Vanish (Firelight #2)(57)

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 themselves 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.