Chapter 15
GWEN
As I finally get dressed for the day, donning the green gown trimmed in fur, I look at the boxes that contain all the new clothing and shoes Merak bought me.
Surely we can’t fit all these items in his rucksack.
I suppose most will have to be left behind here.
I try to push away the pang of sadness that accompanies this realization.
I’ve never been a materialistic person, but I will mourn these clothes simply because Merak gave them to me.
I know he promised to have clothing tailor-made for me once we reach the war camp, but these items represent one of the very first acts of kindness he showed me.
The war camp…
Gods. We will travel there soon.
A shiver rushes through me at the thought.
Tomorrow, we will depart Ellonnar and head for the Winter Court army.
A few times, I’ve sensed Merak’s reluctance to take me there, but he hasn’t mentioned any alternative plans, so I assume that is where we are going.
It’s my understanding that Helena is living in the war camp with King Theron, and I can’t help but wonder how she is faring.
Is it difficult for her to watch tribute-cursed slaves being mistreated?
I remind myself that even if some of the tribute-cursed slaves are being treated well, they are still not free. They are still slaves.
I am still a slave.
At least, I think I am.
Yes, I am also Merak’s mate, but before that I was a tribute-cursed slave, and then I was a slave bought off an auction platform.
I glance at the closed bedroom door, thankful that Merak told me to take my time getting dressed.
The meaningful look he gave me as he said it, as well as the surge of warmth he sent through the bond, made me understand that he hoped I would use the time to gather my thoughts, in private, and consider how I truly feel about the fact that we are mates.
My heart races. For a moment, panic starts to rise, though it just as quickly fades. On the surface, the idea of belonging to a highborn fae male is terrifying, but the prospect of belonging to Merak doesn’t frighten me the way it did just a few days ago.
Not only do I trust him, but I am also falling for him.
Hopelessly, madly, and deeply.
The realization should scare me. Instead, it’s a comfort. It causes a calming sense of peace that spreads through my chest. And I am starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, we might find real happiness together.
Even if I weren’t his slave, he would not free me—because I am his mate, and fae males are possessive of their females.
As I think of my family, I feel myself soften further toward Merak. Not only will he allow me to write to them, he says he will take me to visit them. He’s also promised to provide for them, whatever they might need. I can scarcely believe a Winter Court lord could be so generous.
Again, I think of the kindness Merak has shown me since we first locked eyes in the remote mountain village only a few days ago, and my throat tightens.
He could’ve been cruel. He could’ve kept my wrists bound as he flew me away from the village, but he didn’t.
Instead, he used his winter magic to remove the bindings, draped my cloak over me, even pulling up the hood, trying to make me as comfortable as possible before he finally swept me into his arms and flew me away from that awful village.
Then he stopped in a clearing when he sensed I was injured. He’d smelled my festering wounds. At the time, I found his worry for me confusing. I didn’t understand it. But now it all makes sense. From the moment he first laid eyes on me, he knew we were mates.
My throat tightens anew as I consider how he healed my wounds so gently, then gave me water and food. And he didn’t rush me. Using his wings to keep me shielded from the snow and wind, he waited patiently as I ate and drank my fill.
He’s not used to expressing tenderness, displaying patience, or showing compassion. I know this. I’ve sensed the darkness in him. I’ve also sensed the loneliness, a loneliness so deep it sometimes feels endless, and I suspect there is a story behind it.
We’re still getting to know one another, I remind myself.
Suddenly, the answer becomes clear to me.
I will agree to mate with Merak.
Not today, and probably not tomorrow.
But I will. Eventually.
Despite all the fears I once harbored, and the few that remain, I know it with startling certainty. The realization, the answer to my dilemma, settles over me so abruptly and completely that I find myself blinking back tears of relief.
I want Merak. I truly do. Not only his touch, not only the bond, but I want him.
Perhaps his possessive nature should alarm me more, but I find it doesn’t.
I want the male who wraps his wings around me when I’m cold and kisses my knuckles as though I’m precious…
the male who buys me books and seems content to watch me read by the fire.
The male who has promised never to hurt me.
The male who’s going to make sure I see my family again.
But what is the rush?
We are mates, and once we consummate our union, my lifespan will match his. We will live for thousands of years.
Thousands.
The thought still feels impossible.
Surely there is time for us to get to know one another better first. Time for me to learn the secrets hidden beneath his darkness. Time for him to tell me about the loneliness he carries and the sorrows behind the haunted look that often fills his eyes. Even time for him to learn more about me.
