Chapter 23
ALIX
I t takes far longer to travel to the Ashwater Estate by carriage than it did by horse, but I can’t say I mind.
After several long hours, our procession arrives in Storia, and I scramble to the window to peer out at the lovely village. It’s raining, which isn’t quite as picturesque as the snow, but the village still looks nearly perfect. “I still can’t get over this place. It looks like an actual fairytale.”
Daemon smirks at me. “As opposed to the rest of Ellender, which looks like…?”
“Oh, shut up.” I toss him a teasing smile. “I just like it here, okay? Is that a crime?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m glad you like it.”
My heart squeezes, and my stomach somersaults. I can’t even lie to myself about why. I don’t want to.
Daemon’s ever erratic mood turns dark and stormy again as soon as we arrive at his estate.
Just like our last visit, Beatrix comes running out of the house to see what all the commotion is. Daemon quickly brings his mother up to speed, and the next thing I know I’m watching a procession of servants filing into the house, dragging more luggage than I would expect to see at baggage claim.
King Thorne steps out of his carriage looking happier than I think I’ve ever seen him. It’s in direct contrast to Daemon, who looks like he’s contemplating violence, and Beatrix who is clearly nervous.
To my relief, there’s no confrontation outside the house. It’s growing late—or rather, early—and Beatrix offers to host the king and his entourage for dinner, which he accepts before following his courtiers inside.
“Where’s Kastian?” Daemon asks the moment Thorne is out of sight.
Beatrix wipes sweat and flyaway hair off her forehead. “Inside. He arrived about an hour ago.”
“Why is Kastian here?” I ask, looking up at Daemon.
“I sent him ahead to warn that we were coming. Thorne has dozens of properties, most closer to the palace than Storia. The only reason he’d choose to come here is to fuck with me and I’m not about to help him do it.”
“Let’s hope that’s all it is,” Beatrix says, shooting a nervous glance at the house.
Daemon gnashes his teeth together, but softens slightly as he throws me a look. “I’m going to find Kas. Do you want to?—”
“Isabelle can help me in the kitchen,” Beatrix announces, reaching out and gripping my arm tightly. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Um, no, of course not.”
Daemon hovers for a moment, watching me, before he finally gives us a nod and strides around the side of the manor toward the garden. Clearly, he thinks I’ll be safe with his mother, but personally, I’m not so sure.
“I’ll warn you, I’m a bad cook,” I say to Beatrix as we stand side by side at the long ceramic kitchen counter. “I’m a microwave kind of girl.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, my stomach drops. Shit, should I not have said that? The real Nana is also a box mac and cheese and frozen vegetables kind of lady, but what was she like sixty years ago? I’m sure I’m drawing unnecessary attention to myself.
To my relief, Beatrix doesn’t say anything about it; she just picks up a knife and begins slicing carrots.
I steal a glance at her again. Daemon doesn’t look like his mother any more than he looks like King Thorne. Her hair is far darker than his and her eyes are hazel. But now that I’m looking for it, I do see a bit of Odessa in Beatrix’s side profile. There’s something about her jawline and expression that’s similar.
I’m still struggling to wrap my mind around how slowly the Fae age. Beatrix looks about forty to me, but Daemon said he’s 121 so she’s got to be at least a few decades older than that. 150? 200?
“Did you make dinner the last time we were here?” I ask, realizing I’ve been staring at her for too long.
She shrugs. “I helped. If I’m honest I won’t do much in the way of cooking this time either.”
I look down at the platters of ingredients on the counter in front of me, and the plate in my hand I was about to use for hors d'oeuvres. “Then what are we doing?”
“I just wanted to talk to you.” Beatrix puts her knife down and turns to me, wiping her hands on her apron. “I know you’re not Isabelle.”
I drop the plate I’m holding with a loud clang. It lands on the floor and rolls on its side across the room, landing under the table with a clatter. “Oh shit, sorry!” I chase after the plate, dropping to my hands and knees to crawl under the table and retrieve it.
