Zaramir funneled away her pain as he purposefully carved the Runebind as slowly as possible, giving her plenty of time to change her mind if she wanted to before it was completed. Until the last Rune, it could be removed. Though once he finished it, she would be stuck with it forever. Even if it were carved out, it would reappear. He still believed she’d regret it someday, but she had insisted so he continued.

  She didn’t change her mind, however. She sat still and silent as he worked. The only sound in the room was the unnerving sound of knife on flesh.

  The cut lines weren’t deep and even if he wasn’t stopping it, the pain wouldn’t be excruciating. He wished he could have stopped the pain the first time he did this, but he couldn’t provoke the unstable magic with the introduction of the power of another Spark. It would have made it worse. If she was fully destabilized, things would be much worse than a fireball.

  He kept his hand on her shoulder as the last of the cuts healed over, leaving the healed dark lines and curves beneath them. The room was quiet, tense, “Would you still like the other two?” He questioned softly, not sure if she was still upset with him or not.

  She nodded, not helping to ease his uncertainty. He wished the enchantment he put on her clothes still worked with her new form so he could understand what she was feeling. He wasn’t good at understanding the emotions of others. He’d spent so long alone it hardly came up.

  Kyrian had often been forthcoming with his feelings, but they weren’t exactly pleasant. His excitement, obsession, pleasure, anger were all expressed plainly and … emphatically.

  Corabelle was too polite and kind for that, but his own lack of understanding was frustrating at times. He by no means wished she was like Kyrian, but he did wish he could understand her more easily.

  As he finished the final stroke of the blade, he swiped away the last drop of blood with his blade hand. He hovered over his work, the new bind healing over like the others. He was thankful she at least agreed to these two, even if he did think the first would be a mistake.

  With a total of six now, that was far more than the vast majority of Mages would ever see, let alone possess. She had been so adamant that she wasn’t ready for one, but the circumstances had forced her to have these six. The circumstances he’d put her in.

  Six would… or at least should… last her years. She wouldn’t need another to temper her Spark for a good long while, until well into her studies. She wouldn’t need him to give her the next one…

  She didn’t need him for anything. If he gave her high level spellbooks, she could easily teach herself magic. Harnessing her Spark should be second instinct now.

  She didn’t need to be here. She never wanted to be here…

  He knew she despised the maze. He knew she missed humans. He knew keeping her here was the reason all of this had happened to her.

  As much as he desperately wanted to keep her here, he knew he needed to let her go, “Miss Cora, may I ask you a question?”

  Her shoulder tensed slightly as she carefully replied, “Yes?”

  “Do you… Are you at all happy living here?” He couldn't bring himself to ask her directly if she wanted to leave because he knew what her answer would be. “Obviously, I know it’s not your first choice, but if I offered you a different home in the maze, somewhere safe that I would set up so you could come and go from as you like, would you prefer that?”

  He knew the question was idiotic. Of course she would prefer that. The only thing she wanted was her freedom and his moronic deal was the only reason she was here.

  She pulled away from his touch as she turned back to face him, “Where is this coming from?”

  “Nowhere.” He muttered, trying to rebuild the courage to more thoroughly explain.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  The shock of the inquiry shook him free of his trepidation, “Of course not! I just wanted to know if…if you would be happier away from here.”

  Her shocking green eyes bored into him, expression completely unreadable. She didn’t say a word as she stared at him.

  Those unreadable stares drove him mad. Hwe swore he would never read her mind again, and he wouldn’t, but it would be so much less painful.

  Though, he knew what her answer would be, so why was it taking her so long to respond? Did she think he was teasing her? Making some cruel joke? He just wanted to know what he was thinking, but didn’t know if he should speak. So he elected to wait for her to speak first.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  After an excruciatingly long amount of time, she finally broke the silence, “If you had asked me that before I died, my answer would have been yes. Without a second thought, my answer would have been yes. “ She seemed to hesitate for a moment, continuing that painful stare. “Not that this was the worst place I could be but you know I just wanted to be out with…humans. Now though… my people wouldn’t take me back even if I did go back. But,” She gave him a small smile. “Given the circumstances, this is the best place I can be. It’s not perfect, but I am happy here. This house is beautiful. I’m safe and I’m not alone. And, you know, the company could be worse.” She jested.

