Bound (Bound Trilogy) (6 page)

In any case, she was exactly what I’d been searching for.  If I took her back to Tyrea and handed her over to Severn, my work would be done. Delivering someone like this would win Severn’s favor and once again prove my loyalty. If he trusted me enough to make me his Second, things would change for the better. My work might still occasionally involve manipulating Severn’s enemies, but at least I’d be doing it in Luid instead of in the outer provinces or this gods-forsaken land. Taking this hidden Sorceress to Severn would buy me power and wealth—and anything or anyone those resources could buy.

And yet, this girl had saved my life at great risk to herself, and I needed to decide what that was worth.

I stood to open the window, and breathed in the cool night air. My brothers would call me a fool for even considering leaving her here. They’d have taken her in just to prove they didn’t owe anything to anyone. Compassion was weakness, as was gratitude to those below our station, and my family had seen too much weakness in me when I was a child. I’d worked to harden myself to fear and love and everything else that makes one vulnerable, but suddenly found myself struggling again.

Wealth and power and freedom were within my grasp, and I was considering letting it go so a stranger could live.
Idiot.

I flexed my arm again and felt its weakness. It would be too difficult to take her back in my current state, I decided. I would leave her, at least for now. If she was lucky, I’d find another.

The stairs creaked outside of the closed door.

Damn it
. I’d forgotten to send my awareness out, lulled by that warm magic into a feeling of safety.
I moved silently to the door and leaned against it. A single presence approached, female. Not threatening, but I doubted she’d be pleased to find a naked stranger in the house and the girl lying half-dead on the floor.

A knock. “Rowan? Are you awake? I’m off to bed, if you need anything.” A soft voice, concerned but not overly so. When no answer came, she turned to leave. As soon as she left the stairwell, I locked the door.

“Rowan, is it?” I asked. The girl on the floor didn’t answer.

The wagon ride had been torture. Every bump in the road sent fire burning through my veins, courtesy of the poison in my wounded wing. Still, I had listened, and heard much of her conversation with the hunters. Dorset Langley. I knew that name, though I’d never met the man. His reputation as a magic hunter reached far beyond his country’s borders. And she was to marry his son.

“Why ever would you do a thing like that?” In their country those who fought against magic were heroes, and she would be marrying into a wealthy and powerful family. But as a magic-user, perhaps even a Sorceress, she was putting her life in danger to do it. So either she valued social status above her own life, or she felt confident enough in her ability to hide the magic that she thought it was worth the risk.

“Or she doesn’t know what she is.” An interesting idea.

I sat again and pulled my hands through my tangled hair, then tied the mess behind my neck with one of the strings from the sewing basket. As I ate what was left of the girl’s supper, I glanced around the room to see what I could learn about her.

Illustrated books about nature lay stacked on one shelf, though I suspected they omitted many of the creatures we were familiar with on the other side of the mountains. There was fiction there, too, bound in leather and paper, probably nothing I would recognize. Scholars in Tyrea studied Darmish culture, such as it was, and I’d learned enough to know that their stories were like their land: scrubbed clean of magic.

And interest,
I thought.

When I stood again, the heavy quilt I wore knocked the girl’s travel bag onto its side, and another book slid out onto the floor.

As I flipped through the brittle old pages, I smiled. “That’s more like it,” I told her, and tried not to laugh. In my country, these were children’s stories. There was a girl with a fairy godmother, as if the fairies would have any interest in the position. The prince turned into a monster and restored by love came next, followed by talking animals, burnt witches, and magic of the lightest and gentlest sort. But, I reminded myself, things were different here. The Darmish didn’t allow their children to be exposed to these stories, which they considered heretical. Just possessing this book would get my unlikely rescuer into serious trouble if it were discovered. 

She was a mystery, but one I couldn’t dwell on for long. When I extended my awareness again, the house was quiet. It would be safe to leave. But as I stepped past the body on the floor, she moved. Not much, just a slight arch of the back. Her head turned to one side, and the waves of tangled reddish hair fell back from her face.

