Alira had let Hruliar whisper his ideas to her as they walked between the two rooms.

Distract him. Ask him questions that upset him a little. Keep him off his guard. When you feel me leave, use your Light to surround me so I can pass undetected.

What are you going to do?

Read his mind. He’s hiding something. Something big. His nervousness isn’t just the pain of that bitch’s betrayal. He’s nervous.

She had agreed and as she sliced the apple, she felt Hrulinar split himself, leaving a shade of himself sitting there, listening attentively. She concentrated on cutting the apple into half as she filled herself with a subtle amount of Light, and careful to keep it from touching him, she encased Hrulinar in it the tiny glow. With a quick jab, the spirit had a small piece of himself inside the monk, completely undetected. Seconds later she felt him reform into his whole self, a disgruntled jut to his jaw.

Now, as Alira knelt down before the small bed, she thought of what Hrulinar told her he had seen. She lifted the bedskirt and reached, drawing out her father’s hammer. The head glowed as she touched it, welcoming her Light. She didn’t want this weapon. It was too heavy, for one. And besides, it was a paladin’s mace and belonged to the order.

She stood and returned to Therin’s room, not bothering to knock as she entered. Hrulinar had a chummy arm slung over the monk’s shoulders, a wry grin on his face. Therin looked anything but chummy. His face was pale and a sheen of sweat had broken out along his upper lip again. His eyes lit up at the sight of the mace and Alira held it out to him.

“Galvyn’s hammer,” she said and let the hefty weapon drop into the monk’s hands.

Immediately, he glowed, the Light greedily greeting his power.

“This is incredible,” he said with reverence. Hrulinar removed his arm from around the monk’s shoulders and with a glare of anger directed at the back of Therin’s head, rejoined Alira.

“Take it back to Devan. He deserves to have it returned. It belongs to the order.”

Therin clenched his jaw as he clutched the weapon to himself, finally sighing and shaking his head.

“Alira,” he said, his eyes still on the mace. “I have to tell you something.”

“I know,” she said before he could continue. “And I’m not going. You know I’m not. I have to get the soulstones.” She shook her head.

“And you don’t understand the time constraint we are under. Even now, Shadesorrow has been armed with ten souls to do whatever she does with them. Even now, she could have sent her witches to track me down using this remnant she left inside me.” She was impressed by her own calm, how she didn’t have to fight a wave of panic at the thought of her plight. Peace had settled on her at some point, acceptance of her path making her brave and steady.

“If you don’t go with me, I have the right to use force,” he said but his face was pained, torn. “Don’t make me do that to you, please.” His face was flushing again, the wine still affecting him. His eyes were manic now, feverish and heated with a drive to live at all costs. The same expression Hrulinar had seen in her eyes as she climbed the burial mound.

“You won’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “You won’t do that. I’m not going with you, but I know you’re a good man and won’t hurt me.”

“But my spurs. My mace,” he almost whined. His face was that hurt boy again. “This is my chance to prove to them, to Devan and Noran and that woman that I’m not the toy they all think I am. I’m so close.” He set the mace down on the table in front of himself and reached to take her hand but she danced backward.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Alira, please. Just come with me. We can explain to Devan–”

“No,” she said and her tone brooked no argument. His face darkened a little before he frowned and shook his head. He closed his eyes and whispered, the soft glow of Light surrounding him and burning away the wine in his blood. The glow did not fade as he opened his eyes and looked at her again.

“Alira,” he said and he sounded more firm now, less of the lost boy he had been a second before. The Light had steadied him temporarily. “You’re coming with me.” He stood and she backed into the closed door, her hand going to the knob.

“Don’t,” she said again. “Don’t touch me.” The fright in her voice was concern for Hrulinar’s safety, not her own, but Therin clearly took it as an accusation against him.

Pain shot across his face at her command. His blue eyes seemed to fill with an angry fire as he watched her frightened, pale face.

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“Everything I told you tonight was true,” he said, confused by her wariness. “I never touched her. I didn’t do those things she said I did! I’m not lying!”

“I know,” she said. “But you didn’t tell me you had that letter. That you’ve had it since we left the estate. That you were tasked with taking me back to Devan for questioning.”

“You’d have abandoned me sooner!” He was suddenly angry, his voice raised. “When I found that note you left, I saw my mace slip away. I saw the future I want so badly disappear. You don’t understand what this means! You have to come with me.” He held out a hand this time, not to take hers but in a plea.

“It’s the only way for me to convince him that I’m not what he thinks I am. That I’m not some stupid child! I can do good things. I can make good choices!” His face was changing emotion so quickly that Alira merely kept her silence and pressed closer to the door.