  He couldn’t even find the humour in her teasing. The tension fell away so quickly he was at a loss for words. He couldn’t believe her response, almost so much so he half thought she was playing a joke on him. However, when her expression didn’t change and she didn’t speak a word otherwise, he realized she wasn’t.

  Relief flooded him so suddenly he dropped his ink blade, the glass vial shattering and leaving a dark blot and tiny shards of glass on the white floor.

  Her eyes widened as they darted to the shattered vial before returning to him, “Are you okay?”

  He threw his arms around her, the shock silencing any trepidations that might cross his mind.

  She yelped in surprise as she lost her balance for a moment, stumbling for a moment before catching herself against the window frame with the one hand that wasn't pinned to her side.

  Much of the time, he was alright being alone. He was busy with work and didn’t mind the lack of distraction, but she was one of the few people in his life he’d enjoyed being close to, and didn't mind being distracted by. He never wanted to lose her. Now that he knew he wasn’t going to, he couldn't hold back from embracing her.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” He nearly stuttered. “I’m more than fine,” He separated himself just enough to see her now more-than-startled face. “Are you sure?”

  She took a moment to respond, baffled, “I’m sure.”

  He squeezed her more tightly, but not too tight to hurt her, as he pressed his forehead into the side of her neck, “You have no idea how thankful I am to hear that.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he laughed, “I could kiss you.”

  Her body tensed in his arms. He felt her heartbeat thunder against his chest, as her breath hitched.

  He began to separate himself from her, apology readied. He shouldn’t have joked. Whatever feelings he had for her were irrelevant. He knew their relationship would never be more than the unbelievable mess of what it was now, whatever that even was. Which he was fine with, so long as she still was happy in this home, he was fine letting sleeping dogs lie.

  Though, as he pulled away, he froze as he heard a word brush past his ear from her lips. His mind took longer than he would have liked to process such a simple word.

  Had there been any sound in the room, her voice, as light as a passing breeze, couldn't have been heard, “Okay.” The lilt to her voice, almost sounded like agreement over acknowledgment.

  He pulled back hesitantly, sure he’d misheard, or certainly misunderstood, “What did you say?” He questioned almost nearly as softly.

  “I said, okay.” Her big doe eyes were even wider than usual, “Okay. You can kiss me.”

  He remained frozen, positive there must be some sort of problem with his ears. Unable to move, his arms were locked around her, firm and still.

  She broke her gaze away from him, face turning a bright crimson, muttering, “Of course you were kidding…” She squirmed uncomfortably, trying to free herself from the uncomfortable situation and his statuesque grip. “I’m sor--”

  He didn’t let her finish the last words, as he finally regained the ability to move. His hands slipped up to her face, holding her jaw gently, forcing her to look at him, as he interrupted her, “Did you mean that? Were you being serious?” He questioned as gently as he could, trying to embarrass her any further. “Or were you making a joke?”

  Her lip quivered slightly, her face turning even redder as he looked up at him, “I wasn’t…” She muttered.

  He was about to ask her to clarify further when she expanded, “I wasn’t making a joke.”

  He pulled her into him without another word. She stood on her toes as his lips pressed into hers with the force of every moment he’d crushed down, any feeling that he was sure would never be returned. She’d made it abundantly clear from the moment they met that she had no interest in him and he had made his peace with that fact early on. He didn’t know when or where he missed her change of heart.

  As her hands slid around his side, under his jacket, gripping into his back, he deepened the kiss, pressing her into the window frame. He slid one hand to her waist the other to the back of her head, slipping his fingers into her braid, the soft hair entangling around his fingers.

  Though as she pressed herself into him with a soft sound of bliss, an excruciatingly nauseating thought invaded his mind, hitting him like a landslide.

  What if she never did change her mind? What if I’m making her change her mind?

  He shoved himself away from her, stepping back a good distance. He felt like he might throw up as he scanned her face for any sign that he had inadvertently taken influence over once again.

  The only thing that was on her face was concern, with an echo of discontent with the interruption, and a pained embracement, as she questioned, “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you again?”

  He pressed a hand into his stomach, the observation doing little to dissuade the intrusive thought, “ No, no. I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well suddenly. I must go.” He couldn’t allow anything like this again until he could be certain he had control over this newfound ability. Though she hadn’t looked as she had when he’d done it the first time, he couldn't, wouldn’t, risk that possibility.

  He turned away, pacing as quickly as he could back toward his lab, leaving her alone and confused in the atrium.