Twisted Spirit

By CC Rose

Book 9 in the Rehema Series. With no answers to her and Creston’s curse, Rehema must continue on. Given an opportunity to start her Ezan training sooner, she discovers that she might have been better off staying at Draeos. Dyson is twice as cryptic as the ghost, and ten times more mystery that Rehema wants to uncover who he really is, but the threat of Hector unleashing phazers from the in-betweens will push her to her limits. when the least likest enemy shows their face, it will be at a high cost to the bonded pair. Rehema is forced to face her worst fears once again. Only this time. Life will never be the same for her or La’Kera again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CC Rose
• Release date: Sep 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463408001

CC Rose

C C Rose lives in Queensland Australia.Inspired by all things magical, mystical and other worldly, creatures, fantasy and dragons most of all.Aim for the stars, and you’ll land on the moon.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I knotted my fingers in my lap, crossing my legs with a nervous exhale only to stand and pace the hall as anxiety flooded my thoughts.

Rehema. Relax, please, pleaded Creston, calmly. He was sitting on the opposite bench beside two oak doors, which I glared at with annoyance and repeated my pacing.

I can’t, I said, hating that the ten foot of space between us was too small an area, and annoyingly—I couldn’t walk towards him. I had to keep my eyes on the floor if I wanted to be near him, but I couldn’t budge in his direction. I settled for the four foot space between my chair and the window, back and forth. Back and forth. My feet moved in a constant motivation of ‘forward’ just like my mind. Rushing off with thoughts too fast to think through and I had to keep shaking my head at them, because it was pointless thinking about things. I was so wound up on thinking. I exhaled and paused at the windowsill, taking in the view of the rain spattered glass and outside—EzRah. But my mind wasn’t really seeing the view. It was too focused on the oak doors and what was happening behind them. He’s been in there for hours, Creston. Hours! I grumbled.

And it might be a few more. Creston leant forward in his chair, his elbows on his muscular thighs as he clasped his strong hands together. Yup. Calm as sunshine. I’m sure he’s just covering all areas.

Tugh. All areas? You heard him yesterday. The Committee didn’t even want to discuss this. Only what happened in Stone Mountain—that’s it.

And I’m sure they have their reasons. He kept his eyes low, the lashes fanning his cheeks. I pressed my lips together hating I couldn’t walk towards him, to sit beside him—to hold him, lean into his broad chest and breathe his leathery scent of pine, apples, spices; all things… Creston. That was all I wanted. To touch him, without this… this separation spell.

I turned to the rain drenched city. Witches, wizards, and dangorians walked with haste across streets, avoiding the downpour with arched umbrellas, some used their jackets to cover themselves while kids splashed their way through it. I lowered my gaze to the burn on my palm. It was more than just blistered skin and an angry mark. It symbolised everything bad and twice more for me. The separation symbol was palm sized, but even now—four days since waking from a slumber and to my shocking discovery, three months later since it happened, and it hadn’t faded.

Watching the people moving towards food markets and restaurants for lunch, lost in their own problems, simple humble lives with simple solvable problems. The summer holidays were around the corner—not one week away. Three months had melted away in a haze, and for me—a slumber with La’Kera.

Creston and Rayn’Nar were in slumber also and we’d woken four days ago at the exact same time. Here and now, it was all different. Three months ago, I was able to kiss and hold him. Now. Not so much as a look. Two days ago we were able to see each other—that was an effort. To walk towards him, to reach out to him—I couldn’t. Anything that I would normally do, wasn’t possible. Damien tried several counter spells, all kinds of potions. Karson offered meditation, herbs…but nothing worked.

Nothing worked!

Nothing changed!

Creston and I were cursed to be a part, to never touch one another—ever.

You have nothing to worry about, Rehema. Creston’s voice brought me back to the here and now. To the before also. For us, it was four days ago, or a week at best. To the rest of the land. It was three months ago. You killed Hector’s army, you even took out several nasty Ry’Delgori… you saved us and countless dangorians.

