Page 52 of The Bound Mage
“I’m being selfish,” she said at last, her voice hollow. “If completing the bond gives you control of the shadows and lets you protect your people…then we should complete it.”
Loren went rigid beside her, the shadows rising behind him like mantled wings. “Absolutely not,” he snapped. “You don’t owe me your freedom. You don’t owe me your body. And you sure as hell don’t owe me the bond just because Eloria wants a king who can keep his shadows leashed.”
Araya sucked in a sharp breath as he stepped closer, the air crackling between them. His fingers brushed her chin, tipping her face up until she had no choice but to meet his searing green gaze.
“If you ever choose me, Araya—if you ever choose this—it will be becauseyouwant it. Not because Eloria made you feel guilty or you were backed into a corner.” Loren took a deep breath, his eyes slipping closed. “I meant what I told you before. I have no desire to trap you in this.”
Araya swallowed hard, her chest aching. “What if I don’t know what I want?”
Loren’s hand fell away, but the shadows lingered, brushing gently across her skin. “Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said,as if it was really that simple. “Eloria arranged a chamber for you in this wing. Do you want me to walk you over?”
Araya bit her lip, turning away before she did something foolish like lean into his warmth. “Not yet,” she murmured. “Can you just…stay out here with me for a while?”
His breath caught, but he didn’t hesitate. “Of course,ael’sura.”
Chapter
Twenty-Three
“I can’t believeI let you talk me into coming down here without her.” Loren tugged at the sleeves of his embroidered tunic, the silver vines and leaves embroidered on the deep green silk catching the light like shimmering stars. “How long does it take to put on a dress?”
“Longer than you think,” Eloria snipped back. “I left her three choices. And she’ll have to figure out what to do with her hair. Honestly, you should have let me stay to help her?—”
“Princess!” one of the stewards called from across the hall, bowing hastily before gesturing toward the temporary staging area they’d set up at the back of the hall. “They’re asking for you.”
“She’s meddling,” Loren growled, glaring at Eloria’s back as his sister glided away to join the army of cooks scrambling to make sure everything wasjust sobefore the doors finally opened.
Galen laughed, tossing back a goblet of the effervescent golden wine. He looked maddeningly at ease in his finery, his own deep green doublet tailored to perfection and threaded with the same silver embroidery.
“Of course she’s meddling,” he said. “She’s your sister. But she’s not doing it to trap Araya. She’s doing it because she wants the two of you to have each other when you need it most.”
Loren grumbled something non-committal, his gaze snagging on Eloria’s commander at arms and spymaster, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. The shadows thickened around his feet, the hair on the back of his neck prickling.
“Don’t.” Galen set his goblet down a little too hard. “Eloria already forced the entire Small Council to swear oaths that they wouldn’t approach her during Bloomtide. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Loren’s lip curled as he watched Eryn melt into the crowd. Cormac stayed, his face set in a permanent scowl despite the festive occasion. Oaths or not, he didn’t trust either of them. If they found a way to get to her?—
“And look,” Galen interrupted his churning thoughts. “There she is.”
Loren turned, the shadows rising with him like they wanted to see too—and then he promptly forgot all about Cormac and Eryn.
Araya walked down the steps next to Thorne, one hand resting lightly on his arm as she laughed at something he said. The bright sound carried through the hall, the easy warmth she shared with his oldest friend striking Loren right in the heart.
The gown fit her like a second skin, tailored to tempt fate. Eloria’s doing, no doubt—right down to the silver thread that echoed the embroidery on his own tunic and the plum silk that drew attention to her creamy skin. She’d drawn the front of her fiery hair back from her face in a braided crown that emphasized the long line of her neck, for once bare of that cursed amulet.
“Close your mouth, Your Majesty,” Galen whispered loudly.
Loren snapped his mouth closed hard enough to rattle his teeth. Across the room, Araya hesitated, a swell of anxiety rising in the bond as she scanned the crowd—but then her searching silver gaze found his, as drawn to him as he was to her.
He moved without thinking, people jumping out of the way of his shadows as he strode across the hall. He stopped just short of touching her. He didn’t dare—not when his hands remembered the curve of her waist and the way she’d melted into him in that dream, soft and giving and impossibly warm.
“Is it too much?” she asked softly.
“Is what too much?” Loren asked stupidly, still staring at her.
Araya blinked, then huffed out a laugh Loren would have paid fortunes to hear again. “Thedress, Loren.”
“Oh—” Loren forced himself to take a step back, sucking in a deep breath. “Not at all. You look—it suits you.”
