Talon did not spare him a glance, his eyes remaining locked on our joined palms. “You know my name. That means you are aware of what I am capable of. So, why do you still hold her hands?
Aric’s hand tore from mine so fast he nearly stumbled over his own boots. He retreated into the crowd without a backward glance, leaving me alone in the hollow Talon had carved into the day.
I stepped down from the platform, my boots hitting the stone as I moved into his personal space.
“You have no right,” I hissed. “You are my chaperone, not my jailer. You are dismantling every attempt I make.”
Talon’s hood shifted as he tilted his head. He was impossibly tall, his presence making the expansive square feel like a closet.
“I am fulfilling my duty.”
“By frightening them away?” I gestured to the empty line. “How am I to find a bond when you are standing here looking like death itself?”
He stepped closer. “You believe proximity to me erases possibility? If that man were your match, Kaelia, my shadow would not have been enough to douse the spark.”
He looked down at me, his gaze dropping to the pulse point at my throat. It was the first time I had really looked at him in the sunlight. His jaw was a hard, clean line, and his mouth was set in a way that made me wonder if he ever actually smiled.
“I know you felt nothing for him,” he said, his voice dropping.
The blood rushed to my face—partly from the heat of the square, but mostly from the humiliation of being seen so clearly.
“You cannot know that.”
“I can. I saw your soul recoil before he even touched you.”
“There is no such thing for you to see,” I scoffed.
“You are trying to tether yourself to a soul that does not answer yours,” he countered, his eyes narrowing to slits of piercing blue. “You will not do it. You are too stubborn to survive a false bond.”
“I will if it is the only choice I have.”
His gaze raked over me—from the silver constellations on my bodice down to the hem of my dress—before returning to my eyes. “Perhaps you have a better one.”
“You speak in riddles, Talon.” I stepped forward, poking a finger firmly against the dark fabric of his chest. It felt likeprodding a wall of solid marble. “If you think this is a game, you are mistaken.”
He did not flinch. He just watched my finger as if it were a curious insect. “I do not play games, little flame.”
Standing up on the tips of my toes, I leaned close enough that my nose brushed his. I felt the heat of his breath, my eyes briefly flickering to his mouth before I forced myself to meet his stare.
“Leave me alone, Master Veythar,” I whispered. “If you truly wish to not see me fail, walk away.”
A faint crease appeared between his brows as his gaze searched mine.
I hated the way he looked at me—not because he was the Master of Veythar, but because he looked at me as if he already knew the shape of my soul. Twenty years of building ice around my heart, and he was turning it all to water just by breathing near me.
Talon took a slow step back. “Continue then. Offer your hand again.”
“And you? Will you leave?”
“No,” he said. “I will sit here and watch you find only silence.”
7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Talon had been correct.
After twenty-three unbounds, I was met with only silence—and a growing sense of aversion that made my skin itch.