Page 37 of To Fight and To Fold

She nodded and tucked her hands behind her back. “I won’t touch anything unless you allow it,” she promised.

His smile turned to a grin, and he let out a soft chuckle before leading her to a desk in the middle of the room. “Sit here. I’ll gather what we need.”

“A prince waiting on me. Who would’ve thought,” she… teased. By now maybe the novelty should have worn off, but it would never cease to amaze her that she—Aaryn of Evergale, of all people—would have ended up here, in a castle, becoming friends with a prince.

“Maybe I’m more giving than you think.” He returned the jest with a wink, and Aaryn’s cheeks turned bright pink. Thankfully he turned away to look through the shelves, ending up at a newer standing shelf added to the corner. When he returned to the desk once more, he placed a small book in front of her.

“This… this is the account of a Tethered who was recovered after a battle.”

She accepted the booklet as offered, expecting something like a diary. What she found was more equated to a report, a coroner’s entry.

“She… died?” Aaryn asked, heart aching for a person she’d never met.

Prince Jarrick was as serious as she’d ever seen him. “She died during the battle.”

Aaryn swallowed, ignoring the tightness in her stomach, and read.

“Former Tethered Astrid was recovered… Cause of death: battle-related injuries.”

“Skip to the notes,” Jarrick told her.

Aaryn let her eyes drift down, and read, “It is worthy of note that the scar on the left palm, worn by every Tethered, had been slashed through. We hypothesize this is an act to sever the connection between—the wearer and their dragon.”

Her palm ached in recognition as her mind reeled. She clasped her hand into a fist as if to protect the marking. The pain of accepting the scar was nothing compared to what she received in return: the station of a Tethered, physical proof of her tether to Starspark. She couldn’t imagine the agony of that connection being severed.

“That’s so… cruel,” Aaryn breathed. How much of this did Rose know?

“Astrid disappeared with her dragon. One day she was just… gone. It was several years before we found her again, on the opposite side of the battlefield. They’d… done something to her.” Jarrick shook his head as if to remove the images from his memory. “Like she’d been replaced with a completely different person.”

“Was her dragon there too? On the battlefield.”

Jarrick’s gaze was unseeing. “I heard the roar of her dragon even within the bunker. I was seven. According to the witnesses, the dragon fled in a rage."

Aaryn sighed shakily, this new knowledge settling about as well as spoiled fruit.

He blinked, as if coming back to himself, and cleared his throat.

“We don’t know their aim. They take the dragons; they sometimes take the Tethered. But we don’t know why or where. All we know is how the Tethered find their way back to us: dead, on a battlefield, with evidence of their tether forcibly removed from them.”

Aaryn’s hands shook as she placed the ledger back on the desk.

"Forgive my forwardness when I say Astrid—her outcome—is part of the reason I wish to keep you safe. I don't want this to happen to you."

She could think of nothing worse than her tether being ripped from her. The idea that she’d never feel Starspark again? Even with this distance between them, she knew he was out there. Just the idea that it could be taken away…

“Aaryn.” Jarrick’s hand curled gently around her wrist. “Ease up,” he said, and she glanced down to find her own nails had left crescent-shaped pools of blood on her palm. His gaze leapt to hers. “Great Hoard, breathe, Aaryn!”

Only then did she realize her breaths had become labored, manual. The air wasn’t reaching her lungs, and no matter how much she gasped, it didn’t matter, she couldn’t⁠—

“Aaryn,” Jarrick said, his voice hard, capturing her attention. He cupped her face, drew her eyes up to him, and moved his lips. “Breathe. In—out.”

Aaryn lifted her hands and placed them over his, following his directions. It was an eternity later when she felt her breath under her own control again.

“Okay?” Jarrick asked, and Aaryn nodded, dropping her hands. When he pulled away she saw a splash of red on the back of his hand, and she reached for him.

“Wait! I think I got… something on you,” she said, cheeks flaming as she realized she was holding his hand. Her skin was damp with sweat where he had held her.

“It’s alright,” he said, and drew a kerchief from his pocket, dabbing the blood away. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Are you feeling alright?”