Maybe—the committee still see me as a threat … or something not good.

That’s not true. You are good. There was a strain there, in his voice. I turned to hold his gaze. Both of us gave a nod, understanding at least. Maybe they know away to take this off. He held up his palm. I was itching to reach out to his palm, to heal it. Turns out, this wasn’t a wound that could heal. A mark—a branding, as Damien called it. When made of magic, it can never be healed or removed. They just have to go over everything first.

I hope so, Creston. I just can’t … think of this being our way of life.

It won’t be. Member. We discussed this. We’ll find away. Karson’s already got books coming from the south.

Yeah. Just wish I knew away to heal it, to fix it. I’m Dy’Monian. I stopped Damien’s curse—somehow. Why can’t I fix this?

Creston stood, swiftly. He walked with direct sight on the window and with a double step twice before he was there—two foot from me. How he managed to walk towards me was a miracle. He had more skill in it. I was hard press looking at him without the burn in my palm telling me to walk the other way. Creston pressed his palm to the windowsill and after a breath he turned his rustic eyes to me. We’ll get through this, Rehema. Promise. We’ll do as we have … just, I won’t give up.

Me either. I lowered my gaze, wanting to take a step toward him.

Look on the bright side, it’s the end of your eleventh year. No repeating. He tried for a joke, one that would have had me jib him in the ribs. See. A smile. He teased, even from this distance he was able to do that. You’re to start your final year in two months and hopefully by then, we’ll be back to normal.

You have it all worked out.

Course. Py’s going to help us out. Xavier will be there, and your other friends won’t give up either.

You sure about that? Amber looks like she’s going to burst into tears whenever she sees us two in a room.

Hmm … I’m sure it’s just her hope. His hand slipped along the wooden frame, the smallest movement he wanted to reach out to me—to my surprise it brushed my finger. The tiny hairs breath and neither of us moved.

Staring into his eyes, lost to the sensation. He was in reach. A breath away. The curse wouldn’t let us touch, not deliberately. Barely even a glance. Karson had tried to force our hands together and like the norks discovered—we couldn’t be forced together. But if we were distracted from each other and focused on something else we could find ourselves next to each other, touching; the curse would tingle once we recognised the action. The burn started, thousands of pins digging into my palm, slowly growing to a knife twist, and then fire…burning through my veins, my skin wasn’t harmed. But it sure felt like it. It was a torment. A true agony of pain. Burning, raw, dividing pain. Endless. Resettles. and for a full minute, we stayed focused on one another before the constant probing had us pull away. Both of us holding to the invisible blisters on our right hand. Scowling the pain.

We’ll find away, Rehema, he said pointedly, and sat where he was before; his features hardening. Trying to calm himself, trying to hide his thoughts from me. His emotions.

Can’t believe it’s been three months, I said after a length of silence. How’s Dawn?

She’s good. She visited every weekend—so she says. Cedric stepped in while I was … sleeping. He lingered on the word. Sleeping? Slumbering the pain from us. I nodded, lost to the lack of interest it held.

I should have been interested, eager to know all that happened in the last three months, but I wasn’t. I was numb, twice more since discovering that Creston and I were cursed.

I closed my eyes to the rain outside and seeped into La’Kera. She was in the caves, the rain was a bother for flights, but not impossible. She’d woken up two days ago. Rested, ready and informing me the pain that we had suffered was no more—only the curse remained. Taking in several dragons around her in the den. Lyr’Rax, Rayn’Nar, Blade’Dur, Sky’Ros as well as Kif’Eda, Da’Vora and Da’Ika. Blade’Dur was telling tales of past battles, while the other’s listened and injected their points—since they were their Elder and loved telling tales from many points and views. La’Kera and Sky’Ros were new to the tellings. from the side, squeaked an interruption that had several dragons rumbling. Rel’Tor. The sixth month old, white dragon chick. Seven feet from chest to tail and he loved to bug La’Kera since she woke, who didn’t mind in the least. He bounded into the room and swooped into her side with a shuffle of his wings to watch wide eyed of the six, forty-five foot dragons before him. Blade’Dur continued his tale as Rel’Tor released a purr.