“Please, Alira. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll get you free from him, from that thing inside you. I promise.” The hand he held out was shaking. His boyish face was drawn, pained, full of the need to be believed.

The longer she kept her silence the more the desperation filled him. In a painful wave she watched him go from determined man, angry boy, hurt adult, devastated child. His emotions were wild as he watched his future slip away, so close to what he thought he desperately needed.

Alira’s eyes blinked, taking in all of the handsome, tall man. He was broken, she knew. She had known that since they had first met. That boy was never given a place to grow up, to heal from the things that had been done to him. He was not making rational, adult decisions. He was making stupid, childish ones based on a singular drive to make Devan love him again, fueled by the need to rise above Mara’s lies.

She looked at him, the way his face could not settle on embarrassed boy or angry man and shook her head again.

“No,” she said and she felt Therin’s Light ignite in response. He let the worry slip from his face as he dropped his hand.

“The Witch Known as Alira,” he said formally, drawing himself up and putting his hands to his sides. “I claim you as an abhorrent, an enemy of the church. By High Lord Devan’s leave, I hereby arrest you.” The Light around him turned his hair into spun gold and reflected in his ocean blue eyes, their depths suddenly unreachable. She felt his heart breaking as he towered over her, but as it broke, his resolve hardened and he glowed ever brighter.

Now. Hrulinar said as he slipped from her body and she filled herself with the Light, careful to sheath the tether between her and the spirit in protective darkness, borrowing from Shadesorrow’s seed inside her.

She let the Light rush across her skin, blinding in its wake. Therin covered his eyes, turning toward the table. His hand landed near the mace and as he brought it up in defence of himself, she opened the door and ran. Her own room was just down the hall and as she sprinted, she used the Light to throw open her door and slam it behind her. She checked her tether once, made sure it was still carefully enshrouded in the darkness, then threw on her cloak and pack.

Hrulinar said he would keep Therin occupied, distracted enough to not chase her. But she worried for him. What could he do that would distract Therin long enough? He was so vulnerable to the Light, and if he was struck down–

Focus!

Shaking herself, she finished gathering her things. She tucked the ring with her mother’s soulsone in her pocket and blew out the candles on the small vanity. As she grabbed her father’s tabard and all that was inside it, she felt a sharp jolt, like a static shock, run through her, emanating from their bond. She gasped and jerked away, but the bundle came undone, its contents thrown across the room. Her father’s beads and a necklace she had found in the chest in his grave rolled under the bed.

Swearing, Alira dropped to her knees and felt for the items. She pulled out her father’s prayer beads and slung them over her neck.

He’s coming!

Hrulinar’s pained voice startled her and she hit her head on the bed frame. Swearing again, she reached back under and felt the chain of the locket that had slid under the bed when she had dropped the contents. A banging against her door told her she had seconds to flee out the window.

She threw the necklace around her neck, letting it tangle with her father’s prayer beads, and left the tabard. The banging at her door continued, the sound of splintering wood telling her she was running out of time. She threw open the wide window and climbed out onto the sloped roof below.

Hrulinar had not rejoined her.

Run! He said in response to her beckon. Just go!

As the door to her room splintered open, Therin breaking through finally, she threw herself off the roof.

Borrowing from Hrulinar, who she could feel was in extreme pain, she changed herself, becoming an owl.

Get to Ohira, she can help us resurrect Erin.

But you–

Go, Alira. Please. This is me begging you, for once, to obey my Divinity, though I am not asking as your god, I am asking as your friend. Go.

Never had he addressed her with such vehement pleading. Never had he thrown away the carefully crafted cool facade of Prince of Beasts. Even when they had been in dire straights, she had known she could rely on his passionate yet steady thoughts to propel them forward.

Friend.

He had said he was her friend. Did she reciprocate that sentiment? She felt inside herself for that tether as her owl’s wings flapped silently. She ripped the darkness off it and felt the coolness of their bond, the leafy vine that twined inside her, filling her with vigour.

No, he wasn’t her friend. That wasn’t what they were at all.

Inexplicably connected, impossibly intertwined, permanently bound together as a single being.

They could never be friends.

She cast a glance over her owl shoulder as she banked around the inn. Therin leaned out her window, his face a picture of distraught horror and disappointment. Without waiting for another word from Hrulinar, she directed herself northward, again, and flew for all she was worth, feeling their tether thin and stretch as she put distance between them.

As your other half, your soulmate, I will do as you ask, Prince Hrulinar.