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He didn’t know where he was going. His only certainty was that his mind needed to wander, to lose itself in the surroundings instead of the memories that had resurfaced. Corridor upon corridor, he just kept going, welcoming the emptiness around him and the steady rhythm of his steps. But not even that was making any change on the chaos going inside his chest and his mind. Even having pushed and suppressed the memories back, the damage was done. The pain, the sorrow, the anger, all were simmering through his blood consuming his heart and poisoning his mind. If nothing would work to control it and soon it would take over his body too.
It had happened before and sometimes he could identify the triggers, fire and the smell of burn flesh were the firsts he force himself to control. This time he had been foolish enough to think that a happy memory wouldn’t lead to that. That somehow his mind would shield him from the torturous remembrance of his parents being burned alive. The only comfort, was that they had been together in the end, holding each other’s hands and to wherever their ashes had flown they had merged together becoming one with the wind. His father had mouthed not to look, but if his parents had find the strength to stand tall even when they were being humiliated in a pathetic excuse of a trial, he would do the same. He would be the son his parents raised him to be. Even if that meant looking while his family was murdered.
His mind was circling around that memory. Around the hundred possible scenarios of how he could have prevented it, changed it. A tiny little voice sometimes liked to remind him that maybe he should have joined them. But the rage for revenge was quick to silence that. Usually he could take that rage and use it to plan different kinds of ways to inflict every ounce of pain the marked ones felt, but this time it only fueled his body. Adding so much energy that it seemed that it expanded beyond the physical limits of his body. It was the first time his signet had been that out of control, cocooning around him and releasing in waves. It would have been harmless and completely oblivious to anyone hadn’t been for the illusion of the empty hallway that had faded before him, without any voluntary acknowledgment on his part. Or hers.
Her grace was so dissonant to the full on war going inside his chest. Everything in him screamed, like her calmness and control were an affront. Yet his body stopped to admired how fluid her movements were, how her back bended, how her outstretched arms bowed slightly, how her right leg draw a circle in the air and then stopped with admirable elegance. He could feel her eyes on him, studying and evaluating. It wasn’t the tense lines of his body or the unusual stern look on his face, but the complete torturous war in his eyes that gave him away. She didn’t say anything or move while he stormed past her. But a few seconds later faster foot steps echoed across the corridor. Toward him? Away from him? His mind was a whirlwind, he couldn’t register anything past the thundering of his heart now that he was caught in the middle of this.
When he felt the hold on his flight jacket, his anger lashed out, eager for a target. It was always easier to fight a physical threat than your own mind. She blocked him, mostly because half of his senses were overcharged and his attack plan was nonexistent. It took all his remaining self control to stop, focusing purely on the brown eyes going over him.
“Guards.” She mouthed. He didn’t respond or move or acknowledge, simply stared. The same self control that was keeping him from lashing out again was the same that had kept his breathing even and his body moving, but not anymore. His control was slipping. Not even Cuir’s attempt to engulf the bond was helping. “Bodhi?” She must have been whispering, because her voice could barely overlap the ravaging rhythm of his heart. He felt his body move, but couldn’t exactly understand how or to where. The shadows that surround them under the archway were not enough to conceal them, but were enough to feel safe. “You’re wielding. I can’t put up the illusion.” He closed his eye, focusing on finding the bond, tracking it back home. “Shit. Trust me.” Was the only warning before she pushed him against her. One of her hands had guided his left hand into her flight jacket. Then quickly she coaxed his head into her neck, making sure to cover whatever was still visible of his face and neck with her hand. He breathed in the mix of whatever flower scent was on her hair and lingering sweat, while she arched against him.
“Fucking hell! Don’t you have rooms?” An approaching voice scolded.
“5 minutes and we’ll go.” Her chuckle was playful, easily selling the sight of just another couple sneaking around. While the other voices faded away, still mocking and scolding the unbearable nerve of the rider’s cadets, they stayed like that, somewhat embraced, somewhat standing against each other. “Should I get Xaden?” He shook his head still buried on her neck. “Garrick?” He shook his head again. “Imogen…?”
