I stared at the chains on the wall by the bed. They had a faint luminance that was both beautiful and all too familiar. Syrin shifted on his feet, his hand still in mine, and the chains glowed slightly brighter. Did he cage people down here?

  That man had been screaming. Was he chained? Syrin shifted again, like he was uncomfortable. His fingers burned against mine.

  His touch was fire.

  No. His touch was… Cold tightened in my chest, and then flame chased it away.

  “Trina?”

  I looked up at Syrin. His face was worried. Maybe he was realizing what he’d done, bringing me here to lock me up. “Are there always people in this wing?” I asked quietly, staring at the chains. “Is that where you got the idea for these?” I said, lifting my hands.

  Syrin stiffened. “I—” He was quiet for a moment. I didn’t look at him. “There are always some who are more difficult to cure. People who are dangerous, even to the healers trying to help them. Some infections take time to treat. Other curses are complex to unravel.”

  “So you restrain them.”

  Syrin’s hand tightened on mine, fingers burning like guilt come alive. “It’s the only way to save them without killing them.”

  “Of course,” I said, voice hollow.

  He wanted to contain me. They left me out of the planning. Hadn’t told me what would happen, all so Syrin could chain me here. I’d be another in a long line of doors to treat. I shouldn’t let him touch me.

  No! This was wrong. Syrin was—

  Space! I just needed space. If I could just step away for a moment, then I could think this through and get my bearings. I could go to the window alone, try to catch a glimpse of the city through its thin opening. Wouldn’t that be better?

  “Syrin, I just need a second to think. Please? Can you let go?”

  Syrin’s expression fractured. “It’s… better if I don’t. The infection is…” He bit his lip. “I—”

  “This room is small. Can’t we just stay close?”

  His shoulders curved. “Touch is safer.”

  “But just for a moment? Do we really have to—”

  “No,” Syrin said sharply. “I can’t… It’s not just… I’m actively holding it back.”

  Something in me went cold. That wasn’t what he’d said before. Not exactly. I shifted to face him. “Explain. Now.”

  “It’s…” He looked agonized. Then the words all came out in a rush. “I didn’t want to scare you, but I can’t… I’m holding it back, but it’s so hard to judge when I’m not in physical contact. It got worse when we arrived. And I… I don’t want to burn you.”

  “You lied,” I said sharply. Lies. It was all lies, wrapped up to ensnare me.

  “No!” His grip loosened. “Maybe.” He looked down. “I withheld.”

  “You didn’t trust me.”

  His breath hitched. “Trina—”

  “You lied. You just wanted to bring me here and chain me and—”

  “And what? Trina. This isn’t you!”

  I glared at him, tugging at his grip slightly. “You lied. You had to hide the plans, but this? Hiding how bad it is?”

  “Perhaps trying to protect you that way wasn’t really protecting you.” Syrin’s voice broke this time. “But I never wanted to chain you. Just protect you if I lost control.”

  I froze. “So, not for my benefit, really.”

  His shoulders curved inward. “No, it is, but… Maybe I was trying to protect myself. I thought if you panicked, then I would, and I’d lose control.”

  My chest tightened, and the stone room felt far too small.

  Syrin’s grip shifted, loosening slightly. “I want to trust you, Trina. I’m just not always certain I can trust myself.”

  The words hit like the strike of a hammer on an anvil. He didn’t want to chain me, but he would anyway. He’d leave me here in this room, trapped in chains behind stone walls.

  For my benefit? Was that really true? I was strong. I didn’t need him monitoring me like some child, restraining me like he owned me. We just needed to think this out like rational people. Away from each other.

  I loosened my grip on his hand, and Syrin immediately held tighter, his fingers burning my skin. I hissed in pain.

  “Sorry! Sorry!” he blurted.

  I glared at him. “Let go! I need space!”

  His expression fractured. “I… I can’t.”

  I tried to tug away from him, and the chain between the cuffs suddenly tightened, forcing me to still.

  “Syrin.” My voice was cold.

  Afraid. He was afraid. Afraid of my independence, afraid of—

  Wait! Syrin hated—

  My gaze flickered back to the golden cuffs on the wall. Then I looked back at Syrin. He looked on the verge of panic. His glow shifted, flashing between gray, copper, and almost blue-silver that I hadn’t seen before.

  See? Guilty. Angry at me for pulling away. Grieved that I wouldn’t fall under his control. And the blue-silver I hadn’t seen before? It had to be something unique to this. Judgement, something in my mind whispered. And it all clicked.