Behind me, she makes a clucking noise with her tongue. “Just as clumsy, though…”
“Sorry,” I repeat, crawling out from under the table.
“It’s fine, dear. I have much bigger things to worry about than a plate.”
Right. Of course she does.
I narrow my eyes, scrutinizing her. Surely if she wanted to tell King Thorne, she would have done it after my birthday. Does she want to blackmail me?
“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolds gently. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“How did you know?” I demand, a little more aggressively than I intended to.
She laughs. “Aside from the fact that you’re nothing like her? I met Belle several times when she was here. I assume you’re a relative?”
“Granddaughter,” I say sheepishly.
“Ah. I’m glad to hear that Belle got her happy ending, after all.”
I pause, biting my lip as I grab another plate.
I’m not sure she did, actually. It’s taken me thirty years to notice, but I’m pretty sure my grandparents' marriage was miserable and my mom’s childhood was really weird at the best of times. I think that despite all Nana’s success, she’s unhappy and I don’t know exactly why.
Not that any of that is what I should be worried about right now.
“How did you meet her?” I ask. “She never came here. I’m sure of it, or it would have been in her book.”
Beatrix picks up her knife again and resumes chopping carrots. “I used to be the lady in waiting to all the potential royal brides,” she answers, not meeting my eyes. “By the time Belle arrived, I’d already moved out of the palace and back here. Dessa was grown and filling the role of lady in waiting, but I still dropped in occasionally. Just to check on her.”
I want to hear more about Nana. To know if there’s anything she can tell me that might help explain the king’s behavior or make my performance more believable, but I’m not sure this is the best time. We’re hardly alone.
As if on cue, the king’s voice rings reverberates through the house. I glance over my shoulder toward the closed door to the dining room. Next, Daemon’s loud voice booms over the rest of the chatter. I guess he’s back from talking to Kastian and it sounds like he’s arguing with Thorne— again.
“Should we really talk about this right now?” I hiss. “No one else has noticed I’m not really my Nana. Well, except Odessa.”
“But my son knows.”
It’s not a question, just a statement, but I still nod in confirmation. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Hmm. Are you really planning on marrying the king?”
“No…it’s complicated. Sometimes I’m not really sure what I’m doing here anymore.”
I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Is she angry? Or perhaps worried? Does she think any of this was my idea?
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” she says. “And not just because I saw that dance the last time you were here.”
I flush. I can’t tell if she’s trying to say she wants me to be with Daemon instead of Thorne, or that she thinks I’m not good enough for either of them because I’m lying about who I am. “Just to be clear, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I wasn’t even going to stay, but I don’t know how to get home without help, and?—”
“There’s a portal in the garden,” she interrupts.
I blink at her. “Excuse me?”
She sighs. “My son is an adult, and the gods know I barely even know him. I don’t want to intrude on his business, but if he’s keeping you here against your will, you should know that there’s a portal to the human world in our garden. If you walk through the roses to the stone wall at the back, there’s a small pond. Wade into the pond, and once you’re there, I promise, you can’t miss it.”
“Um, thank you.”
I look out the back window and even though the darkness prevents me from really seeing the garden, knowing it’s there is overwhelming.
Now, what do I do?
Do I want to just leave? Could I walk out there now before anyone even realizes I’m gone?
But then what? I’d never get a chance to say goodbye to Dessa, who was right when she promised that we’d become fast friends. Then there’s the guys. Since they’ve been guarding me, I’ve grown fond of all of them; even-tempered and rational Kastian, ridiculous Jett, with his ever-present smile, and silent, looming Fox.
And of course there’s Daemon. If I leave now, I’ll never see him again.
A sharp pain jolts through me at that thought, and I shake my head, my mind reeling. “What did you mean you don’t really know your own son?”
