Page 62 of The Bound Mage
“Loren won’t like it?—”
“Loren forfeited my trust by hiding that Jaxon iskillingpeople to demand my return,” Araya snapped. “I want to speak to someone who doesn’t have a vested interest in hiding things from me.”
Thorne was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, his chair scraping across the floor as he pushed to his feet.
“You should get dressed then,” he said. “Eloria and the Small Council are hearing petitions today. If you want to get in front of them without a fight from Loren, this is your chance.”
It only took minutes for Araya to pull on one of the simple dresses that had been delivered to her room. Plain and unadorned, it was more suited to convalescing than open court, but the rough-spun fabric was almost comforting in its familiarity. The uniform of someone who needed to blend in.
She scrubbed water over her face, wrestling her hair back into a tight braid. And for a heartbeat when she looked in the mirror she almost recognized the person she’d been before she ever met Loren Shadowbane. But then that strange powerscraped against the inside of her skin, sharp and restless. A reminder that she could never go back to who she’d been—not completely.
They passed no one as they descended the stairs. Araya barely recognized the Central Hall—its long feast tables put away and the bright glow of the aetherlamps dimmed until the vast chamber seemed more like a tomb than a gathering place. Every step echoed too loudly, her plain skirts brushing against stone.
“You’ll have no friends in that room,” Thorne warned, turning into a narrow hallway. “Eloria will be overseeing, and Galen is always kind—but their loyalty will always lie with their people. To the rest of them, you’ll be either a weapon or a liability.”
“And Loren?” Araya asked, her voice shaking.
“Loren is going to be furious when he sees you,” Thorne said grimly. “He’s convinced Cormac—that’s Eloria’s commander at arms—was the one behind the bodies on that float. He and Eryn have been the loudest voices questioning your motives in coming here.”
“The spymaster?” Araya shivered, remembering the way Loren had thrown the male against the wall all those weeks ago.
“The very same,” Thorne confirmed. “Expect questions—especially about your relationship with the Shaws.” He stopped just short of the door, turning to face her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Araya stared at the door. She couldfeelLoren beyond it. Not as clearly as she had before, when he’d been ready to rip this place down stone by stone, but her magic leaned toward him even more than it had before, desperate to get to him.
“I have to do this,” she said.
“Alright then.” Thorne set his jaw, turning back to the two guards that stood in front of the door. “We’re going in. Lady Starwind has a petition to present.”
“Very well, sir,” one of the guards said, though he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He shoved the door open, stepping inside with a perfunctory bow. “Lord Emberwood and Lady Starwind,” he announced, his voice carrying into the chamber. “To present a petition to the Small Council.”
The hush that followed was immediate. Dozens of heads turned, the petitioners clustered in front of the long table whispering to each other as they craned their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of the female who had ruined Bloomtide. Araya faltered under their scrutiny, her pulse suddenly racing as she stared up at the long table.
Loren sat at his sister’s right hand, the shadows curling up around him betraying the fury hidden behind his carved-from-ice expression. The bond pulled taut in her chest, crying out for her to cross the room and go to him—but she just stood beside Thorne, frozen.
“Arcanum’s whore.” One of the petitioners turned his head, his spit striking the floor at her feet. “Go back to where you came from, halfblood.”
Araya flinched and hunched her shoulders, shame crawling over her skin. She had no defense—her argument that she had only been doing what she needed to protect herself fell flat here, where so many had fought for and gained their freedom.
But Loren was on his feet. “What did you say to her?”
The petitioner shifted, color draining from his face as his companions drew away from him. But he lifted his chin, his voice steady. “Nothing but the truth, Your Majesty.”
“You can’t salute me and insult her.” Loren’s voice didn’t rise—but the shadows did. They unspooled like smoke, stretching long tendrils toward the male. “Apologize.”
The male opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. But the words wouldn’t come. The shadows hissed, reaching for him. Hecouldn’t apologize, Araya realized with dawning horror. Because he wasn’t sorry—and fae couldn’t lie.
“Loren—” she caught up her skirt in one hand, hurrying forward to push between the man and the shadows. “Don’t.”
For a heartbeat she thought he hadn’t heard her. The shadows parted around her, circling the shaking male that had insulted her. Araya stretched out her hand for them, desperately willing them to come to her instead. These were Loren’s people. If he started hurting them because of her, they would never forgive him.
“Clear the room,” Eloria snapped.
Petitioners scattered, a scribe clutching his ledger as they all fled, filing out of the room until only Thorne and the seated councilors remained. But Araya didn’t even get to take a full breath before Loren shoved his chair back so hard it struck the wall, shadows darkening around him. He stormed across the room, shoving Thorne hard enough that the other male stumbled back.
“What were you thinking, bringing her here?” he snarled.
“You don’t have any right to keep me away,” Araya cut in. She stepped forward, her spine stiff as the miasma of darkness writhing around Loren swallowed her too. “You keep telling me I have a place here,” she challenged, her voice shaking. “That means I have every right to present a petition.”