  Judgement. He thought I belonged down here. He was grieved that he’d lowered himself to kiss me. To hold me. My stomach twisted at the thought. Maybe I would vomit again, because gray was the pain of loss. It was him drowning inside. Syrin would never—

  No, that was all a silly thought. He did want me. Of course he did. Every kiss, every touch. That had been real. The blue-gray? Not judgement. Desperation.

  He knew I could leave him. I’d refused to bind myself to him. So he’d tricked me. He was terrified. I could see it in his eyes. He’d chain me to that wall and keep me for himself. That’s why it hurt when he let go. To force me closer to him when I was finally seeing the truth. It was gray for shame. Copper for anger that I wouldn’t obey now.

  “Let. Me. Go,” I said slowly.

  “Trina, please! You know I can’t. The infection—”

  “Let go!” I said. I ripped away from him with all the strength I had. The moment the contact broke, cold washed over me, wrapping around my stomach like a vise. Then it swept out, and agony swept towards my head. It was like a brain freeze, but a million times worse. I gasped, doubling over.

  Then Syrin’s hands were on my back again, and warmth swept through, pushing back the cold. “Can I… I need to touch you. I’m sorry.”

  The warmth felt so good that I somehow felt myself leaning into him as I shook. He took my hand again, and my stomach rebelled. This time it didn’t stop. I tried to jerk away from him, toward the bucket in the corner. His hold tightened. He shifted, carefully keeping his hold on my hand as he nudged me forward. He grabbed the bucket and held it between us.

  I heaved, but nothing came out. Again. And again. It was just a faint trickle of liquid that finally emerged, and something dark. Something—

  Cold seared at my chest. What was I doing? Leaning into the person who chained me. I was disgusting. I quivered there for a second.

  Syrin set the bucket down, forcing it away with his foot, and pulled me closer, arms encircling.

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  It was working. He was forcing me nearer. How was I supposed to think like this? In the arms of my captor? Could I not handle a little pain?

  No, the cold was—

  The cold was him. It was almost like an addiction, that warmth. He’d hurt me just so he could make it better. He’d be the only answer. He wanted it that way.

  He was trembling now. Of course, he was. His power was light. To make cold like that had to be difficult. He was forcing himself to the edge to keep me. I could attack him while he was weak. He wouldn’t expect that. Mom had taught me. A quick elbow to the head, and I might knock him out.

  I shifted on my feet, preparing. A quick stomp to his instep, so he’d release his grip. Then I could—

  Heat flared again inside me, the pressure against the cold pressing painfully. My arm tensed in preparation. Wait! This wasn’t—

  But the desire to escape the fire burning inside me, hurting me, was so strong. I slammed my foot down, and Syrin let out a cry, but instead of following through, I lunged away from him. Idiot! Something inside me shrieked. I was supposed to remove him!

  The cold hit again, rushing across my body like a form of pure desperation.

  Then Syrin’s arms were around me again, his eyes squeezed shut, and his breath coming in gasps. For the first time, I could feel exactly what he was doing. The battle going on inside me wasn’t just some pressure gradient. It was him. The heat shoved again, almost flaring, and I stiffened.

  Then it faded back to a pleasant warmth. Syrin shuddered against me, eyes tightly shut. The pressure shifted wildly inside me. An invisible battle I was only now seeing clearly. Lights, he’d been fighting it all day. How was he still standing? He hadn’t rested since the first flare up, and—

  Cold welled up, and I felt like I was drowning in shadow. Heat flickered through again like a bolt of lightning. There and gone just as quickly, but I wasn’t drowning.

  I wasn’t free either. He’d chain me here. He was breaking. I was too much. Cursed. Infected. He’d leave me. I looked down at my hands. They were entirely black. Gone. Too far gone—

  He let out a little whimper that I knew wasn’t voluntary because he stiffened as soon as it came out.

  See? He couldn’t heal me. Just holding back the tide was breaking him. His breath hitched again, and I felt the pressure inside me shift, heat building and building until I gasped. Syrin’s arms tightened around me, and I felt like he was just trying to hang on.

  Cold nipped at my feet, and they went numb. Syrin was trembling now in a way that made me concerned he’d just collapse.

  He would collapse. He was weak. He was never capable of saving me, just lying. He’d claimed that he’d have more control in Kirath, but it certainly felt like less.

  My hands were a void of shadow. I couldn’t feel my feet.