She sighs. “Ninety years is a long time, even for the Fae, and even before that I didn’t see him often after he went away to school.”
“When was that?” I ask, in spite of myself.
“He must have been about eight? Daemon’s father—my husband, I mean—was a strong presence and he was never all that fond of Daemon for obvious reasons.”
I nod slowly. I guess this is what Daemon meant about having to form his own family. If he left home at eight and was banished to the human world at seventeen, only to come back and get sent to prison—my heart aches with combined sympathy and anger for any child that had to grow up so fast.
“You think I’m a terrible mother,” Beatrix says flatly.
“Oh no, I don’t,” I say quickly. “I assume there weren’t a lot of good options for you either.”
She grimaces. “I don’t know where you’re from or what kind of world you grew up in, but here, if the king tells you to go to his bed, you do it.”
“That’s horrific,” I snap. “That kind of person shouldn’t be king at all.”
She laughs. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could choose our rulers, but alas, that’s not the way things work. I was young and not long married when King Florian first took interest in me. When I got pregnant, I assumed the baby was my husband's, but as time went on and I never had more children and Daemon looked so much like the king…it was clear what happened. I don’t think my husband would have minded so much if no one but us knew, but it was fairly obvious to anyone with eyes. The former Baron of Ashwater wasn’t nearly so handsome.”
I nod, not really sure what to say to that.
“I would have felt guiltier except that I always wanted children, and clearly my husband wasn’t going to be providing me with any. In some ways, I feel lucky.”
I nod again. That much, I do understand. I wanted children for years, but it just didn’t happen. Now I wonder if I dodged a bullet. It would be so much harder to leave my marriage if we had kids. But still…there’s always the what if.
“Anyway,” Beatrix says briskly. “I just wanted to say that I don’t think you should marry the king if you can avoid it. He’s a lot like his father, and both were unfaithful and cold to the women they claimed to love. Even if somehow you break our curse, which I hope you do, your life would be difficult.”
“But would that matter to you?” I ask. “I mean, sorry…I just meant that my life being difficult doesn’t really matter if the trade-off is saving the entire country, right?”
It’s not a rhetorical question; I’m really asking her if she thinks that’s true, because lately I can’t tell. I want someone to explain to me exactly what to do to fix everything and let everyone get exactly what they want.
I want a happily ever after.
Except, I know life doesn’t work that way. In real life, things could always be worse.
“Have you met Aurelia?” Beatrix asks suddenly.
I’m thrown by her sudden change of subject and my brow furrows. “Yes…the last time we were here. Why?”
“If you decide to stay, you should speak with her again. She won’t join us for dinner, but if you wanted to find her after everyone else has gone to bed, you could knock on her door. She sleeps in the little tower at the back of the house.”
I nod, my mind still spinning. “Thank you for the warning. And for telling me about the portal. I really appreciate both.”
She steps back, clearly sensing my unspoken plea to end the conversation. “Oh, can I ask, what’s your name?”
“Alix,” I say dully.
“It was nice to meet you, Alix. If you do decide you want to go for a walk in the garden, I’ll make sure you have a few minutes before anyone comes looking.”
“I hope no one waited for me,” I say with mock cheer as I step into the dining room.
All eyes flick up to me. Beatrix looks satisfied, Daemon relieved, and King Thorne just as inscrutable as always.
I stood in the kitchen for a full five minutes, considering what would happen if I walked out to the garden and left without a word.
The short answer is nothing.
Nothing would happen to me. I’d return to my life completely different, but materially, nothing would change. I still wouldn’t have enough money to leave Ryan. I still wouldn’t know how to stand up for myself. And worst of all I’d be alone, knowing that everyone I’ve come to know here is suffering far more than I am.
I still don’t know what my purpose is here and I haven’t figured out exactly how to help, but I’m not ready to give up yet. At least I’m going to talk to Aurelia as Beatrix suggested and see if she has any insight.
