THIRTY-FIVE #3
“No. But the Matriarch, who oversees the Hearthbound, is one of the Veyllward Sisters, she answers to the Council.” Tamarr’s tone brightened. “The last time the Council were here was to bless Bellus’s marriage to his Hearthbound bride.”
A marriage blessed by a council that chose bloodlines like livestock for magick.
“And Zarek?” Her voice cracked, but she had to know. “Does he have a Hearthbound?” A heated jealousy surged through her, that was completely irrational. She squeezed her hands until her nails bit into her palms, trying to push it down.
She had no right.
And yet the thought of him with another woman made her want to scream.
“Zarek, our Great Captain, Miss… he’s never been with any of them.”
The relief that flooded Angela was so intense it left her dizzy. “Really?”
Tamarr nodded with that soft smile she always wore.
“Is it true,” Angela said slowly, forcing the words out, “that Zarek has proclaimed me as his own? As in… mine. In some Claiming?”
“Oh yes, Miss.” Tamarr’s eyes widened, her head bobbing in short, jerky nods.
“In the Great Hall when he had come back injured from the Poison Blade, I heard it myself. We all felt the ripple of power, like a warning. It went through the Keep that if any man dared come near you, Lord Zarek would kill them.” She winced.
“I was not meant to tell you this, Miss. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I can’t stop speaking. ” She covered her mouth with her hands.
“It’s okay, Tamarr.” Angela placed a hand on the attendant’s arm, guilt twisting in her stomach like indigestion.
But she needed to know.
“It’s our secret. Thank you for your honesty.” She then leaned in and whispered, “I wish you a good day, Tamarr. And, please, take the rest of the day off.” If it was allowed.
The pressure released. The compulsion lifted. And she hoped that the wish thing truly worked.
Tamarr shook her head as if coming out of a daze, then smiled widely. “Thank you, Miss. I will. And you have a lovely afternoon too.” With a swish of her skirts, Tamarr walked away, humming.
Angela carefully watched Tamarr disappear down the path. She hadn’t hurt her. Guessing Tamarr would have a good day and forget the secrets she’d spilled. But was it a secret when the entire castle knew about it but her?
And that burned.
Especially when Zarek hadn’t told her.
None of the Sworn Exarchs had, keeping her isolated and completely ignorant, treating her differently—just like she’d been her whole life.
Her hands trembled as rage ignited in her chest. She stormed through the castle, following her instincts and that inexplicable pull she didn’t want to name but knew was a thread to Zarek.
As she walked the many twisted corridors, she noticed how every soldier she passed stopped and put their heads down instantly. Some looked at her with fear, while others wore expressions of horror.
It was her old high school nightmare of being treated differently happening all over again. Being isolated. People turning away from her because they sensed something off about her, using her eyes as an excuse, when all she’d ever wanted was to be normal.
But now, here in Paradox—in a completely different realm—it was the same pattern but for a completely different reason.
Why was she being punished for something she knew nothing about?
She passed closed door after closed door, and with every step down the corridors of the Keep, the pieces clicked into place.
How Gellar had ordered the housekeeper to empty Zarek’s wing before Angela became his unintentional neighbor.
All those times she never shared meals in the Great Hall, only her room.
The Magick School where she’d been sent to be with old men and children, instead of being among adults her own age. Was her isolation also disguised as protection, because those rooms in Magick School and Zarek’s chambers were heavily warded as well?
Her fingers found the medallion, twisting it over and over. Her chest felt too tight to take in a deep breath. With her fast-walking pace, she was practically panting as she turned down another corridor.
She’d been snatched from one world where she didn’t fit, only to be caged in another.
All of it was Zarek’s doing.
Zarek had told her he was acting under orders. After what she’d learned, she was willing to bet it was mostly his orders too. He’d kept her apart, all under the thin veil of their treaty, twisting it to suit him.
What else was he keeping from her? Had he been betraying her this entire time, lying to keep her calm and contained in this castle? Not as some new power, but for this other thing, this Claiming?
Fury now raged inside as she reached the large double doors of the Training Hall. She didn’t knock, instead she just shoved them wide open.
The gymnasium-like space was filled with men and women running combat drills in synchronized movements. Zarek and Martar stood side by side with arms crossed, watching the soldiers.
Angela stood in the doorway and glared at Zarek’s back, wanting him to feel her fury across the distance.
It took less than a second.
His head snapped around, and his teal eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath.
And the entire room fell silent.