Page 24 of Heartsong
It was his turn to shake his head vehemently. She laid out her argument so logically, as if it was the only conclusion to make, and Frey rebelled against such a thing with his whole being. He leapt to his feet and took one of her hands in his. Drawing her gently forward, he placed her palm on his chest, above his racing heart.
“This is because of you,” he growled. “I am here because of you, my mate. Iknowit. My kind feel it when we have found our heartsongs, deep inside. It is a knowing we only feel once. I knew you were for me even when I was stone.”
“Then why did you turn back?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It was the fae and their magick that did this. The answer will not be simple. But that does not change that we are bound together. I may not know you yet, but I will learn. I look forward to it.” He leaned down to fill her vision, to block out anything that wasn’t him so she’d understand when he said, “I will cherish you and all that you are because that is the way of mates.”
Anna’s lashes fluttered, her eyes searching his, and for one glorious moment, Frey thought she softened, finally, to him. Just a little.
But when she opened her mouth to speak, it was to say, “You’re wrong,” with such finality it almost broke his heart. She pulled her hand away and retreated from the room, closing herself inside her bedchamber with the soft but resoundingclickof the door shutting.
Frey stood stunned in her wake, more cut down by two words from his mate than any axe or sword or fae magick had ever managed. But from that despair sparked an enraged determination that burned hot inside him, a molten core that he would not be denied.
He hadn’t waited this long, hadn’t come this far to give up now.
Standing before her door, he placed his hand on the painted wood. He could break it down with ease, could shred the thin wood with little effort; nothing truly separated him from her now—but he would give her time and space. At least a little. He wouldn’t promise to always be so generous.
But she had to know, to understand, “I’m not wrong.” He knew it with everything he was, and said it loud enough that he knew she heard, even behind the door.
Anna was his heartsong, and Frey would do whatever it took to prove it. He would have her, and they would free his kin. There was no other choice.
The rest of the night was an uneventful haze of passing lights and drizzling rain. The dwelling went quiet with the retreat of his mate, and from behind her door, he eventually heard the soft sounds of her sleeping.
He was once again joined in his vigil by the black cat, whom Anna called Captain. The cat was a pleasant creature, and Frey took small comfort in extending his hand for Captain to rub against. “If only you could speak,” he lamented. “You surely know the secrets of your mistress’s heart.”
Two nights with his mate and he despaired of ever knowing those secrets.
This wasn’t the way of mates. They were supposed toknoweach other. The pull of knowing brought them together, then nature, lust, and then love would do the rest. She would understand this if she were a guardian.
She’d be stone if she was a guardian.
Frey’s lip curled in frustration. He never backed down from a challenge—he was the fiercest warrior in his clan, had had aspirations to challenge for chieftain one day. He would have position, power, respect to offer his mate. He was a lone warrior, skilled in battle and strategy, and earned his place in the world by the strength of his arm and wing. These were the strengths given to him by the goddesses, and it was up to him to use them to his advantage.
He couldn’t offer family; his had perished years before in battle against the Saxons. He couldn’t offer wealth, but he’d worked to fill his dwelling with fine things for his heartsong.
But that was before the fae had cut a bloody swathe across their world.
Now, Frey truly had nothing. Gone was his dwelling, with everything he’d collected for a mate. No home, no clan. He still had his strength, but what good was it when he couldn’t protect his mate nor had access to any weapons he recognized to impress her with his skill?
As the moon arched across the sky, the despondency inside him grew. He was awake, he had a heartsong, but what good were they?
He didn’t know how to soften or woo a human mate.
He didn’t understand this modern world of hers.
He didn’t know why he returned to stone with the sun, nor how to stop it from happening again.
A pit of dread sucked at his guts. Only a few more hours, then he might be pulled back into his stone prison. Frey shuddered, remembering the horrible stiffening of his joints, how his body had felt weighed down as if he sank beneath the waves of the sea. The pressure had nearly crushed him as his skin hardened and his vision faded. The world had closed in around him, denying him a glimpse of the day, of feeling sunlight on his face for the first time in over a thousand years.
The pain and shock of returning to stone had kept him silent when he felt the connection of the others pressing on his mind. Although muted by distance now, he was aware of his imprisoned kin, of their collective consciousness stirring at his sudden absence. He thought some of them, the stronger ones who refused like him to fade away, sensed his return, but he kept his silence.
What could he tell them?
Two nights and all he could offer was false hope. He was free, but not truly. He had a mate, but one who denied the bond.
Frey couldn’t stomach delivering such a blow to his dying kin.
He would keep his silence, for their sake, now alone where he’d once had the comfort of his kind’s collective consciousness at least.
