Page 44 of Where We Belong

“Sorry, the meeting ran over. But I meant what I said before, he’s not what he seems, Eira. You must be more careful,” a desperate familiar voice.

“You’re so paranoid. I’ve known him my whole life,” she snaps. “We could be fucking right now, but instead we’re here arguing about your psychotic theories.”

My stomach twists. I probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping on my friends, but I crouch lower behind the bush anyway, wincing as my thighs burn from yesterday’s squats.

“Firstly,” Nyk says, “believe it or not, I have feelings, so watch your tone with me like I do with you. Secondly—”

“I know you have feelings.” Eira hisses. “For me, apparently. And you’re letting them get in the way. That’s all this is. Get over it and stop being so damn jealous, I’m so sick of jealous males.”

“Of course I’m jealous.” Somehow, even pissed off, he’s got the kind of tone that belongs in a bedtime story. “But, more than that, I feel sad for you. You chain yourself to your guilt. How will you ever build a future when it consumes you so?”

“Excuse me?” She nearly shouts before catching herself. “You have no right to talk to me about guilt. Clearly, you don’t know what it’s like to live with something like this. You’re not even capable of feeling it. Have you told Ashley yet? That Kaed kissed her and the bond is already ignited? Have you told the King? No. You haven’t. Do you feel guilty about that, Nykholas?”

My hand flies to my mouth.

“Have you told Aiden?”

“That’s your fucking response?” She spits. “I gave you time to tell her, that time’s nearly up. If you don’t tell her soon, I will. She’s my friend, and I hate that you’ve put me in this position.” Well, at least I have one person in this god-forsaken place looking out for me.

“Eira—!” But her footsteps are already crunching sharply over gravel as they fade into the dark.

“Your friend might be oblivious to what’s right in front of her. But I’m not.” Shit. Heat creeps up my neck as I peer out at him from behind my little hiding place. He tilts his head slightly. His white waves almost glowing in the night.

“Will you let me explain?”

He holds out an arm for me to take but I walk straight past him, jaw clenched, trying to find my bearings. Once again, I’m reminded that I am a key. A pawn. That my whole life is a fucking game to these people.

He catches my front door before it slams on him and closes it quietly. “You died when your head hit the wall during the rescue,” he says. “As the haze started wearing off, he kissed you in an attempt to bring you back.”

With my back to him, I close my eyes, sifting through my memories of that moment. Vague images of my dad reaching for me and the feeling of complete and utter peace engulf me. Does any part of my fucking life, my body, belong to me?

“Right then,” he goes on, “I made a decision, as acting Captain, not to tell you right away. I didn’t want to overwhelm you. And coming back from the dead, there can be complications.”

“Fuck your complications.” My voice trembles, mirroring the shaking in my lip. “The bond is ignited, and you all knew?”

“Yes. But it brings no harm to you. The effect is solely on his side, and he is paying for what he did, trust me.”

I huff, stalking towards him. “No harm to me? Not only was I kissed against my will, Nyk. Pulled from the peace of death to suffer and die again. I am now bound to someone for the rest of my life.”

“And I am sure that is a conversation you can have with Kae. But I must ask you, let me be the one to tell the King when I judge it right,” he says. “Let it stay between us, for now.”

“Why?” I demand. “Convince me.”

“Well,” he rubs the back of his neck, ‘firstly, you died as a result of my actions, and I don’t want your brother finding out. For various reasons. Though mainly, it’s for your own safety. The territory leaders, even fae in the palace, knowing you are halfway to the bond could reignite unrest. It could be used to nullify the treaty, which was only completed yesterday. They might say your uncle was withholding information again.” Another civil war. I watched them come out of the war room with Eira. The Cinder Cliffs leaders looked like a bunch of kid librarians, and the Ashen Reach ones like they escaped from a carnival fair. When she told me those two had a powerful alliance, I nearly choked. I couldn’t imagine either group taking the other seriously. I felt a wave of anger towards the Cinder leaders. They could have just released the information of the ritual and stopped it all from happening, but they refused, for what? So they could be the cleverest and the smartest? And now, they want me to come and get the information myself? I don’t know what the hesitation is; I don’t know if it’s solely anger. I can’t imagine knowing I can help someone but flat-out refusing to. Though images of the security guard I set on fire run through my mind. But that’s different. Right?

“I need to think about it.” I stare at the floor. There’s no excuse not to tell me. None at all. I’ve spent so much time with them over the last couple of months; there were countless opportunities. If they didn’t want me to share that information with the King yet, then I don’t think I would have. I thought we were building trust. Friendship. Clearly, I was wrong.

“I understand. Know that I truly am sorry.” He thumps his chest and bows. The door closes silently behind him. I pace my god-forsaken bungalow that smells like fresh sheets and betrayal, trying to make sense of this feeling. My lifeless body was kissed. Yes, I was brought back to life, but did it have to be a secret? The bond is ignited, and I had no say in how or when it began. It makes my skin crawl. Nyk is sorry, as he should be, but sorry doesn’t put the choice back in my hands. I sink into my desk chair and think about the butterflies I feel in training. When Kaed tackles me to the ground or scoops me up to throw me into the air, teaching me how to land. Is it all because of this bond? How do I know where that ends and my heart begins? How do I know if his kindness, his gentleness, is because he thinks I deserve it? Eventually, exhaustion wins, and I lay my head on my arms and fall asleep at my desk, replaying every single interaction between us. Every late-night conversation on my bungalow stairs, every time he could have told me he took something from me and didn’t.

Chapter 42

Ashley

so, I tempered myself and practiced restraint,

and trod the valley of growth.

That fucking fire bat. I’m so pissed off. After shoving on my boots I march to his stupid bungalow, muttering under my breath. If I ever do become Queen, he will be the first person I pull rank on. The thought of him on his knees before me, begging for mercy, sparks something wicked in me. Damn it. By the time I reach his door, my anger is a roaring blaze. I raise my hand to pound on it, but it swings open. Oh. The angry whispered speech I had rehearsed in the mirror this morning has completely left my mind. He leans lazily against the doorframe. Shirtless. My stomach drops. My brain glitches. His shoulders are flecked with scars, dips, and grooves that ripple down his arms and chest. Tattoos that look like thick black slices from some feral fight with wild, inky, clawed beasts mark his skin. Stretching across his chest and down his torso in chaotic, mesmerising lines. I try to focus, but I lose count of his ab muscles. My eyes keep travelling lower, to the bold V-shape that disappears into his black trousers, teasing the waistband of his underwear that sits just a tiny bit too low. I wonder where the tattoos stop. And ah, I’m staring. When my eyes dart back up to his, he gives me the most infuriatingly smug wink and my chest burns with rage all over again. He kissed you, remember he kissed you. You’re pissed off and bound to him for eternity! Autonomy Ashley! Rise bitch!