Chapter 1
CHAPTER
I have a mate.
My logical side struggled to reconcile the notion, pushing back against the new declaration.
However, something else—possibly my heart—knew it was true.
Suddenly, the irritating hum that had sat beneath my skin ever since arriving at the Offering could no longer be denied.
Akin to finding the other end of a long rope that had been tethered all along. But to what? I had no idea.
Varro may not have been forthcoming, but Trace’s lack of honesty about his identity seemed calculated.
Despite all the time we’d spent together, in many ways, Trace and I remained strangers.
He only grew more distant once we could no longer hide behind the facades we had created.
I might never understand how he could so easily deny me in these circumstances, while Varro proclaimed our intertwined fates.
Perhaps it all came down to choice. Trace refused to stake claim over my heart. Varro had known all along we were fated, and let me feign choice in the matter. The Gods are cruel indeed. Memories flood the forefront of my mind.
The first time I saw Varro, my keen awareness of his presence and striking features were quickly overtaken by my own prejudice and misinformed judgements.
Despite this, he remained completely devoted to patience.
Every day he tried to show me something authentic.
My inclination was to combat his every remark, remain rigid in my defense of Trace, and write off any minor connection we had to disregard the friendship we were forming.
Dare I say, trusting him to the point of relying on him.
When I needed someone to second my cause for Nori, he was the first to take a stance.
When I deserved silence, he gave answers.
And when the shadow of death came for us both, he embraced me, ready to greet the Gods together.
The others only voiced their concerns, or simply succumbed to their own trepidation, offering worried glances now that I was capable of dark magic.
But not even that would dissuade Varro from his commitment to me. As a friend. As a member of the Imperi.
As his mate.
But amongst those memories were also recollections of Saryn’s flippant, negative remarks about mates and Gia’s warning, all now reverberating through me.
“Count yourself lucky you’re not bonded.”
I had not bound myself to Varro, and yet the idea of suffering any semblance of the pain Gia had endured was enough to deter me.
Lost in a labyrinth of my own thoughts, each turn I took led to another passageway darkened by more questions and doubts. Still, I continued my uneasy daydream, sinking deeper into the maze until Varro’s quiet, shaky voice broke through and provided escape.
“Cress…”
I looked up to meet his crystal-blue eyes, swimming with a mixture of emotions, rolling like the waves of an ocean.
Fear. Longing. Concern. Rejection. Hope. Relief.
“I…I need time. Tell no one,” I replied, unable to find the appropriate response to convey anything other than a mess of words that would come out all wrong and lack any of the right intentions.
I turned to walk away from him, knowing full well that no matter how far I distanced myself, the pull of our bond was inescapable.
As I turned on my heel, he said, “I won’t. This has been my secret since the moment I laid eyes on you—and now it’s our secret. Meet me back here tonight? Please?”
I gave him a nod and saw relief wash over him as his strong, broad shoulders relaxed.
Walking back to my room, his words “since the moment I laid eyes on you” reminded me how, all of this time, he had been certain of his feelings while I remained completely unaware. Another shameful moment of naivety. One of many I’d swallowed since arriving at Basdie.
I passed Cairis and Nori without a word. They were both lounging in the common room with their noses in books; each glanced up, looking at me with a hint of concern, but said nothing.
In the privacy of my room, I could finally think without the overwhelming presence of my supposed mate hovering nearby.
Mates are not that common. What are the odds that I would be destined for one at all, let alone find them after being conscripted to the Imperi?
Worse yet, that I might be shackled to the son of my father’s sole enemy?
Thank the Gods I’d never have to see the horror on my parents’ faces when they discovered their daughter was tied to a disgraced bloodline.
Between the rawness of this revelation and the recent discoveries of dark wielding, I was overwhelmed—to say the least. My chest tightened into a familiar knot, constricting my breath as I fought back the emotions welling in my eyes, threatening to escape.
I was determined to learn how to control my anxiety. I’d swallow it whole and find a way to convert that energy into something more useful.
Anger. Revenge. Focus. Strength.
I’d been reading how Dark Wielders, more than anything, had to master their emotions.
It was when their emotions got the best of them that they lost control—resulting in unwanted consequences, such as shaking an entire mountain.
