Page 77 of The Bound Mage
“People are dying,” Araya protested. “Innocents?—”
“I don’t question your motivations, Lady Starwind,” the High Luminary interrupted. “None of us wish to see others die in our place. It is a noble impulse.”
“But?” Araya asked.
“Butyou are the mate of a prince—destined to be queen. To reject that bond… to sever what the Goddess herself has placed between you—” her voice cooled, each word deliberate, “—the consequences will ripple far beyond the deaths of a few part-fae women.”
“Females,” Araya corrected. She glared at the priestess, certain the slight had not been an accident. “They were fae.”
“Part-fae.” The High Luminary said pointedly.
“Just like me.” Araya didn’t flinch from the High Luminary’s stare. She’d spent her life being looked at aslessand proving everyone wrong. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to take your counsel under advisement. But right now, I’d like to be alone.”
The High Luminary studied her for a long, weighty moment longer before nodding. “As you wish, Lady Starwind. I will burn bay and pray the Goddess grants you clarity—and that whatever choice you make does not doom more than your own heart.”
Araya wrapped her arms around herself, watching silently as the mist swallowed the High Luminary. In just a few heartbeats, she was alone again. Her power hummed under her skin, but she didn’t reach for it again. She just stood there, staring into the the quiet gray until a familiar wisp of shadow slid across the stones, twining around her ankles before leaping up to her shoulders.
She stroked it softly, warmth blooming in her chest as Loren stepped into the garden.
“You found me,” she said.
“I’ll always find you,” he answered easily. He leaned against the wall, his face soft as he watched her stroke the shadow’s sinuous form. He’d come straight from the library, his hair still tousled and and a faint line on his cheek from the seam of the upholstery. “You were upset.”
“I’m nervous.” Araya sighed, glancing back into the shadowed garden. “What if I can’t do it?”
Her voice wavered, breaking embarrassingly. But Loren just took another step forward, his hand coming up to cup her jaw as his thumb smoothed away a tear she hadn’t felt fall.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” he said softly. “If anyone can do this, it’s the female who forced the Arcanum to take her seriously.”
Araya’s breath hitched. Her eyes searched his—steady, unwavering, full of a trust she hadn’t known she needed so badly. A trust she didn’t deserve.
“Loren…” she laid her hand over his, closing her eyes. “I can’t stay here.”
“I know.” Loren’s fingertips brushed over her skin, a barely there touch that sent goosebumps rushing over her skin. “And I understand. I won’t pretend the way you survived was right or easy. But I see you now. I trust you. Whatever comes next—whatever choice you have to make—I’m with you.”
Araya didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat closed around the rush of words she couldn’t voice, her chest aching with the weight of everything he’d just given her.
Instead, she surged forward, burying her face in his chest.
Loren caught her without hesitation, his arms folding around her. One hand cradled the back of her head, tucking her into him like she belonged there.
“You should eat something,” Loren said once her sobs had quieted to shaking sniffles.
“I don’t think I can.” Araya stepped back, wiping at her face.
Loren didn’t press. Just held out his hand.
“You’re ready,” he said, quiet and certain.
She stared at his hand for a moment, the ache in her chest coiling tighter. Then she slipped her fingers into his and let him lead her from the garden.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
There were toomany people here.
Eloria couldn’t come herself—the fae wouldn’t survive losing both surviving royals. But she’d sent a small army in her stead. Loren’s jaw flexed as he scanned the clustered warriors, scouts, and Healers. Half of them watched him like he might snap at any moment, while the other half tried—and failed—not to look afraid.
