Page 36 of The Bound Mage
“Consider accepting some help, Loren,” Throne said finally. “If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for her. You both deserve better.”
Loren stared at the candle stub as the door swung closed behind his friend, the shadows twisting and writhing across the room as if they might find the threat to his mate hiding in some dark corner. All they wanted was to protect her, to fix this. But they couldn’t.Hecouldn’t. Because he couldn’t even fix himself.
And the Small Council—Loren had no doubt they would be back with more demands. What if they looked at the bodies piling up and decided that one fae female’s freedom was an acceptable cost to pay to stop the bleeding?
His stomach turned, bile stinging his throat. Eloria wouldn’t—shecouldn’tdo that to him. But Eryn? Cormac? How many others would disagree?
The shadows lashed the air around him, a sudden, violent burst of power that made the aetherlamps flicker wildly above him.Fix it.They seethed.Protect her.
But he couldn’t. Not from here. Not like this.
Chapter
Thirteen
The little shadow was gone.
Araya couldn’t say when it had slipped away. One moment it had been curled around her, a cool anchor against her side as she shook with silent sobs, terrified of what nightmares sleep would bring. The next, she’d opened heavy eyes to the pale wash of muted sunlight creeping across the floor—alone.
She slid out of bed, wincing as every muscle screamed in protest. Everything hurt, her chest still tight and aching with the lingering remnant of the panic that had gripped her. But Araya still stumbled into the bathing chamber, gripping the edge of the basin as she forced herself to meet her own eyes in the mirror.
She barely recognized herself. Her silver eyes swollen and bloodshot—how many years had it been since shewept? Surely, not since her earliest years at Kaldrath, where she’d learned that tears didn’t win you any mercy.
Araya ducked her head, scrubbing cold water over her face. The chill shocked her awake, stinging her skin and clearing her mind. She was on Eluneth. She was theguestof the crown prince—the same male who had forced her to hold a knife to her own throat.
Araya grimaced, tilting her head to study the scabbed over scrape on her neck. It looked worse than she expected, an ugly reminder of how little control she really had here despite Loren’s insistence that she wasfree. She swallowed hard, shoving away the memory of the blade at her throat, of Loren’s power twisting her body to his will—the sooner she figured out how to break this link between them and negotiated her return to the New Dominion, the better.
She picked up the brush, dragging it through her snarled hair until she could yank it back into her customary braid. Once she got back to the New Dominion, she could fix everything. All she had to do was figure out how to break the traitorous bond that curled in her chest. As long as Jaxon never knew it existed, she could go back to her old life. Safe.
She repeated it like a mantra, over and over, until her heartbeat slowed and the ache in her chest dulled. Safe—she’d be safe with Jaxon. He’d never made her hold a knife to her own throat. As long as she remembered her place, she could be happy there. Happy with him.
But she didn’t dare try to speak the words aloud.
She set the brush down, focusing on pulling her newly-tamed hair back into her usual braid. She was just wrapping the tie around the end when someone knocked softly on the door. Araya froze, her heart leaping into her throat. For a moment, she thought it might be Loren—but the bond sat heavy in her chest, unresponsive.
“Araya?” Thorne called out, his voice as gentle as his knock. “May I come in?”
“Just a moment.” Araya glanced in the mirror one last time, dragging her braid over her shoulder like it could hide the raw scrape on her throat before she hurried across the room, pulling away the chair she’d wedged beneath the knob.
“Good morning.” Thorne’s amber eyes flicked to the chair, his eyebrows rising.
“You said to lock the door,” Araya snapped, more defensively than she’d meant. “I don’t have a key, so?—”
“You don’t have a key to your own room?” Thorne stepped back, his expression darkening. “Why not?”
“I assume because Loren doesn’t want me to have a key.” Araya crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “Barricading the door works fine?—”
“You shouldn’t have to barricade the door to your own bedroom,” Thorne said firmly. “I’ll find out where it went—Veria must have a copy at the very least.”
“And what will Loren have to say about that?” Araya demanded.
Thorne’s mouth tightened, but his voice stayed gentle. “Loren isn’t here, Araya.”
Araya stared at him, almost not certain she heard him right. “What?”
“He left for Lumaria last night,” Thorne said.
Araya fell back a step, grabbing the back of the chair for support as the world tilted under her feet. Her chest hollowed out, the strange stillness of the bond suddenly making far too much sense. He was gone. She wouldn’t have to face him, wouldn’t have to look him in the eye as he told her what he’d done had been for her own good. He’d justlefther here without a word of explanation?—
