Page 75 of The Bound Mage
“It’s not,” Loren whispered. He wanted to reach for her, but he couldn’t move. Even the shadows were still around his feet. “It’s not your fault,ael’sura.”
“I can’t fix it.” Araya finally looked up at him, tears cutting silver paths down her cheeks. “If I don’t go back, the fae there suffer. If I go back while we’re still bound, Jaxon uses me to hurt you. But if I break the bondIhurt you.”
Loren’s pulse stumbled. “Did you find a way to do it?”
“I did. But it doesn’t matter.” Araya turned another page, shoving it toward him. “According to every one of the few accounts they could find, breaking the bond requires your true name. And like you said…” She trailed off, her voice bitter. “Notruefae would ever give anyone that kind of power over them.”
Loren sucked in a sharp breath, his heart stumbling in his chest. He’d told her that—Goddess, it felt like a lifetime ago. In a dream neither one of them would ever see come true. He’d been so cruel, certain that he was right. But what had he known, in the end?
“It’s Lorendrael,” he said.
Araya’s head snapped up, but Loren rushed on before she could speak.
“I still think going back is a terrible idea, but…if you want to break the mate bond, I won’t stop you. I swear it.”
“Loren…” Araya stared at him, her mouth parted as her eyes searched his like she wasn’t sure he was real. Loren forcedhimself to meet her gaze and hold it, even as his heart screamed at him to take the words back.
“I claimed you without your consent,” he said softly. “I can’t take that back. But I won’t shackle you to a fate you didn’t choose. Whatever you decide,ael’sura…I’ll survive it.”
“I—” she cleared her throat, scrubbing her hands across her face. “We shouldn’t do anything until we retrieve your father’s remains. I do want to help the fae in any way I can. I just…” she trailed off, still staring at him. “I think we can make it through the Veil together. If you’re willing.”
Loren swallowed hard, the bond twisting in his chest. “Eloria said it will take two days to prepare for another attempt to retrieve my father’s remains. Is that enough time?”
“Two days,” Araya echoed slowly, nodding.
“I’ll let her know.” Loren reached out, brushing a strand of hair that had escaped her braid back out of her face before he could think better of it. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch as his knuckles grazed her cheek.
It wasn’t much—just the smallest tilt of her head toward his hand—but it stopped the breath in Loren’s chest. The bond pulsed quietly, not burning or clawing like it usually did, but warm and still. Peaceful, for the first time since he danced with her at Bloomtide.
“You’re exhausted,” he said, his voice thick. “Let me walk you back to your room.”
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Araya woke slowly,sleep blurring the edges of her mind. Thin light filtered through the high windows of the library, muted and gray. Spring might have arrived, but there were no fresh buds or greening gardens. Not here, where a heavy blanket of chill mist still pressed against the castle walls.
But she was warm.
She blinked, groaning when she realized she’d fallen asleep in one of the library chairs, slumped awkwardly against the armrest with the reports she’d been going over still spread out on the table in front of her. Someone had draped a blanket over her, cocooning her in the comforting scent of rain-washed stone.
Loren.
He slumped in a chair across from her, his long legs stretched out and his head tipped back against the padded upholstery—fast asleep. For once, the tension was gone from his face, the grim set of his lips softened. Even the shadows were restful, quiet around his feet.
The bond purred in her chest, delighted at his proximity and blissfully uncaring of the reasons why they could never be together. Not really. But for a moment, she indulged it. Letherself breathe in his scent and imagine that she would ever get more than a handful of stolen mornings with him.
But when she looked at him, the dream shattered.
Faint scars wrapped his throat, a lingering reminder of the iron collar he had worn for so many years. More peeked out from the open collar of his shirt—a map of the Arcanum’s cruelties, carved into his flesh with iron and left to heal without care. Even with all the magic in the world at their fingertips, the fae Healers would never be able to make those scars vanish completely.
Araya’s stomach turned. She might not have wielded the knife herself, but she’d been complicit. Silent and obedient.
Her focus had always been on ensuring thatshewas never on the receiving end of such attention. But now twenty-three fae females were dead—killed for no reason but that they bore a passing resemblance to her. Dumped into the Shadowed Veil like refuse. Forgotten.
She didn’t deserve this happiness. Not after everything she’d done. And everything she’d failed to do.
If she was a better person, she would pray to the Gods that he found someone else once she broke their bond. Someone kind and gentle. Who thought of others first.
