Chapter 8 #2
I stared at her, my hands balling into fists as rage and helplessness warred within me. This woman who had never known chains had the audacity to dictate my purpose, to tell me I would be content to live as a pampered pet while others suffered.
"And what exactly would you have me do instead?
" I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
"Spend my days in these luxurious rooms, draped in silks and jewels while your people fight and die?
A pretty bird in a gilded cage, meant to look decorative and keep your precious shadow mage from going mad. "
Aytara's dark eyes narrowed. "You are alive, which is more than most Imperials who discover our city can claim. Be grateful for that much."
"Grateful?" I laughed bitterly. "For what? For being claimed against my will? For being bound to a man whose mind is slowly being consumed by darkness? For losing everything and everyone I ever cared about?" My voice broke on the last words, and I hated myself for the weakness.
“Much is lost in war,” said Aytara. “I will see you again soon.” She turned and left us alone among the impossible flowers and singing waters of the garden.
Taveth was quiet for a long moment, shadows still writhing around him as he processed what he had witnessed.
I watched Aytara's retreating form, a cold fury building inside me that had nothing to do with Taveth's shadows. She had dismissed me—dismissed my abilities, my determination, my very worth as anything more than a decorative mate for her precious shadow mage.
"You're shaking," Taveth observed, his voice calmer now though the shadows still swirled around his ankles like restless serpents.
"I'm angry," I replied, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be told your only value is in being someone's possession? To be denied any purpose beyond existing for another's comfort?"
"You would leave me," he said finally, his voice so low I almost didn't hear it. "You would break our bond."
I turned to face him, exhaustion suddenly weighing on me like a physical burden. "That's not what I said."
"It's what you meant." His eyes were cold, but beneath the anger I caught a glimpse of something else—pain, raw and unexpected. "You would return to the Empire, to your other mates, and leave me to the Veyr-sha. Is that truly how you see your life with me? As imprisonment?"
I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my emotions. The mate bond made lying to him nearly impossible, but I could still choose my words carefully.
The accusation struck deeper than I wanted to admit. I knew what breaking the mate bond would do to him—how it would leave him vulnerable to the darkness that already whispered at the edges of his consciousness. But I couldn't bear the thought of remaining passive, decorative, useless.
"I see a life without meaning," I said finally. "I was a fighter, Taveth. A gladiator, yes, but also someone who fought for a cause greater than myself. Now I'm..." I gestured at my expensive clothing, the jewels that adorned my wrists and throat. "Now I'm decorative. Useless."
"You are far from useless, Aeveth. You are the only thing keeping the darkness at bay."
His words hung between us, heavy with a truth I hadn't fully acknowledged. The mate bond wasn't just about possession or control—it was keeping him sane, keeping the shadows from consuming what remained of the man.
"I didn't ask for this responsibility," I said quietly. "To be your anchor against the darkness."
Taveth's expression softened slightly. "Neither did I ask to be shadow-touched. We don't always choose our burdens, Aeveth."
I turned away from him, walking to the edge of one of the garden pools.
My reflection stared back at me, adorned and beautiful but hollow-eyed.
The woman I saw there was a stranger—dressed in finery, her hair arranged in the Talfen style, her neck heavy with beads that concealed the truth of who she was and who she belonged to.
"I can't live like this," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "I'll go mad."
I felt him approach, his footsteps nearly silent on the stone path. The shadows around him had calmed somewhat, no longer writhing with malevolent intent but still present, still watching.
"Then tell me what you need," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "Not what Aytara needs, or what I need. What do you need to feel whole again?"
The question caught me off guard. In all our time together, he had never asked me that directly. He had given me what he thought I should want—luxury, protection, physical pleasure - but none of it mattered.
“I need them,” I whispered.
"The men you left behind. You loved them."
Again, lying seemed pointless. "Yes."
"More than you could ever love me."
The certainty in his voice broke my heart, because it was probably true and we both knew it. The bond I shared with Marcus, Sirrax, Septimus, Antonius, Jalend and Tarshi was deep, and undeniable.
"Love isn't a competition," I said gently. "There are different kinds, different depths. What I feel for you is real, even if it's different from what I felt for them."
"But if they were still alive, if they came for you, you would choose them over me."
I wanted to deny it, to reassure him that his fears were groundless. But we both deserved better than comfortable lies.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I hope I will never be forced to make that choice."
He smiled, but there was no humour in the expression. "So do I," he said quietly. "Because I'm not sure I could let them take you away, and I would hate to see you cry when I tore them apart.”