The Bound (Ascension #2)(9)

She didn’t have an answer for that, and Cyrene didn’t like the way that made her feel. She had done enough with a married man—a married king—that she didn’t want to think about repercussions.

“No answer,” he said with a sigh. “You’ve chosen your life. Now, I’m choosing mine. Good-bye, Sera.”

She swallowed hard. Tears were streaming down her face once more. “No matter what I am, I am always yours.”

“What are you?” he asked desperately.



“What are you?”

Cyrene groaned incoherently.

“She’s waking up!”

“Wha—”

“Child who walks in the Light,” a voice whispered in her ear, “tell us, what are you?”

“I am yours.”

“Mine?”

“Whatever I am, I am always yours.”

“But what are you that can shine so bright?”

“Doma. I am Doma.”





“Wake up, child. Wake up.”

Cyrene’s eyes fluttered open. The face of an angel—heart-shaped with large almond-shaped golden eyes and pouty pink lips—hovered over her. Her dark hair was long, to her waist. She was dressed in a floor-length white gown that shimmered and flowed effortlessly. She looked wise beyond her years.

“Farewell, child,” she whispered as she stood. “Avoca!”

Another woman walked into the room, and Cyrene gasped. It was the woman from the woods. She was as beautiful as Cyrene had last seen with gold-spun hair and liquid blue eyes. She had an unmistakable innocence about her, despite the fact that Cyrene knew she was a fierce warrior.

“Yes, Healer,” Avoca said. She touched her hand to her lips in a show of deference. She was dressed in leggings with a loose shirt and a jacket contoured to her shape in a camouflage of greens that matched the forest along with soft brown boots. Her clothes looked the worse for wear.

The healer nodded and then exited. She looked like she was floating more than walking.

Cyrene glanced around at her surroundings. Her room was a nondescript wooden structure with smooth, rounded walls and a green cloth covering the entrance. She was lying on a small bed with delicate white sheets. The room held little else for decoration besides a string of colorful glowing jars hanging from the ceiling. Everything smelled earthy and fresh.

“What’s going on?” Cyrene asked. “Where am I?”

She tried to sit up but hissed as pain washed over her.

Avoca rushed to her side. “Take it slow. You’ve gone through quite an ordeal. You were lucky we got you here in time.”

“Where am I? Where are my friends? Were you there with those…those things?”

“Your questions will be answered in time. You have an audience with the Queen.”

“Queen?” Cyrene gasped.

“Yes. Now, up.”

Avoca put an arm behind her back and slowly assisted Cyrene into a sitting position. The pain was there, but it did seem that her body was remembering how to function, lessening the impact. As a unit, she turned her body to the side, slid her feet to the floor, and stood. She was barefoot, and the floor was cool to the touch.

For the first time, Cyrene realized that she was no longer in her blue Byern gown but a loose-fitting white dress, similar to the healer’s. It was more like a shift, and she blushed at the shape her figure took under the thin material.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Destroyed,” Avoca said without emotion. “Now, let’s go.”

She disappeared through the door without further preamble, and Cyrene hurried after her. As soon as she stepped out of the room, her mouth fell open. This was unlike anything she had ever seen. She was currently in a forest village. Homes were carved into the giant trees surrounding her, bridges were strung among the branches, and vines dropped down to the ground where music drifted up toward her. From her vantage point, she could see people dancing and eating around a bonfire. She had walked right into some strange woodland festival.

“Come on,” Avoca cried, exasperated. She grasped Cyrene’s wrist and pulled her toward a bridge.

“Where am I?”

“The Queen will decide if you receive answers.”

“You brought me all the way out here, and you’re not willing to tell me where I am?”

“No.”

“My companions—”

“Don’t bother.”

When they reached the other side of the bridge, Cyrene pulled up short. “Answer one question! I have to know where I am, how my friends are, what is going on.”

Avoca barely batted an eye. “You are the mystery wrapped in light. When the Queen deems you worthy of answers, you shall receive them.”

Cyrene huffed. “You were there…with the creatures. Were you the one who saved me?”

Her downcast eyes told the truth.

“How many died?” Cyrene asked.

Avoca took a deep breath and then met her eyes. “All of them.”

Cyrene brought her hand to her mouth. But before she could get more of an explanation, Avoca was on the move again.

Cyrene wasn’t sure she was prepared for more answers. She swallowed hard and kept her head held high as they meandered the twists and turns.