Page 128 of These Fractured Bonds

She bucked, trying to dislodge him, but he was like an unmovable force, intent on prying her life from her. Dark spots danced along her vision; she renewed her efforts to free herself. Her chest tingled, and a wave of vertigo hit her. The ground was moving, and she was slipping, sliding down…

Stop panicking. Concentrate your magic into a ball.

Weni’s voice cut through the static in her mind, and Yareli did as she instructed, ignoring the fire in her lungs. She imagined the ball, picturing its blue-silver color emitting frigid air like the steel wall that had contained it before. It rumbled in her, and she understood what Weni intended her to do. She drew more magic to it, growing it until her hold on it became tenuous, and her vision faded.

Release it, Weni instructed.

She burst into light so potent that, despite closing her eyes, it burned, searing her skin. Tuom’s grip on her loosened, and she took a breath of air, but he remained on her. Her light began to fade.

More, Weni demanded.

She siphoned more, her light pulsating again. Her core complained, and there was a growing, sharp ache, but she didn’t stop. Tuom yelled, digging his palms into the ground to keep himself from flying off. She gritted her teeth and, throwing all her rage into it, she pushed harder until Tuom’s bellow was cut short, and he slammed into the ceiling. Her light disappeared, and shestumbled onto her feet. Her side hurt, her headpounded, and her skin was raw, but she kept moving. Rest would only come after death—Tuom’s death.

He hung from the ceiling, his body embedded in the stone. She waved her hand and dropped him to the floor, jolting him awake. She summoned winds to tighten around his body like chains, immobilizing him. Blood ran down his face in great rivulets, and he spat at her when she leaned down. There was one thing left to do.

“Show me who the traitor is,” she demanded, grabbing his chin and forcing his eyes to meet hers.

Yareli dove into his mind without hesitation. It was pitch-black for a moment, and she thought she might have failed to penetrate his mind barrier. Then, torches lit up a long, dirt hallway. She stepped forward and felt stone underfoot. Faint indents of cobblestone were beneath a thick layer of grime. She swiped her hand across the wall, and sure enough, it came back caked with dirt and dust.

Tuom resisted her invasion, the corridor’s walls trembling, and she hurried. Paintings with inscriptions hung on the walls.

Earliest memory.

First victory.

Meeting Lord Astorius.

First kill.

They were his memories, neatly organized and labeled for her perusal, nothing like her lake’s chaotic waters. She moved past them; the deeper she went, the darker and more erratic the paintings became. Simple, realistic oil paintings transformed into dramatic, abstract pieces. She skimmed the titles, pausing at an odd one—an empty canvas painted black, its title readingEndronn. She raised her hand; her fingers had nearly touched the surface when the walls shook, and the torches flickered.

Hurry. Weni’s voice resurfaced in her own mind.The general is regaining strength.

Yareli hesitated a moment longer; something about the painting called to her, a promising source of intel, but the ground trembled as though in warning, and she, lamentably, moved on. Finally, she found it—a painting with her name on it, a collage of brown, black, and purple. She touched it. Amazement filled her as the corridor disassembled in front of her, falling apart in blocks. A familiar cafe sprung up, and she saw herself—frightened and crying—as he kidnapped her.

She swiped her hand, swiping the memory away.That wasn’t the memory she was looking for.She skipped through the memories she knew until she found one that she didn’t recognize. Tuom was on an open-air balcony facing the sea. The glass table he sat at was lined with the same iridescent seashells that covered the floor. He took a sip of his coffee, the porcelain cup gleaming in the bright afternoon sun. He spoke out loud.

“What an ironic location you’ve chosen for this meeting.” He placed his cup down, clinking it against its small plate. “Although, given the meeting’s nature, it might be appropriate. So,” he said, turning to the dark entryway, “What do you wish for in exchange, Flame General Allyah?”

Sourness filled the pit of Yareli’s stomach. Allyah’s betrayal shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but still, it rocked her. She had urged Yareli to flee the Fire Court, to not fall into the hands of the enemy, but here it was—the evidence that she had betrayed them.

Allyah stepped into the patio, dressed in a dark travel robe. “Independence from Izmari.”

“What makes you believe I have the power to grant such a thing?” Tuom asked, amusement in his voice.

She scoffed. “I am not like the other fools in the trifecta; I’ve heard the rumors. You’ll soon overtake the queen and establish a new kingdom. I want the Fire Court’s independence."

“Even if those rumors were true, you believe a human girl is worth that much?”

Allyah slid her gaze to the sea, watching the waves crash onto the rocks below. Her voice was cool when she spoke. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Besides, the girl has magic now.”

Tuom’s eyebrow quirked up.

“I see. Then, I suppose it’s time she returns to my side; I allowed the leash to run too far. Don’t you agree?”

Allyah said nothing. “I want my name out of it. Let her complete the Fire Festival, then retrieve her. I’ve grown tired of her insolence.”

“She does have an attitude that gets under your skin.”