Dinner is a strange and stiff affair. There are many unfamiliar courtiers around the long dining table, and they do the majority of the talking, leaving me free to stew in my own thoughts. The entire time we’re eating, I feel eyes on me. Several times I look up, expecting to find Daemon watching me, but every time it’s Thorne instead. Maybe I should be glad to finally have his attention. Scratch that, I should definitely be glad to finally have his attention, but I swear his eyes on me feel like insects crawling up my skin which makes my stomach churn.
Finally, a servant clears the last of the dessert plates and everyone begins to file upstairs to bed.
If there’s one positive thing about everyone being cursed during the day it’s that there are never any ‘late nights.’ My sleep schedule has never been so regulated.
The king and all the courtiers have already visited their rooms to change for dinner, but I haven’t even seen the second floor of the manor. “Um, which room am I supposed to use?”
“I’ll show you,” Daemon mutters under his breath, grabbing me by the elbow and pulling me toward the stairs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the king watching me closely, his hard gaze on Daemon’s hand on my arm. Quickly, I shrug him off. “Directions will be fine. I assume I’ll have the room next to His Majesty?”
Daemon’s eyes narrow for a second and I see anger flash across his face before he quickly represses it. His posture shifts, back to the lazy self-assured stance I’ve come to realize he only adopts when trying to draw less attention. “Exactly. Thorne, you can show Isabelle to her room, right? I know it’s probably beneath His Majesty, but since you said you never get to spend any time with her…”
I know I was the one to start this, but why is he pushing it further?
Thorne glares at Daemon as he holds out his arm to me and leads me up the stairs. I have no choice but to follow even as my heart is pounding so loud in my chest I think everyone must hear it. All I can think of is Beatrix saying, “Here, when the king invites you to his bed, you go.”
“It’s a quaint house,” Thorne remarks snidely as he leads me up the stairs. “But I suppose that’s good for our purposes. No one would ever expect to find me here.”
I nod, even as I firmly disagree. To him, the estate might be “quaint” but I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
The upstairs of the Ashwater Estate is just as lovely as the rest of the house. It’s homier than the palace, with dark wood floors and deep red patterned wallpaper. The grand stairs lead up to a landing which splits in two directions, with long halls on either side, undoubtedly leading to many guest rooms. There are at least thirty courtiers here and Beatrix didn’t seem the least bit concerned with fitting everyone.
Thorne walks me stiffly to the end of the hall and stops in front of a door. He turns in, caging me against the wall with his body. “I regret not spending more time with you since you’ve arrived, Isabelle.”
Inside, I’m screaming. You regret not spending more time with the one person you think could save your kingdom? Yeah, I think you’ve finally got something right. You should feel like shit, you cold, inscrutable asshole. What the hell were you thinking?!
Out loud, I say, “I’m sure you were busy.”
“I intended to spend all of yesterday with you.” I blink at him in evident confusion, so he adds, “At the ball.”
“Oh, right, of course. If only your court would stop trying to kill me…”
I don’t really mean it as a joke, but he chuckles anyway, leaning slightly closer.
Instinctively, I look up, trying to maintain eye contact.
Whenever we eat dinner, we sit so far from each other that I can’t really read his micro expressions, and yesterday when we were dancing, I was just trying not to trip. Now, I scan over his face closely for the first time since the day I arrived. Objectively, he’s absurdly handsome, just like the character I always pictured. His jaw is sharp, but perhaps too square. His eyes are pale blue, but there’s no heat in them.
After a second, I realize I’m not actually looking at the king for him; I’m looking for similarities to Daemon.
My stomach gives another unpleasant lurch, like the feeling I used to get if I didn’t finish my homework on time.
Whatever barrage of insanity is flying through my head, the king doesn’t seem to be suffering from the same problem. His pale eyes track over me, and for the first time since the day I arrived, he actually seems to look . “Fortunately, now that we’re away from the palace I have nothing but time to time to dedicate to you.”
