35
Finn
A feeling of disquiet settles over me as soon as Soleil leaves.
Nonsensical, considering how much time we’ve spent together in the past week, but again, as soon as I’m parted from her, it feels as if half of me has suddenly gone missing.
I suppose I could linger around the atrium and wait for her to return, but the only thing more pathetic than being overcome by painful longing the moment I no longer have my mate by my side would be to admit I have nothing better to do with my day than stand around pining for her.
It’s true. But that doesn’t mean it’s not pathetic.
I make my way back to the Nighfall suite of rooms, lost in those thoughts, barely aware of my surroundings until I pass through the entrance chamber and down the long hall that leads past my father’s office and—
“Finn.”
I curse under my breath.
One of these days I’m going to learn to check my surroundings before traipsing through the family rooms.
Or, better yet, I’m going to get a handle on my life and find some gainful employment that will land me a job which pays enough so I can rent my own damn rooms.
For now, though, I’m backed into the same corner I have been a thousand times. Standing at the threshold of my father’s office, like an errant child waiting to be scolded.
“Back again,” he says without looking up from his paperwork. “How is Gales Harbor this time of year?”
“How do you know where I went?”
I earn myself an arched brow with the question, but still not a direct look as he shuffles from one page to another and back again, making a few annotations.
“There is very little that goes on in this family I’m not aware of.”
A sick, oily dread pools in the bottom of my stomach.
“And that includes you, Finn,” he continues. “Whether or not you like it.”
With one final flourish on the page, he finishes his task, orders the sheaves of paper into a neat pile, and finally deigns to look at me.
“Gales Harbor was fine,” I say tightly. “Better now that Soleil and Vayla have concluded their work there.”
“Ah, yes, the fever.” He gives me a wary once-over, as if I might infect him. “Well, good. Good. Now that the two of you are back, we should speak further about your upcoming bonding and what that will mean for our—”
“There is no upcoming bonding.” My stomach rolls again. Goddess, he knows no shame, does he?
“Oh,” he says, only mildly surprised, not mortified over the prying, invasive comment. “Is it already done, then? I’d have expected you’d need more time to convince her, given… well, given the state of your life and prospects. But excellent, if you’ve already—”
“If and when we bond, it will be none of your concern.”
My father sighs, again with the same patronizing air one might take with a child who refuses their vegetables at dinner.
“Are you still on about that? I thought once you’d had time to think, your small measure of better sense would prevail.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Of course it’s my concern. Everything my children do is my concern.”
For a few long moments, we fall into a stalemate.
I could rant and rail at him, repeat the same old tired lines I’ve been spouting since I was an adolescent about how I’m my own male and not under his thumb like he thinks I am.
I could, but I won’t.
Because it won’t do any good.
“And from what I hear, this mate of yours is a Crescent witch, familiar to the queen, no less. Do you know what a connection like that could do for our family, what it could mean for—”
“You’ll leave Soleil out of this.” A shiver of revulsion slithers down my spine. “Out of all of it. Nothing to do with this family has to do with her.”
Nothing is sacred to my father. Nothing is off-limits in advancing the family’s position or gaining us even one more ounce of power.
But he’ll stay away from my mate.
He ruined his own marriage, drove his wife away with his ambition. He won’t have the same opportunity to ruin what I have with Soleil.
Even if it means finally discovering the end to his goodwill. Even if it means finding out just where my value to him as a son and as a Nighfall ends, and his ruthless dedication to his own ambition begins.
If it means keeping him far, far away from Soleil, I’d give it all up in a heartbeat.
“And you’ll what?” he asks with derisive sneer. “Offer her a life of penury and struggle because you have no money of your own and no livelihood other than the one I give you?”
Hot shame creeps up the back of my neck. “I have trained as a—”
“As a lawyer.” Somehow, he finds a way to drip even more toxic disgust and disappointment into his tone.
“Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten? And pray tell, who will have you as a member of their firm? Your brother Eoghan certainly won’t once he hears of your intransigence.
Be honest with yourself, son, what kind of life can you offer her without the comfort and stability I have afforded you all these years? ”
He’s right.
I hate it down to the very marrow of my bones, but he’s right.
I’ve spent my life suckling at the family teat, enjoying the freedom my father’s money bought me, and I have nothing to show for it.
Nothing but a lifetime beholden to him.
Nothing for myself.
Nothing even remotely good enough for her.
My fleeting bravado fades, replaced by that same deep sickness, the dread that’s been hounding me since the moment I found out I had a mate and had to come to terms with the fact I’ve never done anything that could make me remotely worthy of her.
“We are not having this conversation.” My father stands and strides across the room without leaving me any time to respond, though I have no idea what I’d even say.
“I’m leaving for Traverdale today, and I’ll return tomorrow afternoon.
I will talk to you again when you’re reasonable, when you’ve had enough time to remember who you are and what you owe to this family. ”
He reaches the office door, and words stick on my tongue.
Too many words.
To many things I want to say, but can’t.
And it’s too late anyway as he pulls open the door and steps through without another word or a single backward glance, leaving me standing there alone, feeling more like a failure than ever.
I stay there longer than I care to admit, stewing in my misery, until a tug in the center of my chest pulls me back to the present.
A tug so sharp it takes my breath away.
Edged with my witch’s magick and the unmistakable bitterness of her fear, her dismay, her panic, it barely takes me half a heartbeat to act.
I open a portal and go to her, the only worthwhile thing I’m still able to do.