Bonded: Three Fairy Tales, One Bond

by Michelle Davidson Argyle

  She stopped in her tracks, the connection between them wavering more than before. “Your entire race? So... you use us?”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder. His lips flickered into a smile. “In a way, yes, but the human also learns and grows beyond anything they’ve ever experienced. It’s a mutual relationship with equal share in joy and experiences. The human must be willing to take part in this bond or it can’t be performed.”

  “Are you saying you want me for this bond?” The idea of the bond tempted her, but she had no idea how it would be performed. The very thought of it frightened her, and the energy between them snapped like a dead branch.

  Oken took a step back. “Not yet.”

  She looked around the dense grove of trees and realized how alone they were. “Then what are we doing?”

  He cast down his eyes and knelt on the ground. As Elden had done, he stretched out his hand parallel to the base of a tree, and the ground opened. Roots lifted toward him. She watched him absorb the energy, the magic, the warmth. Whatever it was, it was beautiful and white and powerful. He looked up at her and smiled.

  “Imagine you had to endure our kind of hunger as well as your own. That is what a very complex bond between us would mean. It’s taxing for a human, and not a decision you should make lightly.” He searched her face for a moment as he continued to absorb the light. The air turned frigid. “Once you bond with me, it can stay simple or grow complex, but even if you wished for a complex bond between us, you must become a healer first, if a healer is what you wish to be. All healers must start simple. Your father was bonded with one of us when he became a healer.”

  “My father knew about you?” She shook her head in disbelief as his words sank in. She wanted to know what a complex bond would feel like, or any bond for that matter. The connection between them slowly came back, wrapping around her as she thought of her father bonded with an elf. “I don’t understand. Was he unfaithful to my mother?”

  He shook his head. “No, not at all. Although a healer possesses the ability to focus and control emotions, elves were the ones who pushed this ability into healing, so a bond must exist between the two. Your father loved your mother very much, but he knew she would never understand the choices he had made. She would view his bond with a female elf as a form of deceit or inconstancy. Like many humans, she wouldn’t understand, and so, as every healer has done, he kept us a secret.”

  So many secrets and mysteries. She breathed a sigh of relief now that she was getting some answers. More than anything, she was beginning to understand her father better, and that was no small thing.

  “Why did he die?” she asked. “Healers are supposed to live longer than others. Is that because they are bonded with you?” She pulled her cloak around her as the air turned colder. It was as if Oken was absorbing every last drop of heat around them, but the light from the roots began to fade. He finally lowered his hand and took a deep, satisfied breath. She liked the way his hair fell across his brow, the way he blended with the forest and only his beautiful face and skin seemed to set him apart from the other living plants.

  “Healers live longer because of the bond, yes. Even without our help, they are able to heal themselves, subconsciously. This allows them a longer life than other humans.”

  “That’s why I didn’t die as a baby.”

  He nodded and stood to face her. “You were born with a gift, Issina, and it’s your choice what to do with it.” He leaned forward until his nose almost touched hers. She breathed faster the closer he got to her. “I’ve known about you for a very long time. I’ve watched your heart grow into something beautiful. I believe you’re ready for this. The tree is proof.”

  The tree! She had forgotten about the tree, its sparkling branches tempting everyone to reach them.

  “The tree is yours. Every healer has a symbol, and yours is a tree. Your father’s was a tiger he had to hunt and kill. Your own challenge is to reach the tree’s golden fruit. When you’ve done that, and also bonded with me, you will have become a healer.”

  She wondered how any bond was performed. She blushed at the idea of physically bonding with any man, human or elf, especially Oken. She suspected it would require more than a kiss, and Edryn’s description of lightning and warmth flashed through her mind. Her body flushed. “You wish to perform the bond right now?” She wanted to pull away from embarrassment of her attraction to him, but her very soul resisted.

  “Very soon, yes.”

  “What will happen? What does a human do when they’ve bonded with an elf?”