I’m surprised Saryn wasn’t knocking down my door for an explanation.
I reasoned that he might as well get used to it if he wanted me to practice this ability.
My clothes were still wet from the mist behind the falls when I dropped onto my bed. I felt the crumpling of paper digging into my leg from my pocket and remembered what Trace had given me before he and Gia left to make their way south.
I ran my fingers along the damp edges of the parchment, nervous to unfold it. Questioning if I wanted to at all. As much as I sought to shut the door on Trace completely, he was like a tiny open wound that refused to heal. Why does my mind find itself fixating on him even when I command it not to?
He didn’t choose me.
He betrayed me.
He left me for dead.
These were the things I would repeat to myself any time a modicum of forgiveness crept into the corners of my thoughts.
Trace remained my teammate, and we were still Imperi.
Nothing more, nothing less. And, now that I had a supposed mate, what did that mean for any predilections I had for another male—past, present, or future?
We shouldn’t bond. That was a gift reserved for two people in love that wanted to bind their souls.
But, regardless, we were still connected for an eternity, and had no control over it.
Had anyone ever sealed the bond as friends?
Is that what Varro and I would be expected to do if Saryn or Theory ever uncovered the truth?
A forced solution to what would be a tactical advantage.
Mind-melding would surely come in handy once we both headed south, but I couldn’t fathom doing the ‘act’ with someone merely for the sake of the Imperi.
And what of the people we might have to perform ‘acts’ with because of the mission…
How could two bonded souls possibly navigate the intricacies of such an impossible situation without hurting one another?
My thoughts spiraled down that familiar labyrinth once again until I realized there was a question—possibly the most important one—I’d been avoiding asking myself: Do I have any real feelings for Varro?
Would I let myself explore those feelings even if I did?
There were too many complications. Gia endured the pain of a severed bond.
What would she think of me having a mate?
Would Trace even be able to look at us, let alone fight alongside us?
Saryn and Theory might exploit the powers we’d gain.
At the end of a very long list, what we were really up against was the notion that we’d gain something that everyone else had lost.
Each of us had severed our ties from family and lovers alike.
We were all destined for a singular future as the unseen peacekeepers of his majesty, the king.
What fairness lay in Varro and I claiming more than that?
Having semblance of comfort and safety in the arms of another, the urge to aid each other before all others.
Our group dynamic had barely recovered before Gia and Trace departed for Artume.
Varro had not voiced any true feelings for me; only stated what he believed to be a fact.
For all I knew, he was just as hesitant as I was to explore our bond in any capacity.
But since he’d known about this far longer than I, he’d had much more time to play out the various outcomes, while I was just beginning to wrap my mind around them.
Maybe if I met with him tonight as he requested, he would set my mind at ease.
What if he had already thought this through, and only meant to assure me that we’d remain purely platonic?
Flashes of those moments consumed me. Countless nights in the healing pools, his strong, skilled hands kneading my skin.
Gently removing clothing from my injured body.
His refusal to leave my side as arrows rained down upon us, and the occasional stolen glances that he didn’t think I ever noticed…
I was almost certain that Varro’s feelings were not wholly platonic.
And there was the way he had said my nickname all those times.
Moirai… The words carried an unanswered longing when he spoke them.
Why call me “fated one” if he did not believe I would ever fulfill that role?
To call me a mate sounded technical, even practical.
But fated one… It was teeming with want.
I sighed, returning from the fog of distraction, ready to conquer my reluctant curiosity.
I unfolded the single piece of paper, my nerves on edge as I braced myself for the words that might make sense of his betrayal.
To my surprise, a sketch filled the page.
One that was undoubtedly done by his hand.
The normal, all-black charcoal, devoid of any other color.
It was a drawing of the night sky over the Elorn Mountains.
Amongst a moonless scene, there were only stars drawn to exemplify their twinkle.
Below it in his handwriting were the words:
Stars shine brightest in the dark.
Written in the script of the old tongue…
The cryptic words felt hollow, and yet I longed to uncover his intent.
But more than that, my heart sank at the realization of another secret he had been keeping from me.
Every lie, every glamour, every layer peeled back, pierced through me with indescribable sadness—and fury. Had I ever really known him?