I suck in a breath. “That’s amazing.”
Thorne flashes me a satisfied smile. He opens the door to his room and motions for me to follow him into his bedroom. “Come inside.”
Real panic wells up in me and my heart starts racing. “I’m actually really tired from the trip, so…”
“Too tired for a nightcap?”
Internally, I roll my eyes. Come in for a drink? While I’m at it, I think I’ll jump into his white van to see a puppy. “No really, I’m fine.”
Annoyance colors his expression for a moment, but he quickly hides it. “At least let me say a proper goodnight.”
He leans his arm against the wall, boxing me in.
Oh my God.
Okay, stay calm…this is good, right?
I want King Thorne to be interested in Isabelle. I want him to fall in love with her. But that’s only an abstract thought where “Isabelle” is basically Rose from A Kingdom of Thorns . She’s not me, she’s a character…this nebulous concept of a person and not me or my Nana.
The scent of the king’s cologne overwhelms me and my heart starts pounding so loud I know he can hear it. I’m sure that he’s about to kiss “Isabelle.” Except, I, Alix, feel like I’m going to throw up. Or faint. Maybe both at once.
Thorne leans closer and suddenly a sharp pain stabs through my head. Like a migraine, but concentrated all at once right behind my right eye. I let out a yelp and I quickly jerk my head to the side, narrowly avoiding his lips.
My hand flies to my head, just as Thorne pulls back and glares at me. His large hand snaps out and he grips my chin, forcing my face up to meet his.
A crash, like breaking glass, shatters through the quiet of the house.
I jump and spin around, searching for the source of the sound.
“What the fuck was that?” Thorne barks, his face twisting in anger.
“Um, I don’t know,” I stammer, my heartbeat still pounding out of control. “Probably a sign I should go to bed, though. You never know—the rain could be slowing down, and I wouldn’t want to be around for that.”
“No…” Thorne says slowly. “We wouldn’t want that.”
I duck out from under his arm, immensely relieved he doesn’t try to stop me. “Well, goodnight!”
Without another word, I open the door behind me and slip inside, shutting it with a snap. The room smells familiar and inviting, like cedar and cinnamon. I let out a long breath and lean against the door, my eyes closed with relief. The pain in my head is gone just as quickly as it came, but I still feel a bit dizzy.
After a long second, I open my eyes and push away from the door.
The room is large, with vaulted ceilings and wooden beams crisscrossing overhead. It’s more masculine than the rooms I’ve slept in at the palace and seems sturdier somehow, with thick rugs, dark wood, and a Tudor-style canopy bed in the center of the room.
I jump in surprise as my eyes dart over the bed. My eyes fly open in shock, and a little shriek escapes my mouth. “Daemon! Fuck, you scared me.”
Daemon is sitting on the bed, head bent. He’s so still that for a second, I didn’t even see him, the red fabric of his jacket blending well with the oxblood curtains around the bed.
As I step closer, he looks up at me. “Did he touch you?”
I’m a little taken aback by the look on his face. His eyes are blazing, with anger or…something else I don’t quite understand. “How did you get in here?”
At my question, Daemon jerks his chin toward something to the right. I glance over and spot a shattered window. “You couldn’t have just opened it?”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
“Right…”
I guess that explains the noise…
I sigh and turn to lock the door behind me, then stride over to the edge of the bed.
“Did he touch you?” Daemon asks again, more forcefully this time.
“Not really,” I mutter.
Growling low in the back of his throat, he gets abruptly to his feet. “Be specific, Alix.”
“No. He tried to kiss me but the window breaking startled him and I left. You know what’s really fucked up though? He’s not doing anything wrong in his mind. Isabelle is supposed to be marrying him, not you.”
Daemon stalks toward me, his gaze dark with fury. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“Of course, I just?—”
He grips the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair. He jerks my face up to his. “Don’t you think it’s killing me to have to sit here and wait for you instead of?—”
“Instead of what?” I ask urgently.