  “It’s up to the human. Some choose to help us create, train, and rule over the seasonal sprites and other creatures who complete necessary cycles. Some, like you, only need a simple bond in order to complete themselves as a healer. Some fall in love and only wish to be together.”

  Her heart pounded. Fidgeting with her hands, she asked, “Seasonal sprites?”

  He stepped back and lifted both his hands, cupping them together as if holding an invisible ball. Light formed between his hands. A soft hum vibrated in his throat as the glow on his skin ebbed. A tight knot formed between his eyes. The light grew brighter between his hands, and when he finally opened them, it swirled around them like a burst of stars. When it dissolved, Issina gasped. A small winged creature lay in his hands. She was naked with waxy wings and deep red hair. She blinked her large eyes at both of them.

  “Is that a sprite?” Issina whispered.

  “Yes, an autumn sprite. She’ll usher in the changing season, as do all the sprites in their turn. With the earth’s warmth we create these exquisite magical creatures.” He took a deep breath. “It takes much energy and focus. Not all of us can create them. Without them, the earth would be only fire and ice, a place where no life could exist. They create balance, just as you will create balance with your own kind as a healer, and eventually with me and the rest of the elves. You see how everything is connected?” He smiled and nodded a polite hello to the sprite cradled in his hands. She smiled back, giggling. “This one will fly to the others where she’ll begin to learn how to control the abilities I’ve given her.”

  He gently nudged the sprite forward, and she stood and opened her wings. In a moment she was in the air, her wings glowing through the night as she flew away.

  “I had no idea,” Issina whispered. “So much magic.”

  “Try not to think of it as magic.” He stood close enough that she could smell his sweetness. “It’s everything surrounding you—your own energy as well. Some beings possess the ability to control that energy better than others. That is all.” He shifted his feet and then studied her face. “I must admit, Issina, I’ve waited for this for a very long time. I’ve come to care for you. I want to be with you, but only if you wish it as well.”

  Of course she wished it. She briefly thought of Braeden. He seemed to be slipping away from her.

  Oken moved closer, but seemed hesitant. She was hesitant too, her entire body growing warmer by the second. He cared for her. She suddenly understood why Edryn had cried when Braeden expressed his affection. It was unbelievable to feel such emotion radiating from another person, so intensely directed at her.

  He shifted his feet again. “This affection isn’t necessary, but it would turn a simple bond between us into a complex one and bring us together in beautiful ways.”

  Tears glazed her eyes. “This is so much to take in,” she whispered. “You are the kindest, most beautiful being I’ve ever met, but you must have noticed my earlier feelings for another.” She looked away, ashamed. “Doesn’t that bother you? My father was in love with my mother. Didn’t that bother the elf he had bonded with?”

  “I suspect those feelings you speak of are not as strong as you think. Besides, your father had the choice to create a complex bond with his elf-mate, but because that requires affection, he never went through with it while he was so in love with your mother. I believe he planned to strengthen the bond when your mother passed on from her natural
life, but he died first.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. This new information about her father melted away some of the frost around her feelings for him. At the same time, she cursed herself for taking his life.

  “I feel you’re ready for the bond, Issina,” Oken said, “but you’re fighting it.”

  She trembled in front of him, wondering what it would be like to need the earth’s warmth as well as food. “Does the bond mean I need what you need?” She motioned to the trees.

  “No, you won’t need the nourishment we do as long as the bond remains simple. A complex bond connects us even when we are apart, but if you choose to keep it simple, it will connect us only if we are physically near. For you to begin your transformation, we must only connect a few times throughout your life—unless you want more than that. It’s different for every bonded couple, as I said. If you want to be with me more often, I wouldn’t complain.”

