Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

23. Metal Springs

Chapter 23

Metal Springs

THALIA

I sprung awake, the cot rumbling with force as my hands gripped the white sheet rigorously. Pure adrenaline raced through me, coating my heart in tight compressions.

“I told you this was a terrible idea!”

“Shut up. She’s fine,” a familiar voice rumbled back.

“Does she look fine to you?” the voice whispered faintly. Her voice trembled slightly as she responded.

“She’ll be okay,” Ivan said, brushing off her alarm.

Cold hands peeled my fingers from the sheets, squeezing them lightly. “It’ll subside in a minute.”

My breathing heightened, and my eyes squinted to block the excess light. My heart pumped at twice its speed, threatening to sputter at the drop of a pin.

As if a door slammed shut, the adrenaline ceased. Long gulps of air filled my lungs, caressing my heart to its normal tempo.

I focused on the cold hands, their compression squeezes blocking the ringing in my ears as they dulled to a low hum. I drank in the chaotic environment. Cots littered the large tent as medics floated between them with various vials and herbs. It was surprisingly quiet, except for the occasional cough or moan.

My eyes floated to the woman in front, her delicately twisted twin braids resting above her chest. Her nose sharpened to a point that matched the angles of her face. Her cheeks were flushed pink, adding to her youthful, rounded face.

Everything was neat and kept in place despite the chaos. Her pink lips lifted at the corners, her eyes assessing and reassessing for anything alarming—the eyes of a skilled healer.

Yanking my hands from her grip, I wrapped them around my arms, rubbing the remaining chill away. “I?—”

The woman shook her head. “You need to reserve your strength, which includes not talking for a few hours until the tonic wears off.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she lifted a hand. Her eyebrow rose in challenge. Biting my lip, I gave a curt nod as I shifted slightly on the firm cot.

My eyes caught a glimpse of black, quelling my movements as my eyes raked over the still figure. I moved faster than the woman as I jumped, my shaky legs threatening to collapse.

He wasn’t breathing.

There was no rise and fall to his chest. I couldn’t?—

“He’s fine, half-breed.” Ivan gripped my elbows tightly as he shifted between us.

My eyes widened, panic setting in as I twisted to look around his broad frame. “He’s not—” My voice came out raspy like the gravel we’d traveled upon. I swallowed, the words hard to form. “Breathing,” I exclaimed, tears welling in my eyes.

I had killed another person, making my death toll the equivalent of a small gathering.

Ivan’s grip on my elbows tightened as he shook me gently, drawing my attention to silver. “He’s fine. The surgery went well, but he’s resting, as should you.”

Silver ebbed and flowed, stilling my heart and bones to listen. Warmth seeped from his hands as I released a shaky puff of air, my eyes refusing to linger from something so solid, so reassuring.

Ivan’s grip loosened as he slid an arm behind my back, supporting my weight as he brought me closer. He moved back the thick sheets concealing Fin’s chest.

There—the constant rise and fall.

A muffled sob escaped my lips as my legs lost their strength. He was there, his support a solid wall I needed as he tugged me close. I hadn’t killed another person. I’d managed to keep him safe. No one else had died because of me.

“It’s okay,” Ivan whispered, his arms locking me against him.

Even though he didn’t say it, some part of him knew why my tears fell. It wasn’t only the relief that Fin was okay, but also the knowledge no one else suffered because I lived.

He held me tighter as I wept, his blue shirt growing damp against his chest. He shielded me from the patients and medics, tucking his arms around me in a gentle hug. He didn’t reply, didn’t complain as tears turned into sobs. The occasional rub against my back and hair let me know he lingered.

For the first time, I didn’t care if he kidnapped me. I didn’t care if he was why I was separated from Moria. I didn’t care he was a Fae prick.

I needed him .

Something real. Something tangible I could reach and hold onto because he understood my pain. Understood the cracks of my heart as his scent coaxed my bones to cease their wailing, my body fully giving into him.

My face grew green at the amount of tonics Aline shoved down my throat. I had learned her name quickly from the frequent visits, her cold hands poking and prodding my skin.

It wasn’t until half a day’s cycle she cleared me well enough to leave with a pack of tonics labeled for me to take periodically.

The tonics rattled against one another as I headed through the town square, frankly deserted from the attack. Another surprise I had awoken to.

The rebels had laid waste to the once glorious city. The city my father loved so much. It shattered something deep within me, knowing I’d never experience what he did. The one thing remaining of him ceased to exist: a pile of shattered glass and stone.

A few citizens tipped their heads low in greeting as I mulled over the paved streets. Missing stones left craters in the pavement as I maneuvered around them.

The tonics clinked loudly as I jumped over a fallen beam. The wreckage continued to pile despite the town’s efforts, enough they would be restructuring the city for at least three complete moon cycles, if not longer.

Adjusting the pouch, I quickly walked through the town square, stopping at the tent near the makeshift gardens. The once plentiful food supply had been reduced to a few rows of hearty vegetables .

The tent flap fluttered as I shut the debris and heartache behind me.

Ivan fiddled with a cot, the legs retracting and folding at odd angles. Curses spewed from his mouth as the legs folded inward, pinching his thumb.

Laughter erupted as I set the bag against a tent wall, arms crossing over my chest. It was unusual for him to be so flustered, especially for something trivial like a malfunctioning cot.

Ivan whipped his head around, his narrowed eyes widening. He scrambled to his feet, his teeth running over his pinched thumb. “I didn’t expect you here.”

“Need a hand?”

