The Bond and Other Curses || Book Two

CHAPTER 17 - ORION

Over the last three days, I had searched for some sort of magical element in the Palace and came up empty. So, when Tritteon's plethora of information directed us to one of the massive, floor to ceiling paintings, some real excitement finally drove its way through me, lowering the volume on whatever war was raging inside Tritteon.

The painting was a realistic depiction of what looked like a long, elegant ballroom. Twenty-four archways, twelve on either side, and gold, glowing sconces occupied the length of the room and twelve, huge chandeliers sparkled across the ceiling. Everything was set in metallic gold tones and a thick, gilded frame covered in flowers surrounded the entire thing. Enchanting didn't feel like a strong enough word to describe it.

I flexed the hand with the rings and pad, waiting for Tritteon to go first.

He looked at me. "Ready?"

I nodded, too excited to speak.

He paused. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not allowed to be excited about things now?"

He gave me a small grin. "I guess I wasn't expecting it."

He placed a gloved hand over a seemingly random gold rose among the thousands that adorned the massive frame, and stepped inside the picture, instantly becoming a part of it. But his gold-toned image moved.

"So cool!" I squeaked, pressing my own palm to the rose. A warm current rushed up my arm—the paintings way of telling me it was allowing admittance. I jumped up into it and the only way I could think to describe the sensation was something sucking against every inch of my skin. The hair on my arms prickled, my skin tingling pleasantly, and when I looked down at the crescent of exposed skin on the back of my gloved hands, they were a shimmery, gold-yellow color. "This is so cool!" I said again. But my voice sounded muffled, like I was talking into a pillow.

"We need to stay close together," Tritteon said, his voice distant, though he was only a few steps ahead of me.

His hair was so gold here—glittery even. An overwhelming urge to touch it hit me all at once. I rubbed my chest, pushing the feeling down. But the memory of how it felt—the warmth of his skin, his intoxicating eyes—fought back.

I swore under my breath. "Get out of my head," I hissed, grateful for the paintings muffling ability. The feelings lessened slightly, leaving a tight knot in its place.

Tritteon looked back, his brow scrunched in discomfort, his knuckles against his own chest. "What happened?"

"Sorry," I said quietly, looking down.

I could tell he wanted to press further, but he didn't. That growing tightness in his own chest was fear.

I followed him through the fifth archway on the right. That sucking sensation ran itself over my skin once more and we found ourselves in a new hallway, lavish gold designs on dark blue walls and a blue and white checkered marble floor, and one lone, black door at the end: Rilyin's office.

Tritteon stepped aside to let me lead again. I started toward it, but his gloved hand on my arm stopped me.

I whipped around as a shield surrounded both of us. "What are you doing?" I shot a glance at his muscled chest where I felt an escalation of fear and anxiety.

When he rested a shaking hand on my shoulder, I was too startled to remove it.

"Orion," he said hoarsely, struggling to meet my eyes.

"If you're about to give in to this cursed Bond and proclaim your undying love..."

He ignored me. "If..." he swallowed, "...if I keep my promise, will you promise me something?"