Onyx Blood [True North series book 2/3]

I didn’t let go of him until Thoridor cleared his throat from the doorway. “Let me show you to your chambers,” he said, and we both followed him down the hall.

Warrian’s calloused hand was wrapped around mine, and although the touching of our skin caused no sparks, it still granted lots of comfort. Thoridor led us down several flights of stairs, until we reached what appeared to be the palace’s dungeons.

I shot Warrian a look. “Are we staying down here?” I whispered nervously.

Before he could answer, Thoridor turned around. “I reside down here,” he said, “the hot water doesn’t quite reach up to the towers. It’s better to stay down here, for bathing, and heat in general.”

I plucked my dress sleeve nervously. The floors were damp, and the walls overgrown with what appeared to be moss. The air, although warm, seemed moist and smelled of algae. Thoridor continued down the hall and halted in front of an open door.

“War, this is you,” he said.

Warrian brushed a light kiss onto my hair and disappeared into the room. We walked down the hall a little further.

“Serin, you’ll be in here,” Thoridor said. I reluctantly joined him in the door opening.

I peered into the room, and was surprised to find the room much nicer than I had expected. The air was clear and dry, and smelled fresh. The furniture was simple —just a large canopied bed and a tall armoire— but the walls had been painted in the most captivating way.

There were murals all over the room, and they somehow seemed to tell a story. Not by what they depicted, but by how they had been painted. Low by the ground, there were child-like scribbles — stick figures, and basic drawings of flowers and animals. Above them, there were slightly more advanced drawings, and they seemed to be more coherent, animals chasing each other, Ardanians hunting, the Terrestrial palace… and then there was the top layer.

The top layer felt different. The drawings were darker — more emotional. Although no fighting was pictured, the paintings felt violent, and heinous. I couldn’t stop staring at them.

“I’m sorry,” Thoridor mumbled, as if he was just now noticing the art, “these might be a bit much. I’ll get you a different room.”

I ignored him and stepped into the room. I approached the wall, and brushed my hand over the painting as I explored them.

“They’re beautiful,” I breathed, “did you make these?”

Thoridor shook his head. “Morai did,” he said, “we spent a lot of time here after my parents broke their bond. I went out to train and she stayed here and made those.”

I looked at the higher paintings. “How old were you two when your parents separated?” I asked, “these look like she was a little older when she made them.”

Thoridor came to stand by me, and looked up at the drawings. His proximity made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“We were young,” he said, “she made those higher ones after our first Sorael, I think.”

We stood there, side by side, studying the walls for a few moments.

“Come on,” Thoridor said softly, “I’ll find you somewhere else to stay. I hadn’t noticed before, how dark those murals really are.”

I had to force myself to stop staring at the paintings. “It’s not the paintings,” I said, “I could look at them all night. But I’d—”

“You want to see the sky,” Thoridor cut me off.

I stared at him, trying to figure out how he knew. How he knew something I hadn’t, until he had spoken those words. I did want to see the sky.

“Come here,” Thoridor said, holding out his hand, “I’ll show it to you.”

And as if I was under a spell, my hand lifted, and found his. His ungloved hand. My fingers brushed his skin, and I was suddenly engulfed in those heavenly sparks again. I closed my eyes in ecstasy, and when I opened them again, we were no longer in the dungeons. I was pressed against Thoridor’s chest as we sped through the maze of hallways. We stopped abruptly when we reached a window in a tall, dusty passage between two towers. Thoridor unlocked it, and pushed it open. Then he climbed out.

He looked comically large crawling through the narrow window, but he did so effortlessly. Thoridor stepped onto the roof of one of the lower levels, and held out his hands. I hesitantly lifted myself onto the windowsill. The view from the window dizzied me. I could see all over Aquatic Ardanis, all of the little houses, and the wall of water surrounding them. I traced my eyes up the water, all the way until I found the tube of air above Aeloria’s tower. The connection to the rest of Ardanis, and the way to supply Aquatic Ardanis with fresh air.

“Come on,” Thoridor whispered, “I’ve got you.”

I took his shoulders —I didn’t think getting hypnotized by the pleasant sparks would be the best idea when climbing out of a window— and Thoridor wrapped his hands around my waist.

I was immediately dizzy again. “Casual touches,” I hissed, “you’re going to make me fall to my death.”

“Right,” Thoridor said, and adjusted his grip. He lifted me onto the roof beside him.

“We’re going to walk over there,” Thoridor said, pointing in the direction of Aeloria’s tower. “We’ll get the best view from there.”

We carefully crossed the pointed roof that connected the two towers, and stepped onto a platform near Aeloria’s tower.

“Look up,” Thoridor whispered, and I did. The sight was mesmerizing. The tunnel in the water showed the star-speckled sky — a perfect circle of nighttime.

“I came out here all the time as a youngling,” Thoridor said, “I was scared to death of Aeloria catching me somehow, but I loved seeing the sky. I hated being trapped down here in the water.”

I looked at Thoridor, and pictured him as a child, longing to be free.

“Your beast,” I mumbled, deep in thought, “it has no aquatic adaptions, does it? Is that because you don’t belong here, or is it a genetic predisposition?”

Thoridor shook his head. “I don’t know how it works entirely, but it’s been mostly terrestrial all my life. It only grew wings after I came of age.”

He looked at me. “He’s dying to come out. I could take you for a ride? Fly you up to the Aerial palace, if you want?”

For a second, I wanted to say yes. Looking up at the night sky, I wanted nothing more than to soar into it, fly amongst the stars — but I shook my head.

“We shouldn’t,” I whispered, “you shouldn’t shift. And besides, Warrian is still here. We can’t just leave him.”

Thoridor’s face clouded over with disappointment. “Right,” he said, “I understand. Let’s go back.”

“Thank you, though, Thor, this was nice,” I said, and my hand instinctively slid down the side of his arm, until my hand found his. I interlocked our fingers, and was immediately overcome with surges of passionated sparks again.

I continued my sentence as soon as my mind cleared a little again. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you, with the mating bond and all, having to hold back. But I appreciate how you’ve been trying. And this — seeing another side of you, it… helps.”

Thoridor flashed me a dazzling smile. “Good,” he said, and squeezed my hand gently, “this is all I need to keep going.”