Page 4 of Burdened Bonds
The enforcer’s jaw hardens and he shakes his head.
Ellie gasps, her hands flying to cover her mouth, her body shaking, but then Stone lays a hand on her shoulder, scowling at his friend. “Missing, Ellie. Not … not …”
“We have to go find her.” The enforcer’s jaw is hard, his eyes steely.
Rhianna’s friend steps forward. “You know where she is?” The enforcer’s entire body stiffens further. He shakes his head. “Then you need to stay here – all of you – and fix Tristan first.”
My friend is weakening with every wasted moment arguing like this, he’s slipping from us.
Tristan’s mom senses it; her face is white with alarm. She takes my wrist in hers and pulls me through into the house and into the grand dining room, leaving the others to bicker on the doorstep. The long dining table occupies nearly all the space, its surface polished to perfection. So polished I can see my face reflected back up in it, bloodied, dirty, covered in soot.
“Lay him down,” she says.
“Here?” I say. The wood is hard, solid, cold.
“Yes,” she snaps with a little impatience, rolling up the sleeves of her cream blouse and pocketing her rings. “Ellie,”she calls and the young woman comes scurrying inside. Tristan’s mom waves her hand. “Fetch me my things.”
Ellie nods, then sprints away and Tristan’s mom looks down at her son, resting her palm tenderly on his golden crown.
“Tristan,” she whispers, but even his mom’s voice isn’t enough to rouse him. He lies there unresponsive, unmoving, his magic a mere whisper in the air. “You tried to heal him?” she asks me, eyes still fixed to his face.
I shuffle forward. “I tried. I … I couldn’t. There was something … something …”
“A curse most likely,” she says, and the slur I so often hear in her voice is no longer present. For once her voice is clear and focused, her eyes too. “Dark magic.”
“Crimson?” I ask.
She peers into her son’s eyes, her hand still resting on his forehead. “No, it’s not crimson magic, not scarlet. It’s not as ancient as that,” she says, her eyes closed, “but its intentions are dark.”
“Can you …” I swallow.
“Heal him?” Her eyes snap up to mine.
I nod. She doesn’t answer and her niece returns with a large wooden box, the others sidling into the room after her.
“You decided to stay?” she says, her stiff words directed at Azlan.
“For now,” he answers.
“That girl has been nothing but trouble,” she mutters.
“That girl is your son’s fated mate,” the professor spits.
What?!
I take a stumbling step away from the table.
Her fated mate!
What the fuck?
Is that true? It can’t be, can it? And yet … and yet … The memory of the two of them together in the meadow comes crashing back into my mind. Was it right there in front of my eyes all along? Plain to see?
I wait for the beast to spit and howl inside me. But he’s quiet. As if this earth-altering piece of news was already known to him. Had always been known to him.
But this can’t be right!
I am certain of two things. Tristan Kennedy hates Rhianna Blackwaters. Rhianna Blackwaters hates him back. They can’t be fated mates.