He has grown so much, I missed more while we were sleeping.

Why did time move on us?

I was not aware of time or the length needed. I just knew the pain needed to move, and only then could we wake. I hope not to do that again my young one, it was much riskier knowing we had not touched in many weeks.

Hmm … and we spent all day yesterday in the field of First Love. Wish it didn’t rain today.

The rain is heavy, but needed. The Committee are taking their time with this meeting. Why invite you if you are to stand outside the walls?

I don’t know. I just hate everything … well, you know what I mean.

I do, it is unfair that Hector found away to curse you; not two days after you awoke from killing his army—and yet the vision you saw prier to waking, was not old or new. She lingered on the vision before the rector came into view—three months ago. The vision of Hector crying over his wife’s ashes, placing them in a box to go on about the shards and the moons of Ad’seil. To us that happened days ago—now it was months later.

I was confused with the change around me. So much had happened, least in the three months since. Xavier was able to have Py as his pet neky’mon who seemed eager to hang around me. According to Karson, Py rarely if ever left my side at night while I was in slumber. He found ways to sneak from Draeos to EzRah—since that’s where we were this whole time. Slumbering away.

We were healing. Not being lazy. Remember that.

It was strange; sleeping with you like that. Like our souls were together … we were of no form there and completely aware of all things.

As is the way of dragon sleep. I was aware of you, the weather and at times the knowledge and reasons why. I was on the tower for three months with no shelter. That was why my body turned to stone much sooner. Rayn’Nar was in the dens, she didn’t need to protect herself as strongly.

Why didn’t they take us—me to you, and Creston to her?

There was no point. We would not wake even when Lyr’Rax came to find me.

Lyr’Rax came to find you? I puzzled her thoughts on this, it was almost an afterthought for her.

All dragons in slumber can be reached by another. Perhaps it is similar to your soul dance with Damien.

Thankfully I haven’t had one of those since waking. I half joked. Do you think I’m broken?

No, Rehema. You are healed, whole and one with me. Only this curse of separation remains.

Rel’Tor rolled at her side, wide eyed on Blade’Dur’s tale of the viper attack. His throat released several growls, and the dragons rumbled with amusement. The snicker from Creston had me pull from her view to see him, he bobbed his head. Knowing he was watching the young bull through Rayn’Nar who was beside La’Kera, and like most the dragons; dazzled by his pearl form. Seemed the younger the Dy’Monian the cuter they are. The white is splendid, and more hues and pearl shades they reflect when around others, while La’Kera was just as majestic, enchanted and pearl white as always—she had faded to a hue of more bluish-greenish tones in her scales. I, myself was dazzled at times with Rel’Tor as much as everyone else. Sure—white, but far more splendid.

The door opening, had my thoughts tumbled to here.

Damien Balrok entered into the hall with a hard look. His presence was felt and acknowledge with a nod. The Lord. Yes. My master. His pure white hair was half tied, few strands fell across the side of his long face. The full length scar was more prominent and as always his main feature, running from brow to chin diagonally along the left side, heavily scarred. The pale skin tone looked whiter against his dark wears of the EzanGuard uniform of gold, dust reds and blues. Armour across his chest plate, shoulders and waist made him appear intimidating and charming. While he had a true-name sword at will, he still carried a standard sword at his hip; for looks I could only assume. Taking him in, I was seeing the man I had met nineteen months ago. The bad ass Ryder with attitude; lethal, direct and powerful just looking at him with a hint of grace and a control of emotions. He had an air about him. Shadows trembled in his presences.

