Page 15 of The Bound Mage
Araya flushed, shrinking back from the pointed words. But Eloria didn’t give her a chance to answer.
“You must have been very valuable to him.” Eloria leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “And imagine, he didn’t even realize who you were.”
“I—” Araya glanced around the table, desperate for an ally. But no one met her eyes. Nyra studied her wine. Thorne’s expression had gone unreadable. Galen looked suddenly very interested in the stitching of the tablecloth. Only Loren looked up—but not at her. His glare was fixed on his sister, fury etched into every line of his face.
“That’s enough, Eloria,” he snapped. “Leave her alone. She’s not your game piece.”
Eloria ignored him. “We could make it worth your while,” she said, her gaze never wavering from Araya’s face. “What did Jaxon Shaw offer you? Safety? Comforts? We can do all of that. Goddess, if you can help Loren take control of the shadows—” she laughed, shaking her head. “I’d happily crownyouqueen.”
“I don’t want to be a queen—” Araya glanced warily around the table, lingering on Loren’s dark fury. “I just want to go home.”
“Ah,” Eloria’s expression softened. “That’s something I cannot give you, Araya. But I can give you freedom. Here, with us. Where you’re more than a source of power for some human.”
Freedom. Araya stared at the fae female, the word scraping across something raw inside her. There was no such thing as freedom—not for someone like her. Not with Jaxon still searching for her.
Whatever Eloria was asking her to do…she couldn’t. Not even Jaxon would be able to save her from the consequences of betraying the Arcanum so openly. And Eloria? She’d already lied to Araya once, all without ever speaking a false word.
Araya swallowed hard, her hands curling into fists in her lap. The fae were playing as much of a game with her as the Arcanum. Neither of them cared about her—only what she could do for them.
She opened her mouth, ready to refuse—but Loren stood so suddenly his chair fell backward, shadows swirling around them both.
“You will do nothing of the sort,” he hissed, his sharp glare cutting across the table like a blade before settling on her. “I won’t allow it.”
“You won’tallowit?” Araya shoved to her feet, heat flaring in her neck and ears. He had no right—not after everything he’d done. Not after tearing her life apart. “And who areyouto command me? You aren’tmyprince.”
“You don’t understand the game she’s playing,” Loren growled. Shadows peeled away from him like smoke, dark tendrils brushing over her skin in a cool caress totally at odds with the fury blazing in his eyes. “Just because she can’t lie doesn’t mean she’s telling the truth. She wants you to do the same thing for her that you were doing for Jaxon Shaw.”
Araya bristled, the judgement in Loren’s voice slicing deeper than it should have. As if she didn’t already know exactly what they all thought of her.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” she said coolly, holding his stare without flinching. “I did alotof things for Jaxon Shaw.”
Gasps rose from around the table. A chair scraped back, Galen moving to put himself between Eloria and her brother.
But Loren paid no attention to his sister.
“You’re very ungrateful for someone who was rescued from a nightmare of her own making.” He stepped forward—so close that his shadows engulfed her, hissing words in a language she didn’t understand. They reached for her, wrapping around her ankles and crawling up her arms to loop around her throat.
“You think I should begrateful?” Araya laughed in his face. “You didn’tsaveme, Loren. I know what it feels like when someone takes my power. Youusedme.” She rubbed her lip, the phantom taste of his lips and her blood coating her tongue. “Was the kiss really necessary, or was that just for fun?”
The room was utterly silent. Galen stood frozen in front of Eloria, whose calm mask had cracked, unease flickering over her face. Even Thorne had tensed in his seat, his amber gaze locked on the shadows like he would throw himself across the table and rip them from her throat.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Loren said. His voice shook, not with rage now but something more fragile and broken.
“Don’t I?” Araya demanded. She stared up at him, meeting his blazing gaze with unwavering defiance. “I’ve spent my entire life making the best choice I can. I understand what you did and why. But it was no different than what Jaxon did to me.”
Something in Loren’s expression shattered, his shadows sliding from her skin like water. “Araya—” he started, her name strangled on his lips.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she cut him off. “So unless you plan to compel me again, I’ll be making my own choices. And you’ll just have to deal with it.”
Loren recoiled like she’d struck him. His mouth opened—then closed, twisting in a snarl. He turned on his heel, his shadows lashing out in a violent wave that sent dishes clattering to the floor and shattered goblets. He stormed out of the room without another word, the door slamming behind him with a deafening crash.
For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound in the room was the slow drip of red wine, spreading across the white tablecloth like blood. Araya’s heart pounded, her hands shaking. But she held her head high, refusing to cower in front of them.
“Thank you for the dress,El,” she said, dropping her napkin beside her ruined dessert. “But I’m not feeling very sociable right now. If you’ll excuse me.”
She didn’t wait to be dismissed, shoving through the same doors Loren had slammed. Nothing had changed. These people weren’t her rulers. She couldn’t trust any of them. Just like in the New Dominion, the only person here who cared about her safety and happiness was her.
She wouldn’t sit here, waiting to be played like a piece in their game. Nyra’s boat was leaving tonight—and she intended to be on it.
