Page 144 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

“Ah!” Tate snaps his fingers, gesturing between us. “Do you two need a room?”

A blush floods my entire body as I curse at the ceiling. Okay, so we know we’re capable of sending very inappropriate memories through our Bond. While I have a million more thoughts and questions about what else we can do, now is not the time.

Ryker picks my chair up, not bothering to hide the wink he shoots me before he pulls out the chair on my other side, dropping into it.

Ignoring the conversation at hand, blessedly, he changes the subject. While Ryker does love to remind everyone that I’m his, he’s also not one to share. If anyone were to speak of us being intimate again, he’d probably not so kindly remind them to back off.

“The awakening,” he starts. “Riven said you all need to be prepared. Tonight we will have dinner with the Fae king, but tomorrow—” He clucks his tongue and leans back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee as he takes my hand and interlaces our fingers.

I know we need to tell them, but how exactly do we tell our friends that what they’re so willing to submit to is the most agonizing pain they’ll ever experience?

They might have followed us, might be willing to join us, but they don’t know. Ryker swipes a hand through his hair, the movement so familiar, emotion lodges in my throat. He responds with a squeeze of my hand. “You need to be prepared and fully understand. There’s time to say no.”

“I’m in,” Tate says, not bothering to look at us as he leans back in his chair, inspecting his coffee before downing it. He wipes his mouth before he adds, “I don’t care about the how.” His gaze lifts as he looks between us. “You two get to have all the fun, and I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines. So yeah, sign me up.”

“Holy gods,” Trysten mutters, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t think they’re having fun knowing that everyone’s lives quite literally depend on them. Mostly her.”

Tate’s chair tips backward as he leans back, far too pleased with himself. “So…” He grins. “Was I right? The mind-chatting. Pretty obvious. Were you two talking dirty to each other? Because Soraea looked like she was about to⁠—”

“Gods.”

“Tate, stop.”

“Tate!”

Laughter ripples down the table as Tate whoops like he’s won a prize none of us wanted to compete for.

With slow, effortless grace, Ryker hooks his boot around the leg of Tate’s chair and gives it a sharp tug. Tate hits the floor with a dull thud. Ryker leans back beside me, draping an arm over my chair like nothing happened. Silver frost swirls through his sapphire eyes, the temperature in the room dropping with it.

“Tate,” he says quietly. The word lands heavier than a shout. “Shut your godsdamn mouth and listen.”

Tate scrambles upright, all color draining from his face.

Ryker lets the silence stretch. “This isn’t a promotion,” he says, his voice rough and unforgiving. "It’s a massacre of who you are now. You will feel your bones snap and your old life burn away before the first spark of magic takes hold. If you’re at this table for the power, leave. If you’re here because you’d rather die than let her stand alone, then stay.”

The wind slides over my skin, carrying the pulse of the forest with it. Every snap of a branch, every distant call, resonates inside me. I move easily now, my body stronger than it ever was before, filled with a quiet, humming power. I can feel my magic, like it’s feeding off my joy, not just my fear. It feels like a companion.

As I run through the forest, I follow Finn, leaping over logs and swinging over low branches. He only grins when he looks back before running even faster. Despite my short legs, I’m able to keep up to some degree—though I know he’s holding back.

After breakfast, he stole me away to “show me what being Elven is”. Apparently, it’s running through the forest with smiles on our faces and what feels like an endless well of energy.

He pauses when we come to a cliff edge and throws his arms over his head, whooping into the sky. His long, wavy hair falls to his waist when he leans back, the beads clinking softly. I stop beside him, panting but happy.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs. When I raise a brow, he huffs. “Instruction time. Trust me, your mate is terrifying. I’d never put you in harm's way.”

I snort as my lids fall closed.

Ryker had threatened him within an inch of his life until Finn had promised to bring me back unharmed. Honestly, with the way he had acted, I’m surprised he let me out of his sight.

The moment we had left the cavern, his voice didn't just fade—it severed. One moment, he was a warm hum against my thoughts, the next, there was only a cold, ringing silence. It felt like walking out of a warm room into a blizzard. I stumbled, my hand instinctively flying to my chest, searching for the tether that has been my only constant since the change.

He called me Aenai—the breath of his soul—and now I understand why. Without him, it feels harder to breathe. The bridge between us is still there, but something feels off-balance without his presence on the other side.

Finn steps away from me, circling me. “Tell me what you hear.”

I allow all my other senses to fade, and put all my focus into listening. I gasp when I realize I can hear way more than I thought. I can hear the chittering of a squirrel somewhere behind us. There’s the flap of a bird’s wings high above us. Finn’s heartbeat is steady. The soft rustling of leaves and the swinging of an axe. It’s faint, but there.

When I open my eyes, I find Finn smiling. “Over the next week, we will be training your new senses. It’s like a dial. You can give a hundred percent to one, and drown out the rest, or dial them all. During war, this will need to be second nature, and you’ll never want any of them turned off. You’ll need to sense footsteps behind you or see the vibration of the ground. You should be able to feel the shift in the air when you brush against magic. These senses will keep you alive.”