Damien might be a two hundred and twenty year old Ryder, King of the O’Pulsans and Lord of a Fleet, Lord Commander of EzRah. He looked closer to thirty instead of the standard twenty-five years all Ryders age to. The scar that split his top lip and brow held sinister at times; and somehow, I was seeing past it to the man he was—a friend. He was in a neutral mood. His blue eyes held with mine for a sixth longer before he turned to Creston. Creston was slow to rise, eager for news as I was. Damien shook his head and turned to me.

Miss Thorndale. The Chancellors would like a word with you. His slow drawled voice held with authority.

Yes, Master Damien. I moved to the door, with a hard swallow. Finally. My thoughts echoed. I paused at entering when I realised Creston wasn’t joining me—not that we could walk hand-in-hand, but still. I blinked twice on the edge of asking. Damien stepped behind me, with another shake of his head at Creston to remain where he was. He nodded, that small dip and a softer smile showed. To keep going.

Chapter 2

Entering into this room, I was pleased it wasn’t the chamber room from last time I came to the courts—mostly because this wasn’t the judgment court house that I had been on trial for. This was the standard court house—a building on the east side of their main building. The room was large, high pillars and several seating areas for a large number of guests to witness all that was needed. The familiar five Committee members were in the higher balcony peering to me though not the ones taking on these proceedings. In the head of the room were three Ryders. A Roo’Bineyes, O’Pulsan and Sapherian.

The meeting and gathering for, Miss Rehema Thorndale can begin, said a man to the side, one who was hidden behind hundreds of documents and parchments on an over filled table and floor around him. Please greet your Chancellors, Miss Thorndale—Taylor of O’Pulsan, bond of Kar’Dar. Angus of Roo’Bineyes Bond of Fla’Rah and Cranston of Sapherian, Bond of Riv’Nor. You may be seated. He watched as I dipped my head to all three Ryders before I took a seat.

A hard bench and table, nothing on it, least room for me to place my hands, and fold them to my chest. It was in the centre of the room. All eyes on me. I peeked to see Damien taking stance by the side, hands behind his back an emotionless gaze held no clue to what was to happen. Years of practice is what that look was, and it was odd to see Damien as this from of authority. To stand idle while a conversation was soon to take place.

Taking in the three Ryders before me, I lingered on Taylor. A rough looking Ryder, dark beard trimmed, with long locks of dark hair as was Angus. Ginger bearded, thick with bushy brows and umber eyes. Cranston looked the gentler of the Ryders; soft ash brown hair trimmed neatly to his ears and neck line with calming blue eyes like the sky on sunset.

Now to start the Proceedings of Miss Rehema Thorndale; Bond of La’Kera; Dy’Monian kin, started Taylor.

Proceedings? I wanted to question.

In the sixth month this year, you were attacked by Lord Balrok who was infected by a phazer?

Er … I glanced at Damien, stoned face and emotionless.

Is that your answer? Asked Taylor who arched a dark brow from his parchment since he’d been reading from it and waited for me to answer.

Er … no. I mean. Yes. Yes Lord Balrok attacked me. Why I felt odd speaking about that after so long was strange. Hello. I was captured by a dark Ryder. A mad man—one who had an army of delgori ready to storm your homes.

And you singularly annihilated the phazer within him using you elemental power…spirit.

Yes.

And not one night later you destroyed another Phazer—believed to be inside that of the Kings guard. Gilldar.

Er … yes. I blinked. What was this about?

You destroyed it? Released it from the host, cleansing the King and his personal guards?

Yes. I did that.

And did you discover a Phazer in the grounds of Draeos. One that … eluded your capture.

Yes. How did they know all about this?

They are the council for a reason.

Did you claim to have seen the phazer inside a creature—a neky’mon.

Yeah. I glanced to Damien. His pose hadn’t changed. Er … Chancellors? Are we to discus this? I held my palm up, showing them the symbol. At all?

Hmm … Was Angus’s response, the other two seemed confused as to why I interrupted them.

