Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
A n awkward silence descended. Bryn cleared her throat. “I should probably head out too. Early meeting tomorrow with the library foundation.” She hugged Thora impulsively. “This was fun! We should get coffee sometime. I want to hear more about your sabertooth techniques. Maybe you could even show me a few moves.”
The genuine enthusiasm in Bryn’s voice caught Thora off guard. “Um, sure. Maybe.”
“Great!” Bryn beamed as if Thora had agreed to be her best friend forever. “And don’t worry about Grandma. She means well, she’s just been waiting decades for Artair to find someone who can match him.”
“We’re not matched,” Thora clarified, though the words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.
“The honey cake challenge suggests otherwise.” Bryn winked. “Nobody’s ever matched him bite for bite before. That means something in bear culture.”
Before Thora could process that information, Bryn was hugging her brother and then dragging Jash toward the door despite his protests that he hadn’t finished asking Thora about her tracking methods.
“We can continue our professional discussion tomorrow,” Jash called as Bryn pulled him away. “I have seventeen more questions about your magical signature identification process!”
Then the door closed behind them, and Thora and Artair were alone in the large room, the fire casting dancing shadows across the wooden floors.
“Your family is...”
“Overwhelming?” he suggested.
“I was going to say ‘intense,’ but that works too.” Thora stood, needing to move. The honey cake sat heavy in her stomach, and the memory of their sustained eye contact made her skin tingle. “Your grandmother seems convinced we’re... something.”
Artair ran a hand through his freshly groomed hair, disrupting Eira’s careful work. “She’s traditional. Any proximity between bears and potential mates triggers her matchmaking instincts.”
“I’m not a potential mate,” Thora said quickly, ignoring the way her sabertooth stirred in protest at the denial.
“Of course not.” His response came equally fast, though something flickered in his eyes that contradicted his words.
The tether pulsed gently between them, a silent reminder of their forced connection.
“So,” Thora glanced around, desperate to change the subject. “Where do we go from here? Literally, I mean. This thing won’t let us separate.”
Artair straightened, business-like again. “I have a cabin on the property. You can stay there tonight. It has separate bedrooms.”
“That works,” she nodded, relieved at the prospect of some privacy, however limited by their magical situation. “I’ll scoot the bed next to the door and you can sleep in the hall.”
He just shook his head and rolled his eyes.
Outside, the night air cooled Thora’s flushed skin as they walked a winding path through towering pines. Moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating their way alongside the magical floating orbs that marked the paths.
Artair’s cabin turned out to be yet another example of Maxen understatement—a stunning two-story structure of glass and timber that dominated a small clearing. Inside, rustic luxury greeted them: leather furniture, a stone fireplace, and wide windows that showcased the forest beyond.
“Guest room is upstairs to the right,” Artair said, moving to activate the automated fireplace. “Bathroom’s en suite. There should be extra towels and toiletries.”
Thora nodded, painfully aware of how the tether would complicate even these simple arrangements. “And your room?”
“Master suite, opposite end of the hall.”
They both eyed the tether dubiously.
“Let’s see if it stretches that far,” Thora suggested.
They climbed the stairs together, the soft glow of wall sconces lighting their way. At the top, a wide hallway extended in both directions.
“I’ll go first,” Thora said, walking backward toward the guest room, measuring the tether’s give.
The golden cord stretched between them, thinning slightly but holding firm. Twelve feet. Fifteen feet. This was longer than earlier in the day. She reached the doorway of her room just as tension built in the magical connection.
“I think this is the limit,” she called.
Artair remained at the opposite end of the hall. “Can you reach the bed?”
Thora stepped inside, the tether stretched to maximum capacity. “Barely. The bathroom will be out of range.”
“Same situation here,” he replied after checking his own room. “We’ll have to coordinate bathroom breaks.”
“Fantastic,” Thora muttered. “This just keeps getting better.”
“We’ll manage,” Artair said, his practical tone failing to mask the underlying awkwardness. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll visit Kalyna again and see if she’s found a solution.”
“Right.” Thora hesitated, suddenly reluctant to end their interaction. “Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight, Thora.”
She closed the door as much as the tether would allow—which wasn’t much, leaving it ajar with the golden cord passing through the gap. With a sigh, she surveyed the guest room. Like everything associated with the Maxens, it was luxurious without being ostentatious: a queen-sized bed with crisp white linens, tasteful landscape paintings, and plush carpeting that cushioned her steps.
After washing up as best she could given the tether’s constraints, Thora changed into a borrowed T-shirt that must have belonged to Bryn. It hung loose on her frame, but the soft cotton felt good against her skin.
She slipped into bed, hyper-aware of the door standing partially open, the tether a constant reminder of Artair’s presence down the hall. Despite the day’s exhaustion, sleep eluded her. The events kept replaying in her mind: the bathroom collision, the dinner, the strange moment of connection during the grooming ritual.
The honey cake challenge lingered most vividly in her thoughts. The intensity of Artair’s gaze had awakened something in her—a primitive recognition between predators that transcended their different species. Her sabertooth had responded to his bear with surprising eagerness.