  He gave her a sweet half-smile, and she breathed faster, almost laughing with joy. A moment later, other thoughts shoved away her giddiness. She kept her gaze on him, but he seemed to disappear as she saw her past filled with Sybil and Edryn and Odele, how they had pushed her down so far that all she had ever known was the earth at her feet. Deep inside herself, past the complacency and acceptance of what she was, she longed to rise through earth and reach the sky. She saw the tree growing through the house, ripping through floors, spreading its branches to the clear night, and she wanted that freedom and strength as her own.

  “I want to be a part of this,” she whispered, and opened her eyes. “A part of you. I feel closer to you than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  He smiled. Relief flooded his face. “Then you’re ready, except for one thing. I spoke earlier of how well you handle your emotions, but there is one emotion you must suppress while we perform the bond—the anger you harbor for your family. They have hurt you deeply. I sense it trembling within you, a beast aching to break free.”

  She held her breath. A beast. She remembered its fierceness in her chest when she had slapped Sybil. It had burned inside, writhing, coiling, a poison that killed the very plants she touched. She hung her head.

  “I don’t know how to suppress it,” she whimpered, staring at the dark soil. She saw tiny roots there, so thin they were almost invisible. The grove seemed to close in on her, every tree leaning over like a giant, taunting. The roots became a switch to slice through her skin. The trees became Odele and her sisters, their eyes narrowed and fierce.

  Odele’s words came back to her. Sybil wants to become something beautiful, a grower, something beyond herself. You have never aspired to anything.

  “I have,” she answered. “I want your beauty, your power, your confidence.” She fell to her knees and touched the roots. “I want you to love me.”

  “Give them a chance to love you,” Oken’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I know you can do this. There will be many bonds in your life, but perhaps the bonds you don’t choose are the most important.”

  She looked up. He was blurry from the tears in her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. “I will try my hardest to suppress the anger.”

  “Then let us begin. The bond ties you to me and no one else. Accepting your abilities as a healer means you are sworn to help others of your kind—that your emotions will become potent and possibly dangerous if you lose control of them, but that is unlikely.”

  She nodded as he helped her up. She imagined the wound her father had healed on the man shot with an arrow. What would it feel like to help another in such a way?

  “You’re ready,” Oken said with a smile, and gently embraced her. His arms around her felt heavenly. “For now, we’ll keep the bond simple so you can become a healer and not have to worry about anything else. All you must do is embrace me and focus. Let me inside your mind, keep your courage, but if you must, you can leave at any time.”

  “All right.” She looked around the grove and realized the trees surrounding them were the same as those she had seen so often in her dreams.

  Oken’s arms tightened around her. Warmth. There were no words. She wrapped her own arms around him. He was solid and soothing. She didn’t doubt his affection for her now. It radiated from him, and she wanted to return it.

  Oken’s forehead touched her own, his breath hot on her lips. She fought the urge to kiss him. Her mind spun in other directions as she closed her eyes. Energy rushed through her body, pressing her closer to Oken than before. She felt connected to him, as if her soul was twining around his like a vine. The connection she had felt before snapped into place and tightened. A relieved sigh left her throat as the earth seemed to fall away.

  Inside her mind, light bloomed into a forest where her father hunted a tiger. Immediately, her bitter feelings for him surfaced, but she pushed them away as best she could. He was her father. A healer. Like she could become.

  The tiger’s stripes glowed orange through the trees, and then it fell when an arrow pierced its heart. Her father wept. Then he was in the garden holding her as a baby, more tears on his cheeks, his thoughts filled with the tiger and arrows and how her birth had stolen Odele’s magic. Odele’s voice sounded in his head. You must destroy her for my sake. She stole everything. His heart burned with fury, became an arrow, pierced Issina’s heart, but it didn’t stick. Her own instinctual strength fought the attack, and now she tried to fight it again, but grew weak.

  “No,” she gasped, and tried to wiggle out of Oken’s embrace. He pulled her closer and sang into her ear. It was the same music from the rain.

