Vanish: A Firelight Novel

by Sophie Jordan

  Was she right? Would this change things? Will’s face rises in my mind. I can’t let this ceremony take any piece of him from me and replace it with Cassian. I can’t. I won’t.

  I lick the last drop of wine from my lips and watch as Cassian drinks from the jeweled chalice, his lips touching the same edge from which I sipped.

  Severin speaks, but I deliberately block out his words, his voice. I’ve attended bonding ceremonies before. I know what he’s saying. I don’t want to hear him speak the words.

  Then it appears. My family’s cache of jewels.

  I fight down the sudden lump in my throat and stare hard at the lockbox, thinking of the amber stone already lost from it—sold away when we were in Chaparral. I feel a surge of possession as an elder’s hand delves inside, riffling among the contents. It’s not his right. Usually a parent of the bonded couple does this, but in this case I’m without a parent.

  Cassian’s gems are next. His father digs inside their family’s box.

  The gems are pulled free at the same time. I blink at the beautiful black pearl removed from Cassian’s box. Perfectly round, it fills his father’s palm. An amber piece is selected from my family’s cache. I distinctly remember every gem in that box and know it to be the last amber left. I know why they chose this one. It’s the stone that most represents me.

  The amber and pearl are held high in the air, displayed before the pride. A gem from each of our family’s caches. Two gems to begin our legacy together. Our own family.

  The lump in my throat grows and no matter how hard I try, I can’t swallow it.

  Together, united, the two stones project a different glow, a different energy altogether. I hear their whispering song and watch as they are placed in a new box. Black lacquer with fiery red coiled carvings etched on top of the lid. This one is ours. Mine and Cassian’s. And I wonder how long ago it was made in preparation for this moment.

  Then it’s time. We must begin our ascent. Our last flight as independent individuals.

  Eyes locked, we lift off the ground and soar. I ignore the twinge in my injured wing and lift, lift, lift.

  Face angled into the cool, wet wind, I luxuriate in the taste of sky again—despite myself. Despite wanting to like nothing about this moment. Flying has always been my balm. I can’t resist the sweetness of it . . . not after knowing I almost lost this when I came so close to a wing clipping.

  My wings work, slap the air, take me higher and higher. It’s as though I’m racing away from it all, straining to get as far from the pride as possible. I close my eyes, savor the speeding wind rushing against my face.

  For a moment, the thought flashes through my mind to just keep going, melt away, vanish into the sky. Never come down. At least not on pride grounds.

  Then I see Cassian, winding through the mist and clouds with me. His great wings gleam darker than the night, powerful sails of onyx with winking undertones of purple.

  His gaze holds mine as we twist and twirl upward. And I know. He knows my thoughts. He knows but his face reveals nothing.

  And then I understand. Feel it deep in my chest where fire and char dwells.

  He would let me go. Escape into the night, disappear into the sifting mist and clouds.

  The choice is in my hands.

  I imagine this. Imagine him drifting back down to the pride without me. Facing everyone, shamed and abandoned. Of course, they would come after me. I probably wouldn’t get very far. Not much of a chance, really.

  Suddenly, he stops. Floats adrift.

  I stop, too, buoyed on the air.

  I face him. Several inches separate us. Night clouds drift below us, above us. Cold vaporous wisps float around us like chilled smoke.

  I catch glimpses of his face through breaks of cloudy air. A flash of shimmering charcoal, eyes like obsidian.

  “It won’t be real,” I call to him. My voice is swept up in the wind, and I’m not sure he heard me until he calls back:

  “It’ll be real enough.”

  Real enough? For him? Is that what he’s saying? Does he think a bond where only one of us is fully committed will be fulfilling? To either one of us? Or is he holding out for that connection to form and tie us together?

  I’ve already lost so much this day. Will. Mom. I glance down. Tamra waits there, far below, as betrayed as I am by the pride.

  I raise my gaze back to Cassian. It won’t be real. This won’t be real.

  I swim through air toward him. It’s the only answer he needs.

  For now, this is what I must do. What the moment demands.

  His eyes soften as we embrace, do what draki have done down through the millennia. His hands rest gently where they touch me. One at my back between my wings, the other on my hip. For all that, his stare is no less intense, drilling into me as if he were memorizing everything about my face, everything about this moment.

  I close my eyes and try to forget. Think only of Will. That I’ll see him again.

  Cassian’s body is rock solid against mine, and I remember that he’s bred to be a warrior. Tough and unyielding, but I feel safe in his arms, not the least threatened by his power, his strength.