The Curse of Curses? Questioned Taylor. It has been brought to light. You are separated from a … Master Creston Dalton? he shuffled his papers, as though he’d need to clarify that bit of information.

Y-yes. It took me a moment to realise it was a question and not a statement.

And it is imprinted on your skin, not your glove?

Yes. I frowned at the three men before me. The confusion I was feeling didn’t show in their eyes.

A misfortune as it is. And being that it was made by a Dark Ryder.

Hector… he did this to us.

Hector Wintor of Roo’Bineyes, Bond of Terah’Nigh. Droned on Taylor. He is possibly the only one who can remove it.

So … you will capture him? I stumbled for understanding

Hardly, scoffed Angus.

Hector is considered missing, added Taylor. Lost to the darkness and most likely impossible to capture at this time. Though, as we said, misfortunate to you and Mr. Dalton, the curse can not be cured. He lingered on the word ‘cured’ and I inhaled sharply. And while you are eighteen—an age considered reasonable to be dating another; and strangely enough, accepted by many; since Mr. Dalton is a mentor in the grounds of Draeos. Your relationship hasn’t been flaunted or seen as improper around others until most recently. Prier to the last three months—you two shared quarters from time to time?

Er … y-yes. I blushed at his words. Shared quarters.

"It is uncommon for a student and mentor to be allowed to … couple as one. While you are not his tutelage, it has come to our understanding that he puts you first above his own charge."

I blinked at his words. His forwardness.

I don’t think that’s true, sirs. This isn’t even important.

We wish to understand all that is needed. He added.

Needed? I was captured by Hector, tortured for days to watch Corbin get killed during the battle that I was rescued from … and … and I returned home to be cursed apart from my boyfriend. To slumber for three months. What else is needed?

We are aware of your situation, Miss Thorndale, said Taylor holding his eyes on me with a distant look of boredom. To be cursed with a rector—to have the imprint of the hex branded on your body. While it is unfortunate that it happened at all, we are here to discuss the previous four months. To gather the required information to assess us on how you have managed to escape the grounds—and while under the strict rule of an Elder. We will discuss the importance of Master Creston Dalton and his devoted attention to you at a later date. He lifted his chin. Now. Starting on the day that you pushed—Lord Damien Balrok—an Elder of Dangora—your mentor, through a portal into the north.

I bit my lip with his words. Crap. I didn’t want to relive that.

Taylor, Angus and Cranston paused, waiting for my answer. Taylor sighed heavy.

We will be seeking a memory tale with your bond in due course, it is with honour and acceptance that you state what you need. Remember, this is a court room of truth and all that you say must be the truth. Your bond will show us any lies that you tell and it will be held against you.

What could I say to his words. Truth? I was all for truth.

Now answer the questions as accurately as possible, Miss Thorndale. Angus lifted a quill to a parchment as did Cranston, while Taylor read out the questions.

Did you push Lord Damien Balrok through a portal stone, known by many as an eclipse—from Draeos grounds?

Yes.

Did you push a Master Creston Dalton through the portal from Draeos grounds?

No.

Did you enter into the portal, knowing it was to take you from Draeos grounds?

Y-yes.

Did you try to return through the portal once on the other side?

Yes. But it wasn’t of power.

We need no reasons, just yes or no for now. Injected Cranston.

Taylor nodded and continued the questions. Did you discover the phazer—host to a neky’mon while in the grounds of Draeos?

Yes.

Did you follow this phazer through the portal?

Yes.

Did you follow him to the chambers at the edge of Wild Furs?

Yes. I mean—no. I was following Master Damien.

The answer need not be explained. Cranston injected a second time, tired.

The questions droned on; constant and never ending. Yes or no. Most were a yes and for an hour that was what happened. Did I go to the chambers? Did I read the books? Did I power orbs for the portal stones? Did I have a vision of Ravin. Did I speak to the horsemen tribe. Did I battle with delgori in the north. Did I assist the horsemen in their battle—most the questions were easy to answer. I was surprised they knew any of this. I had been in slumber for three months. They must have gathered this information during that time.

