Page 51 of The Bound Mage
“You can if you swing it hard enough,” Galen shot back.
Within moments the three males were sparring in earnest. Loren laughed, shaking his head at something Thorne said. Araya set her fork down at the sound, something squeezing tight in her chest at how much younger and lighter he looked with a real smile on his face.
“You make him happy,” Eloria said.
“Oh—” Araya jumped, looking quickly back down at her plate like she hadn’t just been caught staring. “I’m sure it’s being here with his family after so long that makes him happy.”
“Is that what you think?” Eloria gave a very un-princess-like snort. “He was an absolute terror the entire time you were at Ithralis and he was here. Even the shadows are desperate to be close to you.”
Araya raised a hand to where the little shadow curled around her neck, suddenly self-conscious. “I know fae take this…fated bond seriously, but…I can’t be what he needs. I already have a bond in the New Dominion.”
Eloria’s brows arched. “That’s what you call what Shaw did to you? A bond?” Her tone sharpened, though there was a thread of pity beneath it. “Whatever he forced on you, it isn’t this. Look at them.” She tipped her chin toward the shadow twined around Araya’s shoulders. “They never behaved like that for our father,” she said. “Not even when our mother was still alive. Did you know they killed him?”
“I—” Araya’s throat tightened. The shadow draped over her shoulders stirred, picking up on her unease, and she stroked it hastily as if that could settle them both. “Loren said your father died on the battlefield. There were no survivors?—”
“I didn’t have to be there to know what happened,” Eloria laughed bitterly. “I saw how they fought him after our mother died. I have no doubt they slaughtered every single person on that battlefield—including their master.” She stared at the shadow wrapped around Araya’s shoulders, her eyes bright. “They’ve even tried to kill me twice.”
Araya stilled, her fingers freezing mid-stroke. “What?”
“The first time was when I tried to claim the shadows myself.” Eloria’s smile thinned, her voice going brittle at the edges. “You see, we didn’t know if Loren was alive or ifdara’elwas still tied to my father’s remains. But without them, I can’t lead our people—not really.”
“And the second time?” she whispered.
“The night he came back,” Eloria sat back in her chair, studying her like Araya was a puzzle she meant to solve. “Whatever remnant ofdara’elis following him around wasn’t pleased when I didn’t immediately acquiesce to his demand that I—how did he put it? Put you on a boat to anywhere you wanted to go.”
Araya’s chest constricted, the glass ceiling and warm lights all blurring together as she struggled to take a full breath. “He told you to let me go?”
“Oh, he wasadamant.” Eloria laughed, but there was an edge to her smile now. “He wanted me to promise you would be free to walk away.”
Araya’s throat tightened. “And you said no.”
“Of course I said no.” Eloria scoffed, her green eyes flashing. “What world do you think we’re living in right now? The shadowschosehim. Our people need their king—andheneedsyou. So before you go running back to that human mage who nearly killed you out of some delusional mix of fear and loyalty, maybe consider giving my brother—and his people—a real chance.”
Araya flinched, Eloria’s words landing like a stone in her gut. On the other side of the room, Loren’s voice suddenly cut off, his head snapping up. But Araya avoided his gaze, shoving to her feet instead.
“I need a some air.” She pushed past Eloria without waiting for permission, escaping through the glass doors to the relative privacy of the balcony beyond.
Cool air hit her face, perfumed with the sharp, sweet scent of early spring blooms and the earthy tang of freshly-turned soil from the garlands of fresh flowers that decorated the central square so far below. Clusters of fae gathered in the brightly lit space, their laughter drifting up to her ears like something from a half-remembered dream.
She felt him before he spoke, his presence wrapping around her like the soothing embrace of his shadows—the same shadows that had killed his father. That had tried to kill Eloria—twice.
“If you want to be alone I’ll go,” Loren said softly. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Araya swallowed hard, staring down at the crowd below. “You don’t have to go.”
He moved slowly to stand beside her, leaving just enough space between them that the shadows curled in the gap, reaching out before coiling back like they were waiting for her permission to cross.
“What did she say to you?” Loren asked finally, his voice careful.
“She told me you tried to let me go.” Araya swallowed hard, looking up from the crowd below to meet his gaze. “Even though you’d already claimed me.”
Loren’s shoulders stiffened, his expression turning wary. “I did.”
“Even though it would have hurt you?” Araya whispered.
This time it was Loren who looked away, his silence saying more than words ever could. The little shadow slipped from her shoulders, reaching out to him. Araya watched it brush against him like a cat—offering comfort. Because she was already hurting him. She was hurting everyone.
Her stomach knotted. Even if the fae agreed to her proposal to harness the shadows to another wielder, she was no closer to figuring out how to hide or break the bond. She couldn’t go back—but nothing would stop Jaxon from coming for her. Once he made it past the Veil, the fae would have no way to stand against him. Unless Loren had his full power.