He doesn’t respond, and I have only a second to suck in a breath before he’s spinning me around and pushing me backward against the bed. Daemon lands over me, his arms straining as he holds himself off me. “I’m going out of my fucking mind here, Alix. The only thing that has kept me from blowing up this entire damn thing is that Thorne hasn’t shown that much interest in you. But now?—”
I laugh, almost nervously. I’m not afraid of him, but I’m afraid of whatever stupid thing is about to come out of my mouth. If he keeps talking like this, looking at me like he can’t live without me… “I never would have gone into his room, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“But you said before that you’d marry him.”
“Yeah, but…” I break off.
“But what?” Daemon demands, his face still mere inches from mine.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
I can’t say it—that I only said that so I could have stayed with him. I can’t even think it because not only would marrying Thorne so I can stay here with Daemon be morally fucked and unfair to everyone, I’m not even sure it would be possible. The Fae are possessive, and didn’t Daemon say they biologically can’t cheat on their partners? Would this count? Ugh, I’m going out of my mind.
His eyes track my face, like he’s trying to memorize every single detail. “You make me feel fucking crazy.”
My lips part and my chest heaves with every breath. “Likewise.”
Pointedly, his eyes fixate on mine, and he lowers himself more deliberately over me. He reaches down and cups me between the legs.
I let out a hiss as his fingers brush over me.
“What’s wrong?” he demands.
“Just…sore.”
I haven’t had so much sex in such a short period of time in…ever. I’ve never done this, not even when I was first married. And I’ve certainly never had sex several times in a row without being able to shower in between.
Like he can read my mind, Daemon nods and pushes off me, standing straight.
For a moment, it’s all I can do not to whine in protest, but then he reaches down and scoops me up.
“What are you doing?” I demand as he carries me bridal-style off the bed and across the room.
“You need a bath. And frankly, I need to calm down before I do something I can’t take back.”
I bite my lip. I really want him to explain what he means by that, but maybe it’s better not to hear it. Daemon carries me across the room in two strides and shoulders open a door I hadn’t noticed before.
We’re standing in a bathing room, smaller than the ones in the palace but no less immaculately decorated. The floor and walls are polished red marble while the bathtub is made from what looks like solid bronze.
“You certainly seem to know your way around the guest rooms,” I mutter, for lack of anything else to say.
Daemon puts me down and bends to turn on the faucets. “This isn’t a guest room. This is my room—or, it was, when I lived here.”
I blink in surprise. I’m not sure what to make of the fact that he wanted me to sleep in his room, even expecting that he wouldn’t be in here with me. I don’t know what to make of it.
Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly what to make of it.
I know exactly what all of these tiny gestures added together mean, but I’m afraid to voice it out loud because the second I do is the second it becomes real.
Daemon straightens, standing in front of me as the tub begins to fill. I tip my face up to his again, my gaze meeting his in invitation.
He reaches out, slowly, and grips the ribbons holding my bodice together. I suck in a breath as he tugs, and the front of the dress pops open, cold air brushing against my skin.
“You’re giving me a complex,” I whisper, reaching up to run my hands over the lapels of his jacket.
His voice sounds ragged when he replies, “Why?”
“I’m always naked around you, and you’re always so put together.”
He growls a low sound. “If you were inside my head, you wouldn’t think I was put together. The opposite, actually. I feel like my brain fractures around you. I’m a fucking mess.”
My fingers trace down to the button of his jacket, and I play with it for a second before sliding it through the loop. “If I ask you to stay, are you going to argue with me about how someone might hear us?”
“I don’t care anymore if anyone hears us.” He reaches up and circles my wrists with his large fingers, holding on to me as I finish unbuttoning his jacket. “I should care, but I can’t make myself walk away from you.”
My chest squeezes. “Good.”
