Page 9 of The Bound Mage
Loren clenched his jaw. “Thely’ithrarune suppresses her magic. It was designed to keep her in submission?—”
“And like I explained to her, it doesn’t work here,” Ilyana said. “As long as she stays on this side of the Shadowed Veil, it’s nothing but a scar. Unless the human mage that claimed her manages to cross the Veil and find her, she’s perfectly safe whether the rune is there or not.”
Loren exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His shadows curled around him, echoing the frustration clawing at his ribs. Ilyana had come highly recommended by Thorne. She’d spent treating fae brutalized by the Arcanum, earning her place as a Healer trusted by refugees and warriors alike. But she didn’t know Jaxon Shaw. Not like he did. She had no idea how far Shaw would go to reclaim what he thought was his—or to break what he couldn’t control.
“What about the other fae who survived the camps?” he asked.
“She refused to speak with them.”
Loren’s grip tightened on the back of the chair until the wood groaned beneath his fingers. The sharp creak echoed in the quiet room, but he barely heard it over the pulse pounding in his ears. He had dragged her from one prison and placed her in another. She was surrounded by strangers, in a world she had no ties to, and now…she was choosing to stay cut off.
“I don’t want her to be alone here,” he said. “She’s been having nightmares. Even if she wants nothing to do with me, I want her to havesomeone.”
“And who haveyoutalked to?” Ilyana asked gently. “She’s not the only one at Ithralis who suffered at the New Dominion’s hands, Your Majesty.”
Loren flushed, suddenly all too aware of the vivid scars that still branded his throat and wrists. “We’re not talking about me,” he snapped.
Ilyana frowned, but whatever answer she might have made was silenced when the door burst open, slamming into the wall with enough force to rattle the lamp hanging from the low ceiling.
“Loren!” Eloria stormed into the room, her green eyes blazing with a fury that could have melted stone. “You cannot justwalk outon the Small Council. You are theprince!”
“Andyouare the regent,” Loren retorted. “I had something I needed to do.”
Eloria’s expression darkened, her gaze flicking to Ilyana. “And howisAraya?”
“Why do you want to know? So you can brief your advisors on her?” Loren turned his back on her, glancing back at the Healer. “Thank you, Ilyana. You can go.”
“Stay,” Eloria said. “Just for a moment, please. I think my brother needs a reminder of the intricacies of the mate bond. Can you give us an overview?”
On some level, Loren was aware of the Healer staring at him, her mouth hanging open in disbelief—but his immediate attention narrowed on his sister. His reckless, impudent sister. Who had just carelessly handed over yet another secret that wasn’t hers to share.
“This isn’t necessary,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. But his heart thundered in his chest, the shadows at hisfeet pulsing and coiling up his legs like restless serpents. He gritted his teeth, trying to force them back down. They weren’t in any danger here—Araya wasn’t in danger. But they fought him, hissing words he couldn’t quite understand as they fed on his shame, reflecting it back into the world with every flicker of darkened aether.
“Go ahead, Ilyana.” Eloria turned her back on him, apparently unconcerned by the murderous darkness churning around him. “I’m especially interested in revisiting the consequences of an unreciprocated mate bond—say if one half of the pair took the other’s blood and name in order to escape the New Dominion.”
Ilyana’s blanched, her wide eyes flying to Loren. “Tell me you didn’t.”
But he had. He’d taken her blood without her consent, binding her name to his. It had been the only way to save her life, but that didn’t change the horror of what he’d done, turning a sacred gift into just another cage.
And no matter how much he despised himself for it, he couldn’t take it back.
“Does she—” Ilyana asked.
“No,” Loren forced the word through clenched teeth, his voice rough. “She doesn’t know.”
“Goddess,” Ilyana whispered, her face pale. “You have to tell her. If you’ve claimed her…the bond isn’t going to stop trying to drag you together. She’ll think she’s going mad.” Her eyes flicked to the shadows that had risen around his boots. “It will tear you both apart. Emotionally—magically. The longer it drags out, the worse it will get.”
“Father only made it two years after Mother died,” Eloria said quietly. “And look whatdara’elhas become. Is that what you want your legacy to be?”
Loren could only look away, shame burning like rot under his skin.
“Thank you, Ilyana,” Eloria said finally. “You can go.”
The Healer turned so quickly she nearly stumbled, yanking open the door with shaking hands and disappearing into the hall. Loren didn’t watch her leave. His jaw clenched, the shadows curling restlessly around him, whispering as they fed off the storm inside him.
“You had no right to do that,” he spat.
“I have every right.” Eloria folded her arms across her chest. “You should be here—in Lumaria, where your people are. This is where you belong. Both of you. Not hiding in that crumbling castle ignoring each other.”
