Page 87 of Godbound
And now they remind me, one by one, with every step they take away.
I force myself to ignore the grief burning behind my eyes, but it claws at me, unraveling the last threads of composure I have left.
“Hold your head high,” Kaelzar murmurs, his voice a low rasp near my ear, echoing the command he barked when we first met. “You’ve embarrassed yourself enough.”
I stiffen.
Heat flares in my chest, indignation twisting through exhaustion. Is he mocking me? After everything I’ve just endured, he chooses cruelty again?
I whip around, ignoring the stabbing pain in my side and hands, ready to snap at him, to tell him never to speak to me that way again.
But the words freeze when I see his mouth twitching into a smirk.
“With all your rolling about and bleeding everywhere,” he says, tone light and teasing, “it was quite the spectacle.”
Is he… joking? The glint in his eyes, threaded with unmistakable mischief, answers before the thought fully forms.
And then it clicks. He’s echoing our first exchange—pulling me back from the edge. So that I could breathe. So I would feel anything other than the unraveling grief tightening around my throat.
And gods, it works.
A broken, almost startled sound escapes me. I think it’s a laugh.
“I bet it was,” I rasp, the words rough as gravel dragged across my throat, but easier to carry now that he’s shared some of the weight.
Kaelzar’s shoulders ease, his posture loosening. He tilts his head slightly, studying me with quiet curiosity.
I follow his gaze to the statue of Calista. My vision wavers,darkness creeping at the edges, but I blink it away, forcing myself to focus.
A small group kneels before her statue, their prayers offered to her. Mostly women with red hair. A few others, their hair untouched by the Crimson Tether curse, linger close—perhaps lovers, daughters, mothers of the cursed.
Despite losing nearly half of those I saved, more still kneel for me than for the others.
And there’s him, too, the man who caught me when Seraphina shoved me. His words slither back, threading through the haze:It wasn’t the gods that ended the Archpriest, girl. Though someone tried really hard to make it seem so.
It hadn’t sounded like speculation. There’d been no doubt in his voice. And if what he said is true?—
The thought fragments as my body sways. My vision tunnels, dark creeping in again. Blood loss. Exhaustion. My raw wounds throb.
Strong hands steady me. Kaelzar’s touch is firm but careful, grounding me like an anchor in a storm. And in a quiet, startling realization, I know that I don’t fear falling. Because if I do, he’ll catch me.
Just before the darkness overtakes me, movement at the arena’s entrance catches my eye. A group spills inside, led by Ryker. His eyes search wildly across the space.
A weak, trembling smile tugs at my lips. I lift a hand toward him as my body slips further from my control. The world tilts, dimming at the edges.
Then everything goes black.
Pain flares at my side,dragging me back from unconsciousness with a soft gasp. My fingers fumble for the thick bandage wrapped over the raw gash along my ribs, the ache beneath it is sharp and persistent. My hands too are wrapped tightly in bandages, my fingers stiff, nearly immovable. Small, deep green leaves poke out from beneath the pale cloth—medicinal, I assume, their numbing effect dulling the worstof the pain.
Blinking slowly, I take in the unfamiliar space: the bed beneath me, vast and strange, its wooden frame looming protectively around me. The scent of wood and earth fills my senses as I feel a soft blanket cover me in my undergarments. The steady crackle of fire is the only sound.
Grinding my teeth to hold back a yelp, I force myself to sit up with slow, deliberate effort. Then, I see him. Kaelzar, sprawled near the fireplace.
His cloak is bunched beneath his head as a makeshift pillow, his chest bare, the inky chains lying still over his skin. Without their usual movement, the links look subdued. But I know better. They’re never truly asleep, only waiting.
The arm that bears the same sigil of Calista I wear on my own is propped beneath his head. The other rests loosely against his torso.
That’s when I notice a second sigil around his forearm, one I’ve never seen before.