My heart pounds, and heat drenches my core as we finish undressing, and I step into the bath. After a moment’s indecision, Daemon sinks into the water behind me and pulls me back against his chest.
The moment our skin touches, I feel my entire body relax, even more than it did from the hot water alone.
For several long moments, we sit there, saying nothing.
I could do this every day.
I know I’m not supposed to think like that, but I can’t help it. I could easily see a future where I spend my evenings sitting in comfortable silence with Daemon, not feeling the need to fill the air with anxious chitchat. It’s a future I want, and yet, I can’t see any world where that would be possible. Maybe if he came back to the human realm with me? He’s lived there before, it would be hard but possible. But what about his friends? Odessa and the guys, who are slowly becoming my friends as well?
“What are you thinking?” Daemon asks.
“Way too much,” I breathe.
He chuckles softly, and I feel the rumble of his chest through my back. Without seeming to think about it, he raises a hand and draws it lazily down the length of my hair.
“Do you think the king did this on purpose?”
I feel him shift, and can hear the frown in his voice. “What do you mean?”
I trail my fingers in the water, unsure of exactly the right words. “I mean…you hate each other. Do you think he wanted to come to your house and finally wanted me to go to bed with him?—”
Daemon growls, cutting me off. “I don’t want to think about that.”
“Well, exactly,” I insist. “Do you think somehow he knows about this? Is he trying to piss you off?”
“I doubt it.” He sighs and wraps his tattooed arms more tightly around me and presses his face into the crook of my neck from behind. “I’d like to think Thorne cares more about his kingdom than to waste the last days he has to save them playing some juvenile mind games to fuck with me, but I don’t think that highly of him. He was cursed because he doesn’t care about anyone but himself and apparently a century wasn’t enough to fix him. He doesn’t care about the court.”
“So why don’t you think this was about you?”
“Because if he knew I cared that he tried to fuck you, he would have done it at dinner in front of me.”
I choke. “What?”
“Sorry,” Daemon says, not sounding apologetic at all. “But bluntly, when the curse first began, two thirds of the most brutal attacks were his doing. His instinctive self is violent and brutal.”
“Like a beast,” I mumble, thinking of A Kingdom of Thorns .
I can easily picture the king doing horrible things while under the influence of the curse. Even though he’s never been violent toward me, unless you count yelling, there’s something off in his gaze. An instinctual feeling that would make me turn around and walk in the other direction if I saw him on the street, no matter how handsome he is. If King Thorne had been the one outside my door the day I found out about the curse, I know it would have turned out differently.
On the other hand, there’s Daemon, who didn’t seem much different at all while the curse was active. Who looked at me just the same as he always does. Who just wanted to protect me…
“How do soul-bonds work?” I blurt out.
He stiffens behind me and his hand stills in my hair. “That’s a fucking abrupt change of subject. Why?”
Actually, it doesn’t feel that abrupt to me. It feels like exactly what I should be asking—what I should have asked days ago.
“Just answer the question. You brought it up before but you didn’t really explain it. How does it work?”
He shifts once more, running his fingers down the length of my hair several times, like he’s using the movement to cover his thought process. I could swear it feels like the air hums between us.
“No one really knows,” he says finally. “The general consensus is that bonds aren’t fated or pre-chosen, they’re formed over time—usually from emotionally intense connections or shared experience. Not everyone who is married in Ellender is bonded, but most are, either from the start or after a while. We can date or have casual partners, but if a bond doesn’t form, most Fae will move on and keep searching.”
“So once bonded, you can never be with anyone else?”
“I don’t think anyone bonded would want to try it, but I’ve heard it causes extreme disgust and often pain if you try.”
“What does it feel like? The bond I mean?”
He’s silent for another long second, and I hear him suck in a breath. “You’d have to ask someone bonded. I could only guess.”
My heart squeezes.
I don’t know whether I want to believe he’s lying, or I’m glad he didn’t blurt out something crazy…like maybe that I’m his soul-bond.