if she knew of his actions and still welcomed him into her bed, her body, still cared for his home, still raised his children in the Weaver’s way… Jerika couldn’t even imagine the callousness, the cold detachment, the impeccable duplicity that would require. 

Love. Such a fragile thing to set one’s hopes on. 

Fyr gained his feet beside her and helped her to her own feet, “We should get back at it.”

She glanced over her shoulder instinctively, expecting to see one of Feol’s other mage killers standing there. Though she saw nothing but grass and trees, the thrill of fear did not dissipate. 

“Yes we should. And we’ll need to pick up the pace. They’ll likely be on horseback. Fyr, leave the past behind. Focus only on the present for now.”

“What of the future? Ignore it?”

Rika shook her head, “When we can stop somewhere safe we can shift focus to planning for the future. For now, present. One step at a time.”

He dug out the map and pointed toward the crossroads and down the left fork of the road, “From here we turn south and the village should be two hours further.”

She could not help but find it fitting that their brief conversation about the past and the future had occurred at the crossroads. What better place to consciously choose to leave the past behind? 

He held out a hand for her, seemingly comfortable with that level of contact now, for which she was grateful. Their connection would allow them to steady each other and match their paces. She slid her hand into his and smiled shakily.

“Onward toward the future?” he asked with a smirk.

A huff of amusement escaped her and she marveled at it, uncertain of the last time she had actually felt so light, “Sure. Toward the future.”