Ivan’s arms crossed over his chest with what little pride he had remaining. “It’s broken, but give it a try.”

Flipping the cot over, I ran my hands over the metal legs, clicking each knob and button into place. Once sturdy, I pulled inward, snapping metal against the fabric. Turning it upright, I sat, a smug smile tugging at the corners as it held firm. “Broken indeed.”

“Beginner’s luck,” he mumbled as he plopped beside me. His thigh rested against mine as he tipped his head back, those gray eyes roaming my face.

“What?” I asked, my cheeks heating underneath his intense gaze as my eyes peered at his throat, my lips itching to trace every curve of skin he had on display.

“You’re intriguing.” His fingers curled around the cot edge, gripping lightly. “One minute, you’re inconsolable. The next minute, you’re a builder. Are there more shades to you I don’t know?”

I shoved those sacrilegious thoughts away—thoughts I would never act on, but to daydream? What harm could come from that? “Maybe you should take the time to understand me,” I finally answered.

“And who are you, half-breed?”

I bit my lip at the question. “I don’t know.”

I had worn so many masks I’d forgotten to take them off somewhere. A culmination of different faces and attitudes melded into me, molding me into the person I was—a shell of the person I used to be. I wasn’t sure how to find her, let alone bring her back.

“Well, you at least know how to build. That’s a plus.” He grinned, patting the cot in emphasis.

I bumped my knee into his, a smile crossing my face. “And you do not.”

He bumped my knee back. “Fair.”

We didn’t speak for a while, each of us basking in each other’s presence. An air of awkwardness lingered about what had occurred in the med tent. Neither of us brought it up as we let it fester on our tongues.

I wanted those arms around me again, and gods, I was stupid for dreaming so, but for some reason, his presence brought me comfort.

Why was my breathing easy around him or the way my heart fluttered at each unexpected glance? My lips and fingers wishing for one chance to feel the heat from his skin again? Or the way my mind struggled to form coherent thoughts when he sat close, my body begging for that hint of rosewood like air?

Ivan shifted. “So Laias,” he said into the thin air.

I hadn’t realized I’d been staring at him as I looked away, my face heating. “Right. Laias,” I blurted, a hand running over my face to blur those thoughts away.

That’s why we were here and had traveled so far in the first place. Not to stare into the eyes of the man who’d comforted me a short while ago.

“What do you want to do? ”

My eyes swiveled back. When had anyone asked me what I’d wanted? “What I want to do?”

His hand curled around the cot, his fingers a mere stone from touching my skin. “Do you want to stay here or do you want to go back to the prison?”

He was—“You mean we could go rescue Moria?”

“Yes. With the rebels having already attacked, it wouldn’t make sense to keep you here as bait. The King and Queen of Laias are dead. It’s a ticking war zone before King Hywell shows up with his soldiers to suppress this land for good. Finish what the rebels started.”

My eyes flicked to his. “If that happens, these people would fall under his reign… his control.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Krones is gone, Laias is gone, and Raha works for King Hywell. There’s no more Houses left standing to oppose him.”

“The last pillar of freedom is gone,” Ivan muttered, his gaze distant as he stared at the dirtied tent flaps. “What’s coming next will be devastating and there’s nothing to prevent it from happening.” His shoulders slumped, tendrils of black falling over the creases of his brow.

A hand raised as I set it on his arm, muscles twitching beneath my fingertips. “Then we stay here. Help them rebuild.”

His eyes widened as he stared at me. “You’d give up searching for Moria to help them?”

Not them, you —I wanted to say, but I gave him a nod. “Only until we help them stabilize. If we left, and Laias fell under his control, where would we even go? Everyone is looking for me and despite how much I hate it, the prison is the safest place for her.” I blew out a breath. “I need to figure out my casting first. To visit that library—research,” I said, hating the words as they left my throat.

His eyes flicked to my hand where it rested on his arm before he cleared his throat. “You? Researching?” A glint of humor swirled within his eyes. “I could never picture you reading a book, let alone boring records written by Fae pricks.”

I rolled my eyes as I ignored that hint of humor. “Tell me where the library is. I want to go there as soon as possible.”

Ivan rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “That—you’ll have to talk to Chiron about. He’s acting as Laias’ figurehead.”

“I have to ask for permission?”

“Not everyone gives you as much leniency as I do.”

“What leniency do you give me?” I teased, leaning into him.

“Far… far too much, half-breed,” he whispered, his voice curling around my ears as he leaned closer.

My breathing paused as the cot creaked beneath the weight of us, my eyes settling on the creases of his eyes. He was Fae, but the curse was already beginning to eat at him too, lines etched into his skin.

I wanted to know how he’d gotten those lines. Was it from worry or happiness? Was it the burden of war or was it the burden of being alone that weighed the corners down?

His frame leaned back quickly, his eyes averting as he stood from the groaning cot. “I… I have to get going,” he muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. “I have a meeting with Chiron.” He pointed to the tent flaps. “Be cordial when you see him. Your tongue might get you in trouble if you’re not careful.”

“What’s wrong with my tongue?” I teased, enjoying the stammering of his words—the lack of eye contact. I wanted to test the limits, to push him past the edge. “What happens if I’m not cordial?”

“Then I’ll have to cut that crass tongue of yours out.”

“Oh? You think that will work?”

His eyes darkened, his fingers curling around the dirt-stained flaps. “If not, I have other ways to quell your speech,” he mused before slipping out.

He left without another word as he left me flushed and frustrated. I was slowly crossing an edge I wasn’t sure I would come back from… an edge I wasn’t sure I wanted to come back from.