  “Trina,” Syrin said, voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I can’t wait any longer.” He shoved a band of leather into my hand. A bite strip. No way. I’d only seen those in movies. Syrin couldn’t seriously be suggesting—

  The warmth turned into fire, and I shoved the leather between my teeth, biting down hard.

  Fire swept through me, but Syrin’s glow didn’t flare. Not even a flicker. Like now he could contain it, and every bit of his light was being poured inside of me. The fire burned hotter. Tears streamed from my eyes. I didn’t dare look down. It felt like every part of my body would be a blackened husk.

  I shuddered, collapsing, and Syrin went down with me. He didn’t even flinch when my arm swung, whacking him against my will. Then, suddenly, coolness flooded in. Not cold like the shadow, but like the Light was trying to combat its own fire, like Syrin was trying to cool me down. He shuddered against me. He was actively sweating now, hair damp against his forehead.

  The heat surged again, and my fingers dug into his arms too hard. I felt something coat one of my nails. Blood. Relief from the heat flooded in again just as Syrin’s skin under my hands became almost too hot to touch.

  I flinched back. Syrin hissed, and his skin flared gold. The gold raced along his arm, encasing it, then suddenly the cuffs on my wrists slammed together.

  Black leaked from my fingers, spiraling towards the bleeding scratch on Syrin’s arm.

  Vines of the Light lashed towards me. Syrin swore. Another wave of heat swept through me, and everything went dark.

  Pressure along my back was the first thing that registered, warm and banded, like arms wrapped around me.

  Then a frantic voice sounded in my ear. “Trina?”

  I blinked. Everything hurt, and the cold… It lodged in my chest. I waited for the anger to seep in, but it didn’t. The shadow didn’t spread. It stayed, and I felt… maybe I felt like me?

  I blinked again, and my eyes finally focused on Syrin’s face. He looked… utterly exhausted; his arms trembled like he’d drop me any second.

  “It’s not gone,” I mumbled.

  “I know, but I can’t…” A tear ran down his cheek. “I’m too…”

  “You’re too tired,” I said softly.

  His glow turned pure silver, and he wouldn’t look at me. I lifted my hand to turn his face back to me, but as soon as I saw my fingers, I froze. I flipped my hand over. Instead of shadow, there was only tan skin, like the shadow had never existed in the first place.

  Mercy, that had been so close. I had almost—I shoved that thought away as tears ran down my face. No shadow. I’d be fine. Probably. I twisted my head to look at Syrin. “What did you do?”

  Syrin’s arms gave out, and I collapsed, flinching as the cold of the stone bit into my knees. A shuddering breath left Syrin as I righted myself.

  “I pushed it back,” he whispered. “The infection is barely there now, more like…” His eyelids drooped. “More like a…” His words trailed off, and suddenly his head lolled to the side. I lunged forward to catch him, and he suddenly stiffened, jolting awake again.

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “Not sorry,” I said as his weight settled against me. “You did fantastic. My hands aren’t turning into shadow anymore, and I can—I’m not—”

  “Not worried I’m going to cage you?” he murmured.

  “I—I’m sorry, Syrin,” I said, voice breaking. “You were just trying to help, and I—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  His tunic brushed my cheek as he trembled against me, then finally said, “I know.”

  I helped him shift back, settling him against the stone. His head bobbed for a moment before resting on the wall.

  I stared at the floor as if I could find meaning for what had just happened in the patterns of the gray and pink floor. “I pulled away,” I whispered. “I almost lost myself.”

  “Trina,” Syrin’s voice was sharp. “You did well.”

  “But I—”

  “Given the infection’s progression, it’s a miracle you didn’t attack me.”

  “I did! And you—”

  He lolled his head to look at me. “I barely had to use the chains. You were fighting it.”

  I hugged my knees. “I couldn’t tell what was me and what was shadow.”

  Syrin hummed, eyes closing. “Learns you, and yours was fast. Smart.” The words were heavy, as if it took all his concentration to say them.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  “Tired.”

  “Do you want to move to the bed?” His eyes fluttered open, and he stared at the bed like even that movement might be too much.

  Carefully, I crawled back to settle next to him, and his breath caught when I touched his arm. “Sorry!” I said, scrambling away.

  “Come back,” he murmured. “Just surprised me, considering…”

  Considering that I’d been trying to get away from him five minutes ago. I ran my hands down my arms, trying to push those memories away. Heat and cold. For some reason, it felt like I could still feel the pressure in my body. Maybe it was the Light holding the infection back.