  She saw the tree next. The sun had risen and men were still trying to climb its trunk. They had brought a ladder to reach a lower limb, which stretched out beyond the house. Straddling the limb, they attempted to stand and climb the rest of the way, but an unseen force pushed them backward—one after another after another, the air knocked from their lungs as they fell to the ground. They rose and shook their heads in confusion. Odele tried next, but fell before she even reached the overhanging limb.

  They brought a taller ladder. The sun inched higher in the sky. Braeden removed his cloak and hat. His shirt billowed in the morning breeze. His arms were strong. One step, two, three. He would easily reach the branches. Four steps, five, six, seven, on and on. Upward. He stretched his arm and touched a golden apple, a smile on his lips. He said, “Edryn, this is for you,” and wrapped his hand around the apple. Just as he began to pull, the same unseen force pushed him backward. He was higher than anyone else had climbed. When he hit the ground, his last breath left his lungs. Edryn screamed.

  Issina gasped. “No!”

  She strained against Oken’s arms. His voice became sweeter, changing from song to speech. “Issina, these are things yet to come. As a healer, you have the ability to sometimes see future events. You can prevent them if needed.”

  Whimpering, she grew limp in his arms, but her forehead remained against his. She tried to focus on their connection, the strength between them, but doubt crept in the way.

  “The tree is mine,” she whispered. “All of this is my fault. I don’t want to cause any more death. I killed my father. I killed—”

  “Your abilities killed him, not you. His own anger caused his death.”

  “No more. I don’t want this. I don’t.”

  “Keep your courage. Please try, Issina, for one more moment.”

  He appeared in her mind, and this time when she reached out she could touch him. He embraced her as he was embracing her now. They were on a white shore, the smell of salt in the air. It was neither dark nor light, a serene landscape stretching forever. Here, there was no pain, no anger. It was soothing.

  “This is where you must go to heal,” he said. “Hold to it. Stay with me.”

  For a moment, she relaxed, but then the tree appeared again. She saw Braeden’s hand around the apple, and he fell. The worst part was the terror in Edryn’s scream, her heart breaking. That sound broke Issina’s heart too. She felt the bond between her and Oken snap
into place, and without wasting another moment, she ripped free of his embrace and ran from the grove.

  The sun had begun to rise by the time she reached the house. Her breath was cold in her lungs. She was weak, but a different sort of strength coursed through her veins. She felt connected to the earth, as if fluid roots stretched from the bottom of her feet into the soil. The tree was dazzling. Most of the crowd had disappeared, including the king and queen, but many remained, their eyes still trained on the branches.

  She slowed her quick pace to a walk. She had to admit that her own fingers itched to touch the branches, but not from a desire for wealth. She felt pulled toward it.

  “There you are!” Odele yelled. “Look at the house. The roof has collapsed. We have nothing.” She marched toward Issina, stopping for a moment to peer into her eyes. A curious expression crossed her face, but it lasted only a moment.

  “Mother, I’m sorry about the house. I promise I’ll do what I can to fix it.”

  “Hmph. I doubt you can do that. Nobody has been able to reach those branches. I think it’s about time I tried. It’s growing through my home, after all.”

  “Oh, no, please don’t!” Issina rushed forward, remembering from her vision that Odele would fall if she attempted to climb. Maybe if she prevented her fall, Braeden’s would never happen. “Please, let me try.”

  Odele folded her arms and turned to the tree. “Be my guest.”

  The crowd watched as she approached the tree. Braeden stood next to Edryn, his cloak on his shoulders, his hat resting at a fashionable angle on his head. She would do anything she could before he took both off and tried to climb the tree himself. She saw only one ladder. She wasn’t too late if the taller ladder wasn’t here yet.

  Slowly, she removed Sybil’s cloak and laid it on the grass. Sybil’s expression flinched with anger, but she said nothing as Issina turned to the house. The roof had indeed collapsed. Pieces of it were scattered across the chicken yard, and the chickens were pecking at them. Someone had removed Juniper from the stable and guided her to a patch of grass away from the wreckage.