Chapter 22
Chercher
BASTIEN
Imogen’s chambers were in the darkest recesses of the castle, far below ground. She never emerged from the caverns, preferring to soak her ancient body in the salt pools. When I came to call, I found her amongst the steam. Her jade-green eyes piercing through the dark.
“I’ve seen your journey in the waters,” she said in her paper-thin voice, barely audible over the echo of my boots on the stone floor. “It seems you found more than your sanguine partner in the capital, didn’t you, boy?”
She laughed, and the sound was like the croaking of a toad.
I crouched beside the pool, as I often did when seeking her counsel, and tossed a handful of shells into the murky depths.
An offering to the only known Water Witch still living.
She snatched them up in her bony hand, inspecting them carefully before setting them on the ledge behind her.
“What can I help you with, young master?”
I hesitated, dropping my chin to my chest as thoughts of Claire filled my mind.
From the first moment I saw her across the ballroom to the moment I left her at camp and every moment in between.
She was never far from my thoughts, and that was the problem.
I needed my life to return to how it was before.
Imogen waited with her hands steepled under her chin. Her thin lips pulled into the suggestion of a smile. I had the sneaking suspicion the old witch already knew what I’d come to ask.
“Is there a way to break a mate bond?”
Humidity beaded my brow. Water dripped from the damp stone overhead. My question hung heavy in the air.
“Your mate is determined by your Gods,” Imogen replied. “Such were the terms of the treaty you made with them. The only way to break your bond is to break the Blood Treaty.”
Breaking the Blood Treaty was a ridiculous suggestion. My whole purpose in life was to preserve the balance of magickal power on earth, not destroy the only thing keeping the peace. Frustration had my fists curling into tight balls. “There has to be another way,” I demanded. “Something. Anything.”
Imogen didn’t balk at my anger like others might.
She’d seen too much in her extraordinarily long life to be bothered by my temper.
“When you sacrificed yourself for this so-called peace, your Gods required limitations to check your power. It’s why the sun drains your strength, why you must feast on blood, and why you become consumed under the pull of a mate. ”
I waved her explanation away. “But there has to be a way to break this bond without breaking the Treaty. I cannot be tied to Claire. This is not the right time for me to be consumed.”
The witch turned her attention to the stack of seashells around her pool, and selected one. The torchlight caught on its iridescent sheen, reminding me of the way Claire’s hair shone under the light of the moon.
The witch held it out for me, and reluctantly, I allowed her to place it in my palm. The shell was curled like a tusk, and was quite beautiful. “There’s never a right time to fall in love,” Imogen said softly.
Love. What a ridiculous notion.
I curled my fist around the shell, letting the sharp edge bite into my skin. “This isn’t love,” I gritted out. “It’s cosmic punishment to keep me from being the man I need to be.”
“And you know better than the Moon Goddess? Is that it?” she asked. “Or the God of the Underworld? Your gods chose your mate.”
As my temper rose, Imogen remained ever the same. Her tone mild and unaffected as she sat soaking in shoulder-deep water.
“I didn’t come for a lecture,” I said, rising to my feet, intent on throwing the shell back into the murky depths of the salt pool. For whatever reason I kept it curled in my hand. “I came here for a spell or a sacred ritual to break her hold on me. Your advice has never failed me before.”
Water Witches were renowned seers in their time, though their talents had become their undoing.
She offered me one of her rare smiles that showed a row of chipped yellow teeth. “She is your mate, Bastien. Your fates are intertwined. Which means you hold just as much power over her as she has over you.”
Impossible. It was impossible. If she felt the way I did, we’d already be properly mated, and my life would truly be over.
There was no doubt in my mind. Especially after the way she’d come alive when I’d touched her.
The way I’d come alive. But I was able to compartmentalize that tryst because she’d been curious.
That’s all. She didn’t care about me; she only wanted to feel pleasure she’d never experienced before.
Claire blamed me for her father’s death and for her upbringing at the Nightfall Convent, where she was taught heinous things about herself and the world. And she was right to hate me. I led many soldiers into the Lawless Lands, and couldn’t protect them all.