She was lovely. I’d caught a glimpse of that when I was in eagle form, but had been unable to appreciate it fully. Now, in human form and with the pain receding, I could see it. The memory of her thick eyebrows knitting together over clear and intelligent eyes increased my pulse, as did the thought of her well-proportioned torso as she struggled out of her heavy sweater.  No woman in my home city of Luid would have allowed herself to be seen in such an unkempt state, but there was something appealing about this girl’s clean face and wild hair. Too appealing.

“Definitely time to go,” I whispered.

I should have been able to leave her there. She’d served her purpose. If a night on the floor was the worst she suffered from meeting me, she would be better off than most. And yet, I couldn’t do it.

I rubbed my hands over my face then wrapped the blanket around my waist. As I lifted her, her head rolled back, leaving her throat exposed as the collar of her shirt pulled open where she’d neglected to close the top few buttons. Such vulnerability should have seemed pathetic to me, but I found myself instead pulling her close to my chest and wanting to protect her.

It’s her magic
, I realized, and released the breath I’d been holding. Of course. It was still affecting me. Completely natural. Regrettable, but natural.
It will pass, and no one ever has to know.

My left arm screamed with pain, and I hoisted the girl over my shoulder to carry her to her bed one-handed.

I gave into my weakness for another moment and made her as comfortable as I could, removing her boots, loosening the ties at the waist of her trousers, and pulling a blanket up to her shoulders. I reached out for her mind, but found that I couldn’t see her thoughts. She was there, but blocked—another indication that her hidden magic was strong.

“Goodbye, Rowan,” I whispered. “Best of luck to you with your magic hunter.”

As I stepped out of the sitting room and onto the top stair, a certainty that she wasn’t safe stopped me. She had used magic to help me. Would that change anything for her? Would her betrothed see what she was?

“Not my problem,” I muttered, and forced my feet forward. Still, my mind wouldn’t let go of her.
And how could she not know what she is? That was powerful magic that she used, that my body is still using.

A memory from history lessons tickled the back of my thoughts, but wouldn’t come forward. Something about a punishment that kings once used against rival Sorcerers.

This could be significant.

Pain twisted through the new scar on my arm. Perhaps it would be better to stay for just a few days, until my strength returned. I’d need it if I was going to risk returning to Luid empty-handed. Perhaps I would learn something useful.

Perhaps I’d change my mind about taking her when her magic was no longer influencing me.

I returned to the sitting room and folded the quilt on the seat of the chair, then let magic flow through me and transform my body again. I found my eagle brain able to see the situation more objectively.
Only logical
, I thought as I settled in for the night.
Survival first. In a few days, she’ll just be an unfortunate part of my past.

Chapter Seven

Rowan

I
’ve been having the same nightmare for as long as I can remember. In the dream I can’t see or hear anything. All I’m aware of is something being wrapped tight around my body, squeezing. I try to inhale, but there’s no room to breathe. That’s where the dream ends, in suffocating darkness.

When I woke, it looked like I’d been having that dream again. The blankets were twisted around my legs, and at some point during the night I’d shoved my pillows onto the floor. I closed my eyes and tried to remember, but everything seemed jumbled in my mind, as though whatever happened the evening before had been mixed with surreal dreams. I remembered unbearable pain. I remembered trying to fix the eagle, and I remembered fainting. Nothing more.

I kicked the blankets away and rolled gingerly onto my side, careful to not waken the pain that had faded to a bearable ache as I slept. I was still dressed, but my boots stood neatly paired beside the bed, and the laces on my pants were undone. I didn’t remember going to bed. Had Della come up and found me on the floor? If so, had she seen the eagle?

The eagle
. I closed my eyes again and sighed.
The poor thing probably died while you were passed out on the floor, you silly thing
.
So much for your life-saving skills.

I changed into fresh clothes and hurried through the sitting area to the washroom, not daring to look around yet, and took my time getting ready for the day. Only when I couldn’t stand it any longer did I go back to the sitting room.