“Gods no.” He lifted his head, meeting those brown eyes that kept studying him.
“Tell me what to do. What helps?”
“Nothing.” He pushed away and started to walk again. The bond was strengthening, he could almost reach for control again. But most parts of his mind were still submerged and swirling around the unbearable pain. Her footsteps followed, a lot more steady than his. “Go. Away.” He managed to say.
“Not happening.” Her voice was calm, not even a hint of apprehension. Or concern. Or judgment.
“Get the fuck away from me.” He turned around, snapping at her. How he manage to produce a sentence was a surprise, since his heart thunder so fast and so intense he couldn’t even think. Probably it had been mainly rage and pride, desperately trying to cover his weakness.
“I won’t leave you to go through that alone. You or anyone else in the quadrant. Now, you can spend your energy trying to fight me, but I rather you focus on your breathing.” She took a couple of steps closer. “We don’t have to speak. You don’t even have to look at me. I’ll just… stay. So you know you’re not alone.”
Something in those words weaken part of the panic that had a grip on his mind and heart. He wasn’t alone. The bond to Cuir became stronger and even if his dragon wouldn’t speak, the calmness and security pouring through the bond was welcoming as fresh air.
That was what he needed, air, wind so cold that his body couldn’t ignore the bite of it. He kept going, down the corridor, left, down the stairs, right, another corridor, door. The clear objective made it easier to focus, to regain control of at least his breathing. She was still following, a few steps behind. Still steadier than him.
The cold winter air hit his face without mercy, the shock of it making his body to stop the taunting emotional overload ravaging his head. He brace himself on the wall to his right, taking a few steps forward before leaning against it. The cold from the air and the stone felt like a blissful distraction.
She closed the door and stood against it, giving him space and time. But also guarding it. He had seen her fight, she was good in close combat. Her signet of creating illusions, sometimes even making them solidify, was also added value to her ability of defense and contain threats. Nothing would go through that door if she wished it.
With every passing minute his breath became more even, his heart steadier. The haze that had been in his mind gradually clearing. But it would take longer for his body to lose the tension.
“If you tell any one…” he let the threat linger on the words. He could easily challenge her and win. Plan an untimely death sounded prematurely though.
“Why would I?” She dare, still looking beyond what lay ahead. “In less than two years, we’ll fight alongside each other. I always thought it was stupid to cultivate such hostility within our ranks.” She was not wrong. It had been a theme of discussion between Bodhi, Xaden and Garrick multiple times in their leadership meeting. Maybe it was the rebellion relic that gave them a different sense of camaraderie or the experience of living under Fen Riorson’s approach to leadership.
She walk up to him, studying him, his eyes, his face, his posture. “It goes both ways. I won’t tell, if you don’t.” It was more than a simple deal. Two of the most important currencies in Basgiath were secrets and favors. Maybe he could make this work in his favor, he just had to play his cards right.
“Like dancing in the hallways is anywhere as damaging as…” he didn’t say it. He couldn’t bring himself to admit to whatever it had been… Having such a weakness would make him a liability and that was something he couldn’t afford, especially considering the expectation and standards he held himself on.
“It doesn’t matter.” She leaned against the wall too, still a couple of feet away from him. The way she had talked to him, given him space and time, he would have to analyze it later.
They stayed out in the cold for some time, still lock in contemplating the trees or the never ending darkness. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, it allowed him time to think it through, analyze what he knew about her, ponder his next move. He could play this, he could play her.
“Thanks.” He murmured. She nodded in response and gave him one of those long evaluating glances again. He felt exposed, but held her gaze defiantly. Whatever she saw, whatever she found that time seemed to be satisfactory enough to push off the wall and walked to the door. With one last nod and a light smile she was gone, just as fast as she had appeared. He let his head fall back against the cold stone. At least now he had something else to think about. Or someone else.