  Plastered against each other, we begin our descent. My stomach falls, pitches to my feet. It’s like the dream, the nightmare. I’m falling, unable to lift up. To catch myself.

  I’m falling and there is no help for it.

  Where we ascended as two, we descend as one. That’s the bonding act. That is what we must do. What this is all about.

  I’d always thought the bonding rite romantic, something special I would share with someone one day. Even so, it loomed far away. A distant prospect. But now it’s real. It’s happening to me right now.

  Cassian’s arms hold me as we plummet. Air roars past as we twist in a speeding circle, dropping, hurtling to earth. My hair flies up from my scalp. Even Cassian’s hair tears from his face and flutters like dark ribbons from his head.

  We stare at each other, nose to nose, the howl of the wind loud as a freight train in our ears as we twist and spiral toward the pride waiting below.

  It’s not just him holding me. I clutch him closely. Our legs tangle and slip between each other’s.

  It’s as if we are actually cleaving to each other in this moment . . . as if we’re diving toward our deaths. And I guess that’s the point. The act is meant to symbolize the death of our independent selves and the start of our union as one.

  I don’t breathe. Can’t even if I wished to. We move at an incomprehensible speed, the air too fast to draw into my constricting lungs.

  Suddenly, the clouds ease and clear. The mist and fog loosens. Inches before crashing into the earth’s hard skin, we spread our wings, pull up and set down gently within the ring of stones.

  Together. In each other’s arms. Draki bonded.

  I don’t spot my sister anywhere during the festivities that follow. I’m constantly surrounded, toasted, plied with food and well wishes.

  As if I did not stand at the block a short time ago with cutters at my back. Now I’ve proven myself. Bonding with Cassian convinces my pride, at last, that I’m one of them. Even if they don’t fully trust me yet, they trust the bonding process . . . and they trust Cassian.

  Through the festivities, I search for Tamra, but find no sight of her.

  I need to see her. Need to make sure she’s all right. That we are. My face feels tight, eyes achy.

  “Come,” Cassian murmurs, rising from the long table where we sit. His large hand encloses mine, the palm work-roughened against my skin. “It’s late.”

  Over merry protests we leave the celebration together. But not before I spot Severin, drinking and smiling. Apparently his thoughts for his daughter are forgotten. His gaze meets mine and he lifts his glass in silent toast, happy to have me in his family, in his grasp at last.

  He thinks he’s won. That I’m beaten.

  “Leaving already?” Corbin steps in our path.

  “Jacinda’s tired. She’s ha
d a long day,” Cassian replies in a voice that reveals nothing.

  Corbin glares at his cousin, his pupils vibrating slits. “And I’m sure you’re eager to tuck her in.”

  My breath escapes in a hiss. Alarm fills me as the implication sinks in. Cassian and I are bonded now.

  “Watch your mouth,” Cassian warns, his voice thick, his hand around mine tightening faintly. His anger comes to me full force, heavy as a great gust of fog. And it’s more than anger. It’s possession, need.

  I flinch at the bombarding sensations and tug my hand from his, desperate to sever the contact, anything to lessen the link between us. Is this it then? What Mom spoke of? The connection? Are we forever each other’s emotional barometer? Great.

  Corbin smiles widely and steps aside. “Of course.”

  Reclaiming my hand, Cassian walks a hard line past his cousin, leading us away.

  I follow him, sealing myself in a cocoon of numbness, hoping to keep him out—and me in. My legs move automatically. Only when we step on my porch, do I realize where we are.

  “This is my house,” I say.

  “My father said we’re to live here.”

  I blink and glance around. I’ll live with Cassian here? At the home I grew up in?

  And then I get it. No one else lives here anymore. No more Dad. Tamra’s with Nidia. Severin saw to it that Mom is out of the picture. It’s just me here. And now my bonded mate.

  I stare at the front door like I don’t know it. And I guess I don’t. The house is no longer mine. It’s Cassian’s now. And by extension Severin’s, too.

  A strange new world waits on the other side. A future with Cassian.

  My stomach rebels, roils with acid. No. My future isn’t this. It’s not something foisted upon me. My future is mine. Something of my choosing. Something, I realize, that includes Will. I know that now more than ever.

  I shake my head. How could I have told him that we didn’t belong together? He’s it—the one. The only one. No matter what he is, what I am. . . .

  I’ll find a way to be with him again.

  Cassian opens the door and together we enter the house.

  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 t
hemselves 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.