Nothing. No body on the table, no bloodstained jacket in the corner, not even the strange, green piece of wood I vaguely remembered pulling from the bird’s wing.

“
Skraaw?
”

I spun around to look for the source of the soft croaking noise. A brown and gold eagle perched with its talons sunk deep into the upholstery of my armchair, but it couldn’t have been the same one. Far from looking like the bedraggled, nearly dead thing I remembered, this bird was alert and healthy, though one wing drooped slightly. I took a step forward, then hesitated. That beak looked even more intimidating than it had the evening before. The eagle didn’t move, but watched calmly as I edged closer, as though he was accustomed to human company. A hunting bird, maybe.

As if to demonstrate his good health the eagle stretched, wingtips reaching out as wide as I was tall. He pulled them back in, right wing still held slightly askew, and began preening his glossy feathers.

I’m losing my mind,
I thought, and looked again. The wound, while still visible, had done an impossible amount of healing for one night. This was a strange animal, or I’d been asleep for a lot longer than I thought.

I backed slowly toward the bookshelf and grabbed “The Illustrated Field Guide to Birds Vol. II.” I’d borrowed it from my uncle’s library thinking I could use it to practice drawing, but had never found time.

I had no idea what might have become of volumes I or III, but this book had exactly what I was looking for. On page twenty-six, perched between the White-Headed Eagle and the Fish Hawk, was my house-guest, the Golden Eagle. There was no other useful information, but it was good to have a name to put to the bird.

A name…
When I glanced up the eagle was still watching me with his head cocked to one side. The feathers over his eyes gave him a stern and serious look.

“I don’t know how long you’re going to be staying, but I can’t be calling you ‘hey you’ or ‘fella’ while you’re here,” I told him. “We even name the chickens, and we
eat
them.” I tapped a fingernail against my teeth as I considered the problem. “I once read an old story with an eagle called Aquila in it. Suits you well enough. What do you think?”

I didn’t expect a reaction, and I didn’t get one. The eagle just stared at me, somehow appearing relaxed and vigilant at the same time.

He stretched again, hopped down to the floor and flapped up to the table, scattering my drawings and a few books. The window was open, and he shuffled over to the sill and onto a cherry tree branch that grazed the side of the house. He seemed perfectly content to sit there, ignoring me. I stooped to pick the books up. One was the old fairy tale book from the library, though I didn’t remember taking it out of my bag.

“It’s magic, isn’t it?” I asked as I leaned out the window. “That’s how you healed so quickly. Did you come from over the mountains?”

The eagle didn’t respond, but a thrill rushed through me. There was simply no other explanation. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the excitement dulled. I remembered what Ashe had said about magic, and everything we’d been taught about the need to protect ourselves from it. This was real life, now, not a fairy tale.

But still, he was just an animal. There couldn’t be any harm in helping him, could there? He seemed normal, aside from the overnight healing.

“You’re not dangerous, are you?” I asked. Aquila stared at me for a moment, then slowly clacked his beak. Not threatening me, but I didn’t know what it meant. Maybe nothing.

“So what am I supposed to do with you now?” I paced between the chair and the bookcase, and Aquila watched from the window. “If I tell someone, I don’t know what they’ll do to you. I doubt it’ll be pleasant, if Dorset Langley was after you. But if I take you back to the forest before you’re ready, you won’t survive.” I tugged at my hair as I thought. “Tell you what. You can stay just a little longer, but I’m watching you.” I hardly wanted to admit to myself that I was feeling the excitement again. “You hurry up and finish healing, and then you’d better get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

Aquila fluffed his feathers and settled his head on his breast. At least someone was comfortable with the arrangement.

“That’s settled, then. You do what you want, just stay out of trouble. If you fall out of the tree I can’t risk smuggling you in again, and if Matthew sees you, I have no idea how you got here. I’ll try to bring you something to eat later.”