“I’m sorry you wasted a handful of good seashells to hear nothing can be done,” Imogen said, “but that’s the answer you’re going to get.”
Desperation had me crouching down beside the pool again. “Imogen, please. I’ve protected you all these years and have never asked for anything in return.”
She let out another toad-like croak of laughter, and, behind the tendrils of steam, I saw something shift in her eyes. “You think my life matters that much to me?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She pushed herself off the ledge and swam closer to where I sat crouched beside the pool, looking less human and more like a creature of the deep.
“My people are gone,” Imogen said, her bony hand gripping my ankle.
The look on her wrinkled face was pained.
“My goddess is in hiding. I sit here in these waters, waiting for a sign that might never come. So excuse me if I find your request annoying. What’s fifty years of matrimony to an immortal? ”
“Those fifty years might seem trivial to you, but if I leave and return to the capital with Claire, the witches of the Lawless Lands with whom I’ve made alliances with will all be dead upon my return, and who knows who will have replaced them.”
Extremists. Sycophants. Those who would seek to increase their power in unnatural ways. Young witches like Shayla, who rose against Hector’s level hand. Those who desired the power of the wolf. Who wanted to find a way to kill Witches of the Darkness.
The echo of the word werewolves sounded in my head. I opened my palm, staring at the tusk-shaped seashell. From this angle, it looked like a tooth. I didn’t want to believe it was possible.
My voice softened. “I’m so close to bringing more people under the protection of the Blood Treaty. I can’t abandon them.”
She released her hold on my boot, but stayed close. Something like a smile crested over her thin lips again. “You are too noble for your own good.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I expelled a strangled laugh, which seemed to break the tension that had been brewing between us. Rubbing my thumb over the shell, I asked, “Is there anything that can be done? Anything at all to reduce the bond’s effect on me? Imogen, please, I’m desperate.”
“Desperate, you say?” The old witch floated back to her place across the pool, not meeting my gaze as she toyed with her collections of shells.
Rearranging them into little stacks with her long, bony fingers.
“Desperate enough to summon one of your gods?” A charged silence filled the cavern.
“Diana will not speak to you nor offer any way out of this bond. She is a romantic. And besides, her witches have the advantage in these aggressions your kind are ignoring.”
“We are not ignoring them,” I told her as calmly as I could.
She shot me a glare that told me she thought otherwise.
“Moon magick doesn’t require a limited resource, like the demonic relics.
You can’t banish the moon from the Unified Territories the way you have banished demons.
She will see no benefit in helping you. But,” she said, “perhaps Damien could be persuaded. Summon him, tell him you wish to break the Blood Treaty.”
“I can’t do that.”
“This accord was made to prevent war, but tell me, Bastien, are we at peace?”
“This is your advice? That I break the very treaty I died to create?”
Imogen pointed to the shell in my hand, turning her strange eyes on me once again. Eyes that saw things that weren’t in this cavern. “It seems you’ve done a fair few things that go against the rules, Sebastien, in the name of preserving your noble quest.”
“The way you say noble quest makes me feel like you don’t think it’s very noble at all.”
She turned her back to me. “If you wanted to ask more questions, you should’ve brought more shells.”
I took my leave of the cavern, climbing the spiraling steps that led back to my chamber. When I reached my room, I threw the heavy black drapes open and was rewarded with the sight of the moon hanging over the snow-capped pines—refusing to bow to the rising dawn.
It reminded me of Claire. The stubborn look of defiance she’d given me when I’d left her alone. She was fire. But she was also soft and delicate.
A moonflower.
Could Imogen be right? Could Claire feel a pull toward me too?
Was she as tortured as I was? I swallowed down guilt and shame.
I’d left her alone, making her vulnerable to the elements and my nephew and any number of dangers that could befall her on the half-day journey.
All because I couldn’t keep my feelings for her at bay.
I didn’t want this—her—and at the same time, she was all I wanted.