Vanish

Chapter 24

Despite the late hour, I take a bath, letting the warm water ease and soothe my tired and abused muscles. I linger, soaking in the water long after my skin shrivels to a prune, and I admit to myself that it’s more than relaxation holding me hostage in the bathroom.

I hear nothing outside the door. Rising from the water, I dry off and dress, leaving the sanctuary of the bathroom, ready to face Cassian. A hundred different words burn on my tongue, ready to spill free.

I peer inside my bedroom, glad to find him not there. With a shuddery breath, I move down the hall into the living room. He unfolds himself from the couch when I enter the room.

His gaze glides over me, lingering on the wet fall of my hair. Before I can say anything, he asks, “Which room do you want me to have?”

I blink even though that’s so very Cassian. Straight to the point.

He continues, “I imagine you’ll still want to sleep in your room. I can take Tamra’s or your mom’s room.”

Relief floods through me. I can’t deny that I worried about this moment, wondering at his expectations. Wondering at my reaction to him with this new… thing between us.

“T-Tamra’s room,” I supply. Having him spend his nights in my sister’s room strikes me as somehow fitting.

We remain standing where we are, staring at each other, neither moving. And yet words fly, unspoken between us. I fumble with my hands, ending up twisting my fingers until they’re numb, bloodless.

There’s so much I don’t understand — why he’s doing this, why he’s not pushing the matter of intimacy now that we’re bonded. I’m no idiot. Even though I didn’t agree to anything, I know that certain expectations come with the act of bonding. We’re taught the importance of procreation from day one in primary school. The pride must live on.

In the kitchen the ice maker rumbles and I nearly jump at the sudden sound. His eyes dart around like an uneasy bird, looking for a place to land. He’s nervous, too, I realize — or maybe I sense it. A definite first. I’ve never seen Cassian nervous before.

I guess I should thank him, express my gratitude to him for saving me from the wing clipping. The words stick in my throat.

He finally clears his throat. The sound is loud and startling. “I know it will take time for this to seem real to you.”

I can only stare. Time? He thinks time will help me accept? Does a prisoner, an inmate, ever grow accustomed to his cell? Or maybe he thinks in time I’ll start to confuse our connection for something else? Something more?

“I know you’re worried about tonight.”

Of course. We’re connected. He knows the fears stumbling through me, making me jump out of my skin.

“I’ll give you time, Jacinda. I can be patient. We have plenty of time for… whatever feels right.”

So I’ll have a reprieve then. But for how long? How long can I keep him at arm’s length? Oh, Cassian would never force the issue, but how long can I fake that we’re a truly bonded couple before the watchful eyes of the pride? Before Severin.

How long before I cave and do what’s easy, forgetting what I truly want… who I truly am? Forgetting Will.

Will’s face materializes in my mind, and the answer comes to me clearly. Never.

I don’t have to pretend we’re truly bonded for very long at all. I inhale a fortifying breath. One week. Just one week and I’ll be free.

Slipping into bed, I sigh, appreciating the comforting familiarity of my plump pillow. The down-stuffed comforter that smells faintly of lavender surrounds me and reminds me of Mom. The stars on my ceiling glow, even all these years later. They’re still here. Even when Dad is not. How did this happen? How have I lost so much? Dad. Mom.

I turn my face into the pillow and release a ragged cry into its depths. Not Will, though. I won’t lose him, too. And I won’t lose my sister.

Tomorrow. I’ll find Tamra and tell her everything. Everything. No more secrets.

I’ll tell her about Will’s plan to wait outside the pride for me a week from now. I’ll ask her to join me when I meet him. I’ll ask her to run away with us. Come with us wherever we go. We can find Mom.

I tremble a little at the prospect, a little frightened at confessing so many secrets to her… frightened that I might lose her, too. I couldn’t stand that.

I clutch the pillow tighter, trying to convince myself that it won’t happen. Tamra has to be disillusioned enough with the pride to agree to leave. They banished Mom. Almost clipped my wings. And now the only draki she’s wanted for her own is bonded to me. How could she want to stay?

I rub my cheek against the pillow, my hand slipping beneath it — fingers brushing the crisp edge of paper.

Heart thundering in my chest, I close my hand around the slip of paper. Sitting up, I flip on the lamp, anxiously brushing the wet tangle of hair from my eyes so I can see.

It’s just a small scrap really. Something ripped off from an old envelope. Four words stare up at me, written hurriedly in Mom’s scrawling hand.

