Nessian

The Bond

It was nearly dawn by the time Mor and Viviane convinced me to put down my glass so I might sulk home. 

I conceded purely because I no longer wished to talk about my feelings while they listened... pitying me. I did, however, refuse their offers to winnow me directly to the townhouse.

The prospect of my own company for the walk back seemed most appealing, and there was a disarming beauty in the sleeping streets of Velaris. 

A slow climbing sun was peering out above the sloping rooftops. Its rays shined on the glistening Sidra in an array of pinks and golds, and the city was quiet save for the murmurs of awakening birds.

Over a year and a half had passed since the now slumbering streets had run rampant with Hybern soldiers, yet the scars from that day still reared their ugly heads in the early morning light. Scorch marks marred the cobblestones below me, and a few buildings were still being rebuilt from nothing more than rubble. 

The scope of that battle's destruction I knew not from experience but rather the horrid recountings of the inner circle.

Even still a shiver went down my spine at the thought of such horrors invading this peaceful place. I realized with a pang how deep my fondness for Velaris truly ran. My lack of surprise at the revelation shocked me.

I was beginning to feel at home amongst a people I had once hated.

Shaking my head, I attempted to clear my murky brain. At last, I turned the final corner to my destination. The marble townhouse sprawled before me, capped with a green copper roof and pale chimney to match the dozens lining the street before it. 

Upon reaching the iron-wrought fence I fumbled with the gate's latch until finally managing to swing it open.

Having shed my heels a few blocks back in favor of giving my achy feet a much needed reprieve, I was met with the smooth stone pathway. My feet scuffed along as I lurched passed blooming flower beds and lush grass. The yard was filled with the daffodils Elain had planted, and I smiled despite myself. With a sigh, I opened the front door. 

I was met immediately with a familiar lemon-and-verbena scent that seemed to caress my tired bones.

Suddenly all too aware of my weariness, I stumbled along the richly carpeted stairs. My massive bed, unmade and adorned in a medley of quilts and duvets, flashed in my mind's eye. Yet, once I reached the landing marking the top of the stairs, I paused.

On my right, a mere two doors down, was Cassian's room. The flickering yellow light of a candle pooled from underneath his closed wooden door.

Maybe it was the alcohol in my system, or maybe it was Mor and Viviane's advice at Rita's, but I found my still bare feet carrying me toward his room. Each stumbling stride taking me ever farther from mine.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

My head still pounded with the phantom pain and anger of our earlier exchange, yet I reached for the handle boldly without bothering to knock. It didn't even cross my mind to wonder whether he had company.

I pushed open his door to find him alone in bed, half-naked and dozing with a worn novel in his lap. His chin-length hair was a disheveled mess, and the breath-taking features of his face, the cheekbones and strong jaw that seemed to be chiseled from stone, were softened with sleep. 

Tattoos curled along the muscled panes of his shoulders and torso, and his inky wings were tucked in tight behind him.

My eyes danced dangerously lower and hovered over his broad, tan chest.