Page 109 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

I may not know everything about the Fae realms, but I've read enough to understand the gravity of bonds and marriages among their kind. Wars have been fought over less —— entire kingdoms have fallen for the sake of claimed mates and contested bonds.

"Then let me die alone, as I was always destined to be."

His quiet acceptance makes my heart ache. Why would he resign himself to such solitude? Why would either of them ——him or Cassius—— choose this path?

My thoughts drift to that night with Cassius, the intensity of our connection. Had it felt like a fever dream to him too? Something impossible and precious that neither of us had dared to imagine could be real?

The mark above my heart burns as if responding to my thoughts, forcing me to acknowledge its presence isn’t some foretelling or imaginative delusion.

I want to wake fully, to see the mark with my own eyes, and tell them both how wrong they are to assume such isolation is inevitable. But my body refuses to cooperate, held in this strange state between sleeping and waking.

"Just because you've claimed her,"the voice I assume belongs to the Headmaster says,"doesn't mean she's immune."

"Perhaps not,"Nikolai agrees, his tone carrying notes of dangerous amusement."But would you risk war with my realm simply to dispose of her? She's mine now, and maintaining your wicked sanctuary requires peace, does it not?"

"You dare to wage war with me, child?"

The threat in those words makes the air itself seem to tremble.

"I am young,"Nikolai admits."A few centuries is nothing in the grand scheme of things. But I have no fear of war."

Footsteps approach, and though my eyes remain closed, I sense the surge of golden light. Through whatever connection we've formed, I can see the aetheric plane —— a realm of pure energy where their powers manifest as visible forces.

The golden radiance that must be Nikolai stands evenly matched against a mass of writhing darkness. Their energies meet in perfect balance, making the Headmaster's earlier dismissal of Nikolai's power seem almost laughable.

"Perhaps you've forgotten,"Nikolai's voice carries centuries of contained power,"that while the Fae may be beings of perfection and nature, we were born for menace, for natural disaster and chaos. If war comes, we don't cower. We embrace the bloodshed with joy."

The air grows heavier with each word, charged with the potential for violence.

"But as heir to the throne,"he continues,"I would be protected from the front lines. As would the woman behind me, for she is now my mate."

"You and the Duskwalker cannot mate the same woman,"the Headmaster states as if reciting an immutable law.

Nikolai's laugh rings out, genuinely joyful.

"Why not? Cassius never imagined having a mate at all -- the rarity of Duskwalker bonds makes paper seem thick in comparison. Besides,"and I can hear the smile in his voice,"we Fae have no issue sharing our mates with those we respect."

The declaration hangs in the air, bold and uncompromising.

"It won't work," the Headmaster says, their voice heavy with disdain and certainty.

"And what if it does?" Nikolai challenges. "It won't disturb your oasis of wicked sins. Simply mind your own affairs and continue ignoring us as you have these past years."

A pause stretches between them, thick with unspoken threats and possibilities.

He respects Cassius…but does that mean he carries respect for Damien as well?

Now that I know drinking blood from them or any sort of exchange of power can trigger some sort of mate bond, I have to be careful. I don’t want to plague them with futures they never asked for, but then again, I’ve already made two paranormal victims of this unexpected circumstance.

How are we going to fix it? They don’t want me…they barely know me.

I also try to think of what this means for me.

It’s not as though I was in a full-time relationship of any sort. I’ve dated men. I’ve been intimate and had a few that I thought could be my forever, but those all fell through, one by one.

At the end of the day, I don’t fit the quota when it comes to a woman of bonds and marriage.

Not pretty enough.

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