Page 60 of The Eternal Mirror
“You’re doing what?” Zayne yells from across the table. “And when the fuck were you going to tell me that?”
“Soon?” I really hope that’s the right answer. He's angry, but beneath that I can sense his fear. I want to tell him that I don't wantto go back, that I'm scared as well. But I know if I don't do this, I'll be haunted by Yasmin and the other witches every day of my life. I want to say something, try to explain, but I feel that I should tell Sheela about her mother before anyone else.
Khaos has risen to his feet. Sometimes I forget how big he is. Not this time. “You plan to go back to my father’s palace and hand yourself over like some sacrificial lamb?”
“Well, I wasn’t thinking in terms of sacrifice.”
He kicks back his chair and takes a step closer, towering over me. Everyone stops eating and watches. I can see the dragon behind his eyes. Holy shit, he is not a happy bunny. “And what about me?” he snarls. “You really fucking think I would let you go alone. Again.” He breathes out, and yes, there’s smoke coming out of his nostrils. “Not fucking happening,” he yells.
Well, that went well.
Chapter 20
Khaos
Iglare at the tightly laced entrance to the tent. Does she really believe that a little scrap of canvas will keep me out?
She’d refused to talk about it anymore. She'd grabbed Josh by the hand and said she was going to bed. Someone showed her to a tent, and I trailed behind like a disobedient puppy, with her casting narrow-eyed glances over her shoulder every few feet.
I’m well aware that she took Josh as protection—and she’s right. It was a clever move. I’m not going to confront her while the boy is there. He’s changed since I saw him last; there’s a brokenness, a fragility about him now. He’s been through so much. And that’s down to my father.
So I stretch out on the ground outside her tent and try to pretend that I’m not unraveling from the inside out.
She’s alive. And close. It should be enough. It’s not.
I don’t sleep.
I don’t blink.
I just stare.
We’re in the middle of the camp. It’s a familiar environment for me. From the age of twelve, I spent much of my life in camps like this one. The familiarity should be soothing, but instead, it jars. It reminds me of who I was. Not evil, but maybe lazy, egotistical, and unbelievably naive. I’d done my father’s dirty work, often fighting against people just like these, believing his lies. I don’t blame them for locking me up when I arrived. I’d have done the same. Or worse.
So I shut out the sounds of the camp and listen. If I listen hard enough, I can hear her breathing. I can feel the beat of her heart through the mating bond. It pulses like stars in my blood, wrapping around my own heart.
I fight the despair that hovers on the edge of my consciousness. I never wanted love. I’ve always known, deep down, that love means pain.
And it breaks my heart that Amber is learning the same.
I remember being pleased when I found out about the mating bond—and that’s the understatement of the century. I was fucking ecstatic. I’d been fighting the attraction so hard because the truth is, like Josh, I was also broken at my father’s hands. I felt it wasn’t fair to expect her to care for something so damaged. Then she told me about the bond, and suddenly everything made sense. I thought maybe that meant it was safe to love—that we’d beenbrought together by the gods and nothing could come between us. How wrong can you be?
Fucking crappy gods. We’re just playthings.
Amber is trying to pretend the bond doesn’t exist, that if she ignores it, then it will somehow go away. But I know we can’t break it—except with both our deaths. And maybe not even with that. It will likely follow us into the afterlife, if there is such a thing.
Only the gods can sever this bond.
The worst part is...I do understand why she’s fighting so hard.
Love’s a weapon in the wrong hands.
The tent flutters slightly in the breeze. I catch a hint of her scent—stars and silver and storm.
She’s going to break what’s left of me, grind the shattered pieces into dust.
I catch a movement from behind and turn slowly, my hand sliding to the sword on the ground beside me.
But it’s only Grimlet. He shuffles toward me. He looks almost as broken as I feel, his wings drooping so they drag in the soil. He stops close to my shoulder. I don’t get up.
