Page 158 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

The voices blur into a jumbled mess, and still I continue to release my power into those shadows.

Chapter 57

Ryker

I wake to Raea’s skin burning through mine—and through the shirt she’s wearing—realizing with a jolt that she’s still asleep. With all the talk about her magic, I can’t help but think she’s dreaming about it. I try to wake her, but she doesn’t respond.

I used to be able to cool her down, but this magic isn’t the same as the energy she channeled from Sgya. Still, I wrap my arms around her, frantic to keep her from burning through the sheets.

I still have little control over my own magic, but rain and wind will do less damage than her burning everything to the ground. I call upon the blue strands, visualizing a cool torrent to wash over her, but the moment the water hits her skin, the room erupts in a wall of white steam. It hisses like a thousand snakes, scalding my throat and blinding me.

“Fuck,” I hiss, waving through the hot fog. “Soraea, love, wake up!”

I pull her from the bed and lay her on the cool stone floors. She doesn’t even stir. I reach for the bridge between our souls, but I slam into a shimmering, shifting Veil. It is clear like water but as solid as diamond. It’s as if her magic has built a fortress around her mind to keep the dream from escaping—or to keep the world from getting in. I hammer against it, but the surface only ripples, cold and indifferent to my panic.

My flesh burns, and she’s almost too hot to touch. I hate the idea of hurting her, but I tap her face a little harder than normal. “Stop, Soraea. You need to wake up!”

When she still doesn’t respond, I pull on the cord of white, filling the room with a cool breeze. It’s enough to keep the room from becoming stifling, but not enough to cool her down.

I need to get her out of here. I need to get to the ocean. I stifle a groan as I heave her into my arms. The smell of singed cotton and scorched flesh fills the small room, but I don't let go. Her skin brands me, leaving white-hot welts along my forearms and chest.

My own magic surges in response, a frantic hum beneath my skin trying to knit me back together even as she unmakes me. I am a walking contradiction of fire and healing, running through the silent halls toward the scent of salt.

If I had still been human, this wouldn’t have worked despite always having quicker-than-normal healing abilities. Right now, I have a little extra time before the pain causes me to black out. I don’t stop running when I reach the gardens. It’s too close, and I need water. Water to cool her down and water to help me heal faster.

Carys had told me that water helps us regenerate our magic faster, and there’s a whole ocean of it ahead. I take the alternate route that leads to the private beach and away from the soldiers still encamped here.

By tomorrow, they should all be gone. There are only a few tents left, but once our friends return after their awakening, the soldiers will be dismissed to return to their families.

“Wake up, love. I need you to wake up, Soraea.”

I don’t have to look to know I have burns covering my arms and chest. I know she could never live with herself if she hurt anyone. She won’t be happy that she hurt me, but hopefully I can heal before she notices.

After she hurt Sienna, she had thought herself a monster. I don’t know what this would do to her, and I don’t plan to find out. With another step, my feet meet water as the rising tide pushes further in. I keep walking until I’m waist-deep and then sink below, careful to keep her head above the waves.

The ocean rises into steam around us. I let her go, instead resting her head on my chest so that the water can cool her down. She still hasn’t woken.

After an hour of holding her in the water, her magic finally ebbs. It’s terrifying how deep her magic runs. I’m terrified for anyone to find out. Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I don’t want her to be at risk, and I don’t want her to be used as a weapon.

Not by the gods. Not by kings. Not by anyone.

When the last of her magic seems to seep from her body, I cradle her to my chest, thankful that I’ve mostly healed. My skin is angry and red, but the burns and welts that covered my torso and arms are gone.

As we leave the water, she shivers and it’s not long before her eyes flutter open. “What…what are you doing?” she asks, still half asleep.

I don’t want her to worry. “Go back to sleep, Soraea. I’ve got you.”

She hums, burying her face into my neck as I wrap my arms around her, sending a warm breeze to keep her cocooned.

I nearly laugh when what sounds like a purr leaves her. Dawn is still a few hours away when I settle her back in bed, quickly cleaning up the evidence of what happened. I know I will need to talk to her about it tomorrow, but right now, she needs to sleep.

Once the shirt is in the trash and my flesh is mostly healed, I crawl into bed behind her, kissing her shoulder. Loving her has never been dangerous. The danger is what lengths I’m willing to go to keep her safe. As my eyes close, finally ready for sleep to find me again, I feel another burn on my forearm.

My eyes snap open to a low, rhythmic thrumming, like a distant drumbeat beneath my skin. On my forearm, a new rune blooms in silver fire. It glows with a fierce, lunar light, the parallel lines and hooked ends bisected by waves that move if I look too closely. I pull back the blankets to find Raea’s back shimmering in response—her gold meeting my silver.

So we’ve completed another sadistic rune trial.

How many are there?