  “Trina?” His voice was strained, like he was worried it was all starting again.

  Stone scraped as I slid back next to him, muscles aching, and he immediately collapsed against my side.

  Lights, he was still shaking. I brushed my hand through his hair. “You haven’t rested at all since the infection got bad this morning, have you?”

  His shoulders shifted slightly in the tiniest of shrugs, and he buried his face in my shoulder.

  “You should have told me you were holding it back. What it cost.”

  He tensed. “Didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Well, I’d rather worry.”

  For a second, the only sound was wind whistling through the narrow windows, and I thought he’d fallen asleep; then he let out a soft huff of air.

  “The honesty thing before was true,” I pushed. “I’d rather know. Truth over protecting me. We’ll deal with it together, okay? If I’d known how bad things were, maybe I would have been more prepared to fight it.”

  A shuddering breath rattled through him.

  “Got it?”

  “Yes,” he whispered softly.

  “Good.” I brushed my hands through his hair again, and he shivered. He looked so tired. I bit my lip. “Syrin, can you even…”

  “Walk?” he supplied. Then huffed a laugh.

  I blinked. Seriously? He was laughing now? I ran a hand down his back.

  “Probably,” he said with a long breath. “Light might help if it decides I’m in danger.”

  I snorted.

  “Likely will be,” he added.

  Great. So we were banking on almost dying again. Wonderful. I wasn’t sure I wanted the Light in control. The memory of those vines of gold lashing at me was too recent. “I don’t know if the Light likes me much at the moment.”

  Syrin adjusted, leaning into me further until his hair tickled my neck. “Likes you. Just got confused when you hurt me. That’s why I had to stop. Fighting on three fronts was too much.”

  “How can you be sure it likes me?”

  He let out another hum. “I like you.” He shifted again, the fabric of his tunic bunching against the rock. “The Light wants me to be happy.”

  “But it tried to hurt me.”

  “It struggles with nuance. Sort of like a child, but I think I convinced it now.” He relaxed further against me, his body heavy.

  That wasn’t that comforting. So how did it decide? I adjusted my position, and pins and needles shot through my leg. “Syrin?”

  “Mmm?”

  “How long were you expecting to wait?”

  He hummed again. That wasn’t an answer.

  “For my mom?”

  “What?” His head lifted slightly.

  He wasn’t even processing my questions anymore. “Just rest,” I said softly, hands trailing through his hair again.

  He collapsed against me again, his warmth curling around me. His breathing changed first. Not all at once, just a subtle hitch smoothing out into something deeper and more even. His weight settled more fully against me, no longer held stiffly in place, but heavy in that way that only comes when someone stops bracing for impact.

  “Syrin?” I whispered, just to be sure.

  No answer.

  I held back a snort. I had never imagined our tower escape going this way. Not in a million years.

  “Guess you needed this more than you were willing to admit,” I murmured under my breath.

  He didn’t stir. Lights, how long had he been concentrating for? I tried to count backwards: an hour here, four or five on that couch after I woke, a few before that. Could he really have been keeping the infection at bay for over eight hours?

  His glow dimmed to a soft, muted gold, no longer flickering, just… there. Present, but no longer straining. His head slid a fraction lower, cheek pressing against my collarbone, and I felt a warm puff of breath ghost across my neck. One arm tightened reflexively around my waist, then loosened again, fingers slack.

  I slowed my breathing, afraid that even shifting might wake him. My fingers kept moving through his hair on instinct, gentler now, careful not to tug. He made a quiet sound, barely more than a hum, and his shoulders sank another inch.

  Yeah. He was out.

  I stared at the wall for a long moment, listening to him breathe, feeling the steady warmth where he was curled against me. He was actually pretty heavy, which I supposed made sense—he was all lean muscle. I tried to shift slightly, but realized it would be impossible. I was stuck. Instead, I just slumped into the wall a little more.

  The cold inside my chest stayed calm, held at bay, not fighting, just… contained. I stared down at the cuffs. Still there.

  And I didn’t know the plan. And I had an exhausted Keeper. This was turning into a disaster, but I wasn’t becoming a shadow monster anymore. I’d just have to be content with that. I took a deep breath and settled in to wait.

  Mistrusted (Mistworld Series, Book 3)

  by NeoRyu777

  When given a choice between right and necessary, what is the best answer?

  Trust is a resource she’s running out of.

  Mistbound is now available on Amazon!

  Mistwarped is now available for preorder:

  https://www.patreon.com/c/Mistbound