Remember the Palm Tree

It’s a clue. A hint. I hug the paper to my chest, my eyes straining in the gloom of my room. Mom left this for me. She’s trying to tell me where she’s going. Where I can find her!

And it makes absolutely no sense to me.

Still, it gives me hope. A corner of my mouth starts to curl. Mom’s out there, waiting for me. She wouldn’t have written this down unless she thought I could figure it out.

I tighten my fingers around the slip of paper. I’ll remember. Or Tamra will. And together we’ll find our mother. I’m not beaten. Severin hasn’t won.

I don’t see Tamra the next day. Or the one after that. The week creeps along, and with it my anxiety grows, something dark and shadowy filling my heart.

I forgot it was custom for newly bonded couples to sequester themselves in their house, seeing no one, doing nothing but better acquainting themselves with their new lives together. A honeymoon, of sorts. It’s expected among the pride. Severin expected it, and since I had vowed to act the dutiful submissive, I have no choice but to play my part.

Members of the pride come and go, never announcing themselves. I hear their footsteps, their whispers in front of the house as they leave food and gifts on the porch. Anything and everything to make our time together special.

On our last day of forced solitude I step out on the porch to collect a basket of fresh-baked breads and muffins that I spotted Nidia leaving earlier, and also a pitcher of lemonade someone else had dropped off.

With the basket looped around my arm and the pitcher hugged against me, I catch movement across the street. I hold still and spot the source.

Corbin leans against a post on his porch, his arms folded across his chest. He stares at me as he always has. Smug and determined.

I shake my head and start to turn. It doesn’t make sense why he would still look at me that way. Not after I’ve bonded to Cassian. We’re nothing to each other. Now he has to know that. Now he has to give up his stupid obsession.

Then Jabel steps onto their porch and calls for him. When she sees Corbin staring, she follows his gaze and frowns.

Her voice floats from across the street, ringing with censure. Bonded couples are supposed to be left alone during this time, and I guess Corbin’s intense staring doesn’t exactly constitute that.

“Corbin,” she calls, her voice heavier. When her gaze meets mine she gives me a half smile.

I’ve bonded with Cassian. In her eyes I’ve reaffirmed my commitment to the pride. I’m part of her family now. Maybe that lessens the sting of losing Miram.

She orders Corbin inside. Still, he doesn’t move. Just looks at me in that consuming way of his that creeps me out. But now I’m bonded to his cousin, beyond his reach.

So why? He doesn’t know it’s all a farce. He can’t know that. And yet he stares.

I turn and go inside, my flesh prickling, still feeling his watchful gaze.

Cassian and I eat together in silence, our last meal alone. Then I catch myself and realize all the remaining nights this week will be like this. Him. Me. Alone.

We’ll go our separate ways during the day, performing our duties, socializing, living. But our nights are reserved for each other. My skin shivers, heat crawling deep beneath the skin.

Until, of course, I make my escape.

“Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“I’m going to see my sister,” I answer truthfully, before I can think that maybe I shouldn’t bring up Tamra.

He nods, scrapes the tines of his fork along his plate. “Maybe I should come with you—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I quickly say.

He nods again, slowly, processing. “Okay.”

I stab a piece of fish on my plate. I don’t need him hanging around when I tell my sister that I plan to run away with Will and want her to come with us.

“For now,” he adds.

I look up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

He continues, “I can’t hide from your sister forever. We have to make things right.”

“You think that can happen?” I ask, staring intently at him. “That you can make things right with Tamra?”

He grimaces, shifts in his chair across from me. “I hope so. She’s your sister and I’m your…”

I stare at him, my gaze sharp, cutting. Don’t say it. We’re not that. You’re not my chosen mate.

“We’re family now. All of us.”

I say nothing. Gripping my plate, I rise and enter the kitchen and start on the dishes with feverish intensity.

Cassian joins me. Side by side, I wash and he dries. We work silently, fall into a rhythm. I wince as I think of my parents doing this same thing for years, standing in this very spot. Bonded. Connected.

Only we’re not my parents. Not even close. We don’t laugh and talk. We don’t share stories about our day. I don’t allow that. I feel a certain sadness drifting off him and settling deeply into me, mingling with my own heartache for Will and Mom. And this only makes me madder. I shouldn’t have to feel his emotions. I have enough of my own to cope with.

As we perform our mundane task, I think about tomorrow. When I’ll see Tamra again. When we can talk about how we will leave this world behind forever. A world that steals from you and gives nothing in return.