Is he just trying to train me, or is he also trying to win my heart?
Rhys sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the crackling fire.
I cleared my throat.
“So, what’s next?”
Rhys continued to stare at the fireplace, his irises glimmering in the flickering light.
He replied only after several minutes. “I want you to be safe for what is to come,” he said, his voice deep. “Most witches lose their minds before they even come close to succeeding.”
Although I’d heard about how difficult it was to become a Channeler, I’d never understood what was involved. Rhys, Julisse, Arielle and Isolde were the only Channelers among us.
Rhys glanced at me briefly before returning his gaze to the fire. “It helps,” he continued, “to have something to cling to. Someone to cling to. To place your faith in. Without that, you feel like you’re lost in oblivion. Holding onto sanity is like trying to grasp hold of sand even as it slips between your fingers… I remember what it was like.”
I felt more and more uneasy with each word.
“Most witches get lost and never find themselves again,” he continued. “They lose their ability to feel anything but pain and paranoia.”
I wondered then if Rhys was one of these people. Sometimes his passion and desire were almost tangible—like when he’d kissed me in the rain a few hours ago. Other times, he felt distant. Although he proclaimed love to me, I didn’t know if he was just remembering what he’d felt for me before he became a Channeler.
“So, uh, you had Isolde to keep your faith in?”
The shadow of a smile crossed his face.
“Yes. I had my aunt. That’s how I pulled through. But even then, it was difficult beyond measure.” He turned to face me again. “But you see, the stronger the bond is, the easier it will be. Being Isolde’s nephew, I have a natural bond with her. But it’s obviously not the same as… a lover, for example. It would have been easier had I had that.”
I averted my eyes to the floor, feeling uncomfortable beneath his gaze.
“Of course, you are already bonded to me,” he went on. “Physically. But mentally, I know you’re still not. And that is what will cause you problems once the process starts. I can guide you through this, but only if your mind becomes one with mine.”
I stared at him, my mouth drying out as his words sank in.
“And how do I know what you’re saying is true? How do I know you’re not just saying all this because you want me to love you?”
He chuckled. “I would have thought that you’d know me better than to suspect I’d mix up my own personal agenda in something as serious as this.”
Remembering how quickly he’d dismissed his own sister’s death, I did have trouble doubting his intentions.
The only guaranteed way I can survive this is by falling in love with Rhys. Thoughts of Kiev filled my mind. But how? And what if I lose myself to him before I ever make it out the other end?
Although Rhys still hadn’t explained what this mysterious “process” was, I knew that I wouldn’t be the same person after it. I would be like Rhys and his family. Blindly devoted to reviving the power and so-called glory of our kind. And if I wasn’t like them, the process wouldn’t have worked and I wouldn’t have gained the powers I needed to break free from him.
It seemed like an impossible situation. In order to be strong enough to free myself, I needed to lose myself. But once I’d lost myself, would I still even want to break free?
I realized then just how desperate I was.
Even if my life ends up becoming worse, I just can’t remain stagnant like this any more. Staying as I am now is guaranteed ruin. At least if I succeed at this, I’ll have the ability to overcome the bonds that tie me now. I just have to pray that I’ll remember what led me down this path to begin with…
“I’ve been trying to make it easier for you,” Rhys continued, picking up a glass of blood and taking a sip. “Giving you advice on how to stay out of trouble so I don’t have to punish you. I’ve been trying to express my own feelings for you. All to make this process easier.”
I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining the idea of being in love with Rhys. A few months ago, I would have been screaming at myself to stop. Now, a part of me was wishing that it was easier for me to fall for him.
“Of course,” he said, “you don’t need anybody. You could go through this all by yourself. But the chances of you losing a piece of yourself are much, much greater.”
He placed his glass down on the table and looked back at the fireplace.
“What is this process?” I asked. “You still haven’t told me.”