Throughout the hour of questions, I was tired, bored and annoyed. Answering yes if I had met Sheba when I meant to say no and needing them to re-read the question. I didn’t meet her, I had seen her in my visions. And when I did meet her, it wasn’t much of a meeting. I seeped inwardly to La’Kera. Why won’t they help?

They can not, it is as they said. They see no point. You and Creston are consider … un important. But I believe you need to answer these questions if you wish to hold a voice later on.

I don’t see any point. They can have a memory tale. They will get their answers.

Perhaps. But I was blocked from you while you were with Hector. Did you forget.

Course not. I just … hate them right now.

Miss Thorndale? Taylor leant forward. Will you not answer the question or … can’t you answer it at all?

I heaved a disgusted sigh.

Yes. I was given food … it was disgusting and dry. I folded my arms, not caring what I answered. They were not even going to try and help—worse, they wished me and Creston to suffer like this. What good was it coming here? What reason was there?

The question’s droned on. Hours melted away, and when I thought it was over, the tone of Cranston changed.

Miss Thorndale, I believe you have come full circle. He tilted his head. His tone was definitely too happy for my liking. The end of your first year senior, while you are of age to graduate, to leave the grounds and start on your station, but you can not. Due to your Bond being only eighteen months. Far too young to leave the valley.

Er … yeah. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

It has been reviewed that your Mid Year grades were exceptionally high—for a Ryder found at their seventeenth year of learning with no solid training in combat, mână or dragon knowledge.

What could I say to that. It was a compliment and I was sixteenth level in mêlée according to my test five months ago.

While you were band from entering into EzRah for the two years. We have decided to lift the punishment—permanently.

My breath was slow to release. Freed from my punishment. To enter into EzRah at will?

While you were in slumber, Miss Thorndale, and your bond—We, the Chancellors of Teaching have decided to allow you early graduation. You will not need to return to Draeos for your final year and you can remain in the Guild.

I was stunned. Gob smacked—blow me a smoke ring from Drae’Gon—shocked. The Guild. Move to the Guild?

Your bond will have to wait until she is four years before she is of age to imprint the lands, Miss Thorndale that is why we have decided this.

So … I’m to move to the Guild? Won’t you assist us with this curse?

The curse? sneered Angus. Is as we told you. It is incurable. Do you not listen, Miss Thorndale. All Ryders know this. Why do you insist on asking of it?

Why won’t you consider helping me cure it. Find away. There has to be away.

There is none. Most rector-based-curses are timed delayed. Years at most. Yours is binding to your form. While you and Master Creston are fond of one another—many believe you shouldn’t be allowed to remain together at all. Mentor dating a student is prohibited within the grounds.

So … you move me to the Guild and still refuse to aid us?

We wish to aid you, Miss Thorndale, in your training and development as a Ryder. While your grades improved dramatically in the few short months that Lord Balrok took you under his charge. Master Creston’s performance as a mentor fell drastically downwards. He not only left his tutelage for two weeks, while chasing after his brother. He left her side to assist you several times during the last three months prier to your slumber. Your sudden leap into the portal stones and he followed without hesitation. Angus narrowed his eyes with annoyance. While your achievements in your Mid-Year mark were credit to Lord Balrok, we see Master Creston’s actions as a liability to the mentoring society.

He … was helping me. He’s a good mentor to Dawn, I pleaded.

"And yet he spends more time with you, Miss Thorndale. He is a young Master in training, we had hoped he’d learnt his punishment last time. It seems he has not. He is new to the rules, the oath and his code as a mentor. And to allow the two of you to continue your … courting, isn’t advisable."

We’re in love.