Though we don’t know one another yet, not truly, he still seems completely enthralled by me. Sometimes, however, I worry that he’ll realize I’m the strange girl from Braemar that no other male wanted.
I push this worry aside and remind myself of all the times he’s pointed out landmarks on a map and described them to me, and all the times he’s brought me a new book from the library in the suite, claiming it holds information about trade routes or the history of the realm that I might find interesting.
Well, he seems to like my strangeness. He likes the parts of me that no one else ever has. The parts of me that others usually mock.
Thousands of years.
Gods.
That is how long we will have together.
A smile tugs at my lips.
Yes, I will mate with Merak. But will he become discouraged when I tell him I want to wait for us to become better acquainted?
My face heats as I remember the intimacies we shared earlier in the day… the pleasure he brought me. And the pleasure I brought him. A heated quiver rushes through me.
Well, I suppose sharing moments like that could be considered part of us getting to know one another better before he fully claims me. It’s not as though I will be asking him to keep his hands to himself until I’m ready for the final act that will seal the bond between us.
Feeling oddly lighter, I kneel beside the clothing boxes and begin sorting through them, trying to figure out what might realistically fit in his rucksack. But when I reach for the bag itself, intending to estimate how much room remains, I pause.
Then I stare.
My mouth falls open.
Dozens of small treasures and trinkets rest inside the rucksack. A painted wooden bird. Hair ribbons. A glass sphere filled with glittering snow. Tiny carved animals. Ornate buttons. A hand mirror decorated with white gemstones. A pouch filled with peppermints… and another filled with candied nuts.
I blink. Once. Twice.
What in the realm...?
Slowly, realization dawns.
The marketplace.
I think of all the times I’d wandered slightly ahead of Merak, utterly captivated by Ellonnar. The floating ice clouds. The musicians. The snowy streets and strange new sights. The glimmering, ussha-blessed frost that covered the vegetation within the settlement and beyond.
Gods.
While I’d been gawking at everything like a bewildered child, Merak had apparently been secretly buying me gifts.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
The sneaky fae male.
I truly had no idea.
Whenever he’d asked if I wished for him to purchase a particular item for me, I had declined every time. How could I have accepted? I was still feeling overwhelmed by the clothes and shoes he’d given me earlier that morning.
Suspecting Merak wants to give me these items on his own time, I rush to put everything back in place, not wanting him to know what I discovered. But I can’t keep the smile from my face.
I carefully close the rucksack and rise to my feet. My eyes drift toward the floor-length mirror near the windows, and for a moment, I simply gaze at my reflection.
The woman staring back at me hardly looks familiar.
The dark circles that are usually present beneath my eyes have faded, and my cheeks hold a touch of color for the first time in a long time.
The green gown fits me beautifully, and after everything that’s happened over the last month, starting with the attack on Braemar, I scarcely recognize myself looking so healthy. So alive. And yes, even happy.
I smooth my palms over the fur-lined skirt of the gown, then lift a hand to tame a few stubborn strands of hair.
The ribbons in Merak’s rucksack would come in handy right now, though I don’t feel bold enough to take one.
I pick up the brush from the vanity and try to coax my wavy locks into place as best I can.
I have no idea why I suddenly care so much about looking presentable.
Well, that isn’t quite true.
I know exactly why.
Heat sears my cheeks.
After setting the brush aside, I draw in a slow breath and make my way toward the bedroom door. I emerge into the hallway and glance around the open areas of the suite, but I don’t immediately spot my mate.
I expect to find Merak waiting near the balcony doors, perhaps staring out at the ussha-blessed landscape and the ice clouds. Or seated at the desk in the library writing a letter to King Theron or Commander Ashvale. But he’s in neither of those places.
Instead, I find him in the sitting room.
Utterly shocked, I stare.
He is asleep.
He lies stretched across the sofa near the fire, and the bird is curled contentedly in the crook of his arm, nestled in the folded blanket I made into a nest yesterday. The bird is awake, its beady black eyes taking me in as I stand in the doorway, but it seems perfectly calm.
For a long moment, I simply stand there.
I always like it when I awake before Merak so I can watch him as he sleeps. He looks different in sleep. Peaceful. Even a bit younger.
And as I watch him sleeping now, with the bird tucked safely against him and firelight dancing across his face, I suddenly cannot imagine a future where I do not fall hopelessly in love with him.
My savage lord.
Gods help me. I think I already am.