Free The Midnight Sea (The Fourth Element #1) by Kat Ross Page A

been bonded for more than two years now but I hardly knew him. Yes, I could tell what he was feeling, but not why he was feeling it. Not always. I couldn’t read his mind and he couldn’t read mine. Thank the Holy Father for that.
    We saw each other only at practice. In every other way, the daēvas lived separately from us. They slept apart, ate apart. I prayed at the fire temple, but Darius couldn’t enter it so he prayed by the river—as I knew all too well.
    Rain pounded the roof as I lay there, unable to sleep. I knew I’d have no chance to speak to him privately tomorrow. We were never alone. Finally, I threw off my bedclothes and slipped outside.
    I’d never been to the daēva barracks but I knew where they were. I ran down the hill and through the gardens. It was late summer and the rain had brought out the sweet, heady scent of jasmine. When I neared the river, I saw a sagging three-story wooden building on the bank. I touched the bond lightly, felt for him. A moment later I frowned.
    I’d expected him to be sleeping, but he was on the roof.
    And his mood was not happy.
    I stood for a moment, dripping. I almost went back. I should have. But instead, I found my feet leading me to a rickety ladder that leaned against the eastern wall of the barracks.
    “Go away, Nazafareen,” Darius said the instant I reached the top.
    He lay on his back, staring up at the storm. For a crazy second, I wondered if he had made it. But even Darius couldn’t be that strong.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, climbing out onto the roof. The tiles were slick with rain and I chose each step with care.
    “For what?”
    His careless tone irritated me.
    “For holding you back. I didn’t mean to.”
    “Oh, that.”
    “Really,” I said. “It won’t happen again.”
    “You could have killed us both,” Darius said mildly.
    “I know. I’m sorry.”
    “You still don’t trust me, do you?”
    “It’s not that.”
    I wanted to tell him about Ashraf but I couldn’t. I’d kept it in too long, and the words stuck in my throat like sharp stones. Or boulders.
    Darius turned to look at me for the first time. “It’s because I’m Druj.” He clutched the gold eagle-winged faravahar he wore around his neck with his good hand. An unconscious gesture I had seen many times. It was the symbol of the Prophet. The symbol of the empire.
    “No! I mean, I suppose you are. But you walk in the light like the rest of us.”
    He laughed then, a bitter sound. Since that first flood of emotion at the bonding ceremony, Darius had kept a tight rein on himself. He rarely smiled and seemed indifferent to pain. Sometimes, I suspected, he sought it out.
    “Yes, the magi taught me well,” he said, and something dark and feral in him seemed to stir.
    I squinted through the sheets of rain. “Why are you up here anyway? Was it another nightmare?”
    Darius didn’t respond. I should have let it go, but I suddenly wanted to crack that emotionless shell. It was a stupid impulse, like dangling a dead rabbit in front of a hungry wolf.
    “They wake me up sometimes,” I said. “What do you dream about, Darius?”
    “I don’t remember.”
    “That’s a lie,” I said.
    His walls went up, hard and fast.
    “Do you dream of fire?”
    It was just a guess, but on those times when I woke up with dread oozing through the bond, there was also a sensation of heat, of a wild, untamable power that would consume me if I let it.
    “What do you want, Nazafareen?” Darius demanded hoarsely.
    “Just the truth.”
    He stared at me, dark hair dripping, and the look in his eyes made me want to run.
    “All right. Sometimes I hate this.” He held up the cuff around his wrist. “If you really want to know, sometimes I hate you .”
    I wasn’t ready for the anger that burst through the bond then. It staggered me. I put a hand to my head, dizzy, and tried to keep my balance. But my feet slipped on the rain-slick tiles and a moment later I was sliding toward the edge.
    Darius