Perhaps, Miss Thorndale. But as we have informed you several times already. Your relationship with Mr. Dalton is not our problem, nor is the Curse of Curses. As we were saying. You will be moved to the Guild. It was considered a punishment if we moved you to Alvina. And in recent events—the portal stone being one of them, we think it wiser that you stay within an area you can not run off too at will with little effort.

I … wasn’t leaving.

And yet, you have managed to do that twice. Three times if you count the time before, with your former mentor, when Ryder Connor was taken by a vragon. And now your new mentor, Lord Balrok. While harsher punishment was ruled out at this time for your behaviour and due to the Rector curse, you slumbered too long for such to be made. In truth, the Curse of Curses is punishment enough.

Being separated by an incurable curse is punishment in your eyes.

A punishment one way or another. Yes. But you need not train in the grounds of Draeos. Your mêlée is higher than any other Ryder there, your level of learning—while acceptable and passed can be done here. In the Guild with others … training to be EzanGuards. You will join the Guild of Ryders come the end of your 1st year senior. This will be your home from now on. Your bond may visit you on weekends.

Weekends? You’re … you’re separating me from my Bond and refusing to help me with this curse—and you want me to live here all joyous and jolly. Oh, this keeps getting better and better. I narrowed my eyes in disgust at the walls, as if covered in decade old webs and fury spiders with dust I won’t.

It isn’t a matter of won’t, Miss Thorndale. Lord Balrok will still be your mentor in the day hours—though he will be required on his usual duties to which you will assist him with. You should be pleased. You have officially graduated the youngest Ryder of the lands with only one year training. And you have in a word been honoured to be an EzanGuard. The end of your 1st year senior ends in one week, Miss Thorndale. I suggest saying your goodbyes to all … for you will be kept busy while here in EzRah. Taylor knocked a wooden hammer. The echo was dull as the men shuffled the parchments on the table.

But … I need him. We love each other. Tears blurred my eyes, the three paused in their whispered discussion.

Need him? Miss Thorndale. Angus flipped several parchments, reading something that had been noted Lord Balrok refers to this need … as strength—taking of ones strength.

I … yes. I wiped at the run away tear.

Is this strength—a power? A problem if not taken.

I … Er … I … Yes. Yes. It is a problem. I wanted to scream.

Is it a mână taken from your Bond? asked Cranston.

No.

Does it affect those around you in a way that might make them ill, unwell?

No. It’s … good. I don’t know how to explain it. I just … do it.

And according to Lord Balrok, sneered Taylor. "Master Creston is more susceptible to this … strength taking. He lowered his parchments to fold his arms and gaze down at me with a look of … thought. Is he ill when this happens?"

NO. It’s … a feeling. A dance of souls. Our souls. We do not suffer. Please help us, you have resource to aid us undo this curse.

Taylor and Angus both rolled their eyes with a disgusted look.

"We have already made our case on this matter, Miss Thorndale. There is no cure."

There has to be. Can’t you … try … something. I need him, he needs me.

"Needs? You are a Ryder of the lands. A warrior soon to take on the rolls of all that we do. Honour and guidance. Might and strength. Loyalty of the Bond. And while it is of discomfort that you would be forced apart from your lover, as you state. It is not the first time you have shown these emotions in the court room.

When you were on trial for running away, you pleaded for the Committee to allow a Connor Dalton—a healed delgori—to live in EzRah as if his fangs were normal. Is that not correct? And you showed emotions that he was your love and that you needed him above all else—is that not also correct.

I nodded.

You must answer with voice, Miss Thorndale.

Yes. I said weakly.

"As we see, you may love them, yet you seemed to have moved on rather … hasty considering it was in the forth month that Connor was taken and not even two months later, that your relationship with Creston came to light. Do you see where we are going with this, Miss Thorndale? You are young. Too young to consider this the end of all problems.

"We do sympathise with you, we do. To be forced apart by another’s doing. But understand. We will not assist in the curing of this curse—because there is no cure. Is that clear?" His face was starting to turn splotches of red with anger. He